A fabulous take on Max's victory in the brutal bloodsport arena of The Refinery as done by Grimmuza!
In a cruel twist of fate Max and his new compatriot Dakota must fight for their lives against a former comrade turned voracious feral T-Rex, all with nothing to aid them but their own new and unfamiliar raptor attributes.
Excerpt from Hot Zone Chapter 2 follows:
*****
Moon tried and failed to form words through a strange tongue and a mouth without lips but had enough presence of mind to look at his transformed body and start to panic. Max could no longer hear the reactions of the crowds in the stands over the torrential rain, but that damn loudspeaker still seemed to work.
“You probably thought that a two versus one match was unfair, and you were right! Combining Tyrannosaurus DNA painstakingly reassembled from countless gallons of crude oil with the deadly skills of a Special Forces operative, I give you our newest super soldier: Blood Moon!”
“Fucking hell, that’s awful,” Max grumbled, turning to his ally. “Dakota, that thing isn’t your friend anymore. We’ve gotta work together to kill him.”
“We’ve got to see if he’s still in there, Max,” Dakota said, still in denial. “Maybe there’s a chance—”
“Hunger…” Moon rumbled, his voice a deep bass. “Need food… Need blood… Need revenge!”
Moon lunged at Dakota, his eyes betraying where he intended to throw his fist. Dakota leapt out of the way in the nick of time as an enormous hand struck the ground where he’d been standing with a heavy, thunderous thud, the sand absorbing the impact and sending ripples outward. The sheer force of the impact created a shockwave that burst the raindrops and formed a momentary bubble around the T-Rex Ecto. This sprayed water into Dakota’s eyes, causing him to blink and become disoriented.
Max could tell that Moon was slower than either of them, but that he was so immensely powerful now that the higher agility of their raptor forms was overmatched in a one-on-one confrontation. He needed Dakota’s help to take this brute down, and whether or not the man yet accepted the reality that he needed to kill his friend, it wouldn’t matter if Moon struck him dead while he was disoriented.
Without much of a plan, Max Charged forward, leapt, and drop-kicked Moon in the ribs, which he’d hoped would do some damage but was more like slamming into a wall. Still, Moon was mid-stride and the impact was enough to throw him off balance, redirecting his momentum into a concrete wall, which cratered and cracked on impact. If the drop kick didn’t give him pause, that certainly did, causing him to stagger a few moments, flexing a hand. How tough were those bones, anyway?
Max tried to follow up while Moon was disoriented, trying a spinning kick to the giant’s head, but to his horror the beast grabbed his foot in one hand and pulled Max closer. Max still had a foot on the ground, so the parting of his legs and the weight of his torso forced him into a perfect split, which stung a bit but surprised Max with his own flexibility. As Moon reached forward to grab Max’s thigh and pull him closer, Max wound up and struck the soft tissue around Moon’s nose with the heel of his right palm, the burst of pain prompting the grappler to let go and instinctively bring his hands to his face.
Max got back to his feet and tried a kick to Moon’s ribs, which he simply blocked by dropping his shoulder. Then he went for one of Moon’s knees, colliding but doing no real damage. A spinning kick and tail swipe, something he’d been meaning to try out, collided with Moon’s right shoulder and slapped him in the face, but the worst damage he’d been able to do with that move was a small incision with one of his sickle claws. Great, not only were his bones impregnable, but his skin was thick too.
Moon took the initiative and moved toward Max, who realized that his footing was all wrong. He tried throwing a punch, but Moon wrapped his left arm around Max’s right hook and locked it in place. Max felt the massive arm’s muscles straining, squeezing his bones and filling him with agony. At this rate his arm would be wrenched from its socket, maybe even torn off. He grimly realized that this was Moon’s plan. He wasn’t big enough to swallow Max or Dakota whole. He wanted to tear them apart first, rend them limb from limb.
Max was right-dominant, but now wasn’t the time to be picky. He wound up, crossed his index and middle fingers, and whipped his left arm forward, landing a Dim Mak strike at the base of Moon’s sternum. Finally he felt something crack, the force and precision of the impact rippling through the man’s flesh. Moon’s arm loosened and Max dropped to the ground, quickly returning to his feet.
Moon backpedaled, stunned, then regained his footing and clenched his fists, roaring in defiance. The Dim Mak was supposed to be a death strike, but this freak just shook it off. Moon then went after Dakota, who again proved too evasive, and perhaps a little smarter than Max had just been. He looked like he’d opened himself up for a grapple, then suddenly split his legs, sinking under the attack, only to rebound and direct that energy through his clenched fist directly into Moon’s groin.
As Moon made a sound somewhere in between an irate bull and a steel girder being sawn in half, Max couldn’t tell who was winning. They’d gotten in most of the hits, but Moon kept rebounding from each one, even after having raptor knuckles ground into his testes. Meanwhile, Moon kept at the ready, behaving more defensively, seeking an opening. He salivated constantly, the tacky drool mixing with the rain to form a soggy mess under his chin, but Max and Dakota were getting worn out and it wasn’t clear whose situation was more desperate. Whenever Moon focused on one of them, the other would dart around and try to flank, so Moon would guard his back by keeping it against the wall.
“Use it, Max!” Dakota hissed.
“No, not yet,” Max replied, eyes searching around.
“Well, what the hell are you waiting for?” Dakota glowered at him.
Moon’s mouth gaped open and roared, “Too fast… Too small… No revenge, not yet… The hunger… Need to stop the hunger!”
“Now, gentlemen, time is precious,” The Master of Ceremonies chimed in. “We don’t fight to a tie here in the Foundation Arena. Keep swinging or we’ll be forced to intervene.”
Max could practically see the idea creeping into Moon’s head, his eyes drawn to the box where the plump white croc sat and lorded over his little domain. Yeah, Moon, that fatass doesn’t belong on the throne. You do! Go get him!
Considering his size Moon moved with remarkable speed across the arena, straight for the space under the Master of Ceremonies’ perch. He ran a hand along the decaying concrete wall and slammed a fist into it, making it split open with a satisfying crack. The fissures radiated upward and met with the stress points under the structure. A hedge of spikes underneath dissuaded anyone from jumping up to the stands, but they wouldn’t do much good if those stands came crashing down.
The loudspeakers squealed as more lightning lanced through the air, the thundercrack perfectly timed with the collision of Moon’s fist against the concrete again. The Master of Ceremonies panicked, rising to his feet and making a move for the box’s exit, but his clumsy gait proved too slow for Moon’s alarming speed and brutality. A slab of concrete fell from one of the Box’s steel supports, causing the whole structure to swing, then break off and collapse, the Master of Ceremonies spilling onto the ground to get free of the tumbling debris. Moon loomed over him in less than a second, licking his chops.
“W-wait! Moon, I’m important! I’m in good with the king! I can get you all the food you want!”
“Food I want… Is right in front of me…” Moon rumbled in anticipation.
“Welcome to the party, pal!” Max shouted, making eye contact with the croc.
The Master of Ceremonies hissed and tried to fight back, but it was all in vain. His tough scutes and sharp teeth were no match for an Ecto twice his size with far more muscularity. As Max imagined it, Moon tore the robed figure apart piece by agonizing piece, the corpulent figure gushing enormous amounts of crimson blood all over the arena’s sand, so much that it took time for the rain to wash it away. The few spectators that remained bore witness to the grisly spectacle of Moon devouring every scrap, even watching the tail slide down his gullet.
Max stayed on guard. He was happy to see that bastard go, but they weren’t out of danger yet, not by a long shot. Moon quickly finished his meal, then turned back toward the pair, especially Dakota. Before he could approach, though, Moon squinted, putting his hands over his belly. Perhaps he’d eaten too many fatty foods?
If only they’d been so lucky. A familiar burbling sound erupted from Moon’s body, softened but still audible through the rain and wind. With renewed sustenance to fuel it, the mutagen coursing through his veins accelerated with vigor. His scaly skin went dull and flat, the thin plumage dying and tumbling from it, then his body bulged and surged in size yet again. His arms didn’t grow, but the rest of him did, becoming even less humanoid as he burst through his skin yet again. He surged taller, to 10, 12, 16, and finally 20 feet, a truly behemoth creature. That’s what he was now, no longer anything that could be construed as human, his once massive arms now looking vestigial and diminutive as they dangled from his torso. His posture canted forward until his spine was nearly horizontal, his massive jaws and thick neck now easily capable of grappling and swallowing whole anyone in or around the arena. Given what had happened to his mind last time, Max didn’t hold out much hope for this apex predator’s humanity.
The T-Rex turned to them as if to express his hunger, but only throaty, growling sounds escaped. Spectators, now at face level with the monster, finally lost their nerve and began fleeing the arena. The movement only set Moon off, drawing his attention. With footfalls like thunder he craned his neck past the spikes, nosing through the ineffectual concertina wire and munching on spectator after spectator like an all-you-can-eat buffet. The guards, whipped by the rain and intensifying wind, finally kicked into action and opened fire, but their weapons were designed to keep unprotected gladiators in line, not this gargantuan monster with 2-inch-thick skin.
Driven back by the discomfort of gunfire striking him, Moon turned his crimson-coated head towards his next easy meals: Dakota and Max. No longer able to comprehend the concept of revenge, he simply went for the one who was closest. Max was quick on his new raptor legs, but not quick enough to outpace this insanely tall monster. He didn’t dare look behind him as he ran around the perimeter of the arena, but he felt the hot, fetid breath on his tail, neck, and back.
At the last moment, Moon slewed to the side and roared as something latched onto his neck and cut through his skin. It was Dakota, who’d leapt in to save Max’s life and torn into the beast with his sickle claws. Aggravated, Moon shook his head, then swung it violently to the side, throwing Dakota off. The white raptor tumbled across the ground and slammed into the concrete wall with enough force to kill a man.
Max instinctively rushed to Dakota’s aid. He’d been his only friend and ally through all of this and had somehow had more humanity as a theropod than most of the human beings he’d met in his violent life. Dakota coughed, then started struggling back to his feet. Despite the force of the throw his insane agility meant that he was going to be just fine. At least, for the next few seconds.
They turned to see Moon’s enormous head just feet away, bigger than the two of them put together. Neither had the time to escape, but maybe…
“Run, Dakota. Tell them what happened here.”
“Nah, you’re better with words than I am. Hang a picture of me on the wall at Benning. Make sure it’s a handsome one.”
Max sighed. He really wished Dakota had taken his advice just now. Lacking any other bright ideas, Max clenched his fists, wound up, and threw the biggest haymaker he could right into Moon’s nose with a wet, echoing snap.
At first the beast didn’t move. Then his nostrils twitched and his eyes blinked. The reason why became clear as he drew in a breath and sneezed all over Max and Dakota, drenching them in revolting mucus. Enraged by the fact that this tiny opponent had dared punch him in the face a second time, Moon raised his head to the sky and roared in anger, a terrible, earth-shaking, primal thing.
As if in answer, a white bolt descended from the sky and connected with Moon’s head. The lightning wreathed him in an ionized aura and instantly evaporated the water gathered on his body with a tremendous crack. The beast, stunned, shuffled to one side, then the other, then collapsed in the center of the arena, movements slowing.
“Holy shit!” Max exclaimed in a gravelly voice.
It lacked the characteristic snappiness of his usual manner, but this wasn’t exactly a textbook situation. The spectacle of Moon’s collapse gave everyone pause, no one willing to believe what they’d just seen. The beast twitched, exhaled, then fell still, having suffered a massive heart attack induced by the electric shock. The air momentarily stilled. Max stood before the carcass, thrust a fist in the air, and yawped triumphantly to a swell in the synth music still playing through the arena’s speakers.
“I have the POWER!”
The call echoed through the hushed arena as several bolts of lightning arced across the sky and punctuated his statement with thunder. Then reality sunk back in. Max and Dakota were still in a military base filled with armed combatants, and the alarm had been raised. It took a few seconds for Dakota to register the clamor of men behind the arena door and the sound of weapons being charged.
“Now, Max, for Christ’s sake!”
“Yeah, about that… How do I regurgitate again?” Max asked.
“Now I see why you didn’t do it earlier,” Dakota rolled his eyes. “Sorry bud, no time for pleasantries.”
The fist to Max’s gut came out of nowhere, knocking the wind out of him and, as intended, triggering the muscles of his stomach. He doubled over, coughed, then felt the smooth muscle of his esophagus working in reverse, like a slow, methodical vomit. He felt the slick metal object enter his throat, then with another cough it spilled out from his maw onto the ground.
Tyrell had made a mistake. When locking up Max, he’d left him in his VAC suit. Every VAC suit was outfitted with an air conditioner, and air conditioners had bottles of coolant to circulate through the system, bottles kept at very high pressure. Using the materials at hand in the bank vault, they’d fashioned a makeshift grenade.
The doors to the arena spilled open, a dozen heavily armed goons pouring through carrying some heavy artillery, likely to liquidate the T-Rex. Instead, they ran straight into Max’s cryo-bomb. The sudden expansion of the coolant instantly crystallized the moisture in the air and lowered the temperature to subfreezing. It was all Max and Dakota could do to keep out of the blast zone as flash frozen Ectos tumbled into the ground, their bodies instantly enervated by the sudden chill. The cold air dissipated quickly, but the stunned guards remained incapacitated, their weapons ready for the taking.
There wasn’t any plan to the escape, just to get away from the refinery and out of the clutches of Tyrell’s private army. After what they’d just been subjected to, neither of them was in a forgiving mood. They slit the throats of the incapacitated guards, then quickly helped themselves to the gear: Kevlar vests, pants, combat boots fitted for digitigrade Ecto feet, handguns, and pouches of ammo for them. Dakota showed his preference for rifles by taking an M-16 with an M203 grenade launcher. Max preferred small automatics like the LaserMac as well as the old reliable steel of a Beretta 92FS pistol. He slung the missile launcher the guards had brought around his back, just in case.
“Two of us versus an army, a hurricane, and un unspecified number of dinosaurs. Fearful odds,” Dakota smiled.
“Yeah. Those poor bastards don’t stand a chance.”
In a cruel twist of fate Max and his new compatriot Dakota must fight for their lives against a former comrade turned voracious feral T-Rex, all with nothing to aid them but their own new and unfamiliar raptor attributes.
Excerpt from Hot Zone Chapter 2 follows:
*****
Moon tried and failed to form words through a strange tongue and a mouth without lips but had enough presence of mind to look at his transformed body and start to panic. Max could no longer hear the reactions of the crowds in the stands over the torrential rain, but that damn loudspeaker still seemed to work.
“You probably thought that a two versus one match was unfair, and you were right! Combining Tyrannosaurus DNA painstakingly reassembled from countless gallons of crude oil with the deadly skills of a Special Forces operative, I give you our newest super soldier: Blood Moon!”
“Fucking hell, that’s awful,” Max grumbled, turning to his ally. “Dakota, that thing isn’t your friend anymore. We’ve gotta work together to kill him.”
“We’ve got to see if he’s still in there, Max,” Dakota said, still in denial. “Maybe there’s a chance—”
“Hunger…” Moon rumbled, his voice a deep bass. “Need food… Need blood… Need revenge!”
Moon lunged at Dakota, his eyes betraying where he intended to throw his fist. Dakota leapt out of the way in the nick of time as an enormous hand struck the ground where he’d been standing with a heavy, thunderous thud, the sand absorbing the impact and sending ripples outward. The sheer force of the impact created a shockwave that burst the raindrops and formed a momentary bubble around the T-Rex Ecto. This sprayed water into Dakota’s eyes, causing him to blink and become disoriented.
Max could tell that Moon was slower than either of them, but that he was so immensely powerful now that the higher agility of their raptor forms was overmatched in a one-on-one confrontation. He needed Dakota’s help to take this brute down, and whether or not the man yet accepted the reality that he needed to kill his friend, it wouldn’t matter if Moon struck him dead while he was disoriented.
Without much of a plan, Max Charged forward, leapt, and drop-kicked Moon in the ribs, which he’d hoped would do some damage but was more like slamming into a wall. Still, Moon was mid-stride and the impact was enough to throw him off balance, redirecting his momentum into a concrete wall, which cratered and cracked on impact. If the drop kick didn’t give him pause, that certainly did, causing him to stagger a few moments, flexing a hand. How tough were those bones, anyway?
Max tried to follow up while Moon was disoriented, trying a spinning kick to the giant’s head, but to his horror the beast grabbed his foot in one hand and pulled Max closer. Max still had a foot on the ground, so the parting of his legs and the weight of his torso forced him into a perfect split, which stung a bit but surprised Max with his own flexibility. As Moon reached forward to grab Max’s thigh and pull him closer, Max wound up and struck the soft tissue around Moon’s nose with the heel of his right palm, the burst of pain prompting the grappler to let go and instinctively bring his hands to his face.
Max got back to his feet and tried a kick to Moon’s ribs, which he simply blocked by dropping his shoulder. Then he went for one of Moon’s knees, colliding but doing no real damage. A spinning kick and tail swipe, something he’d been meaning to try out, collided with Moon’s right shoulder and slapped him in the face, but the worst damage he’d been able to do with that move was a small incision with one of his sickle claws. Great, not only were his bones impregnable, but his skin was thick too.
Moon took the initiative and moved toward Max, who realized that his footing was all wrong. He tried throwing a punch, but Moon wrapped his left arm around Max’s right hook and locked it in place. Max felt the massive arm’s muscles straining, squeezing his bones and filling him with agony. At this rate his arm would be wrenched from its socket, maybe even torn off. He grimly realized that this was Moon’s plan. He wasn’t big enough to swallow Max or Dakota whole. He wanted to tear them apart first, rend them limb from limb.
Max was right-dominant, but now wasn’t the time to be picky. He wound up, crossed his index and middle fingers, and whipped his left arm forward, landing a Dim Mak strike at the base of Moon’s sternum. Finally he felt something crack, the force and precision of the impact rippling through the man’s flesh. Moon’s arm loosened and Max dropped to the ground, quickly returning to his feet.
Moon backpedaled, stunned, then regained his footing and clenched his fists, roaring in defiance. The Dim Mak was supposed to be a death strike, but this freak just shook it off. Moon then went after Dakota, who again proved too evasive, and perhaps a little smarter than Max had just been. He looked like he’d opened himself up for a grapple, then suddenly split his legs, sinking under the attack, only to rebound and direct that energy through his clenched fist directly into Moon’s groin.
As Moon made a sound somewhere in between an irate bull and a steel girder being sawn in half, Max couldn’t tell who was winning. They’d gotten in most of the hits, but Moon kept rebounding from each one, even after having raptor knuckles ground into his testes. Meanwhile, Moon kept at the ready, behaving more defensively, seeking an opening. He salivated constantly, the tacky drool mixing with the rain to form a soggy mess under his chin, but Max and Dakota were getting worn out and it wasn’t clear whose situation was more desperate. Whenever Moon focused on one of them, the other would dart around and try to flank, so Moon would guard his back by keeping it against the wall.
“Use it, Max!” Dakota hissed.
“No, not yet,” Max replied, eyes searching around.
“Well, what the hell are you waiting for?” Dakota glowered at him.
Moon’s mouth gaped open and roared, “Too fast… Too small… No revenge, not yet… The hunger… Need to stop the hunger!”
“Now, gentlemen, time is precious,” The Master of Ceremonies chimed in. “We don’t fight to a tie here in the Foundation Arena. Keep swinging or we’ll be forced to intervene.”
Max could practically see the idea creeping into Moon’s head, his eyes drawn to the box where the plump white croc sat and lorded over his little domain. Yeah, Moon, that fatass doesn’t belong on the throne. You do! Go get him!
Considering his size Moon moved with remarkable speed across the arena, straight for the space under the Master of Ceremonies’ perch. He ran a hand along the decaying concrete wall and slammed a fist into it, making it split open with a satisfying crack. The fissures radiated upward and met with the stress points under the structure. A hedge of spikes underneath dissuaded anyone from jumping up to the stands, but they wouldn’t do much good if those stands came crashing down.
The loudspeakers squealed as more lightning lanced through the air, the thundercrack perfectly timed with the collision of Moon’s fist against the concrete again. The Master of Ceremonies panicked, rising to his feet and making a move for the box’s exit, but his clumsy gait proved too slow for Moon’s alarming speed and brutality. A slab of concrete fell from one of the Box’s steel supports, causing the whole structure to swing, then break off and collapse, the Master of Ceremonies spilling onto the ground to get free of the tumbling debris. Moon loomed over him in less than a second, licking his chops.
“W-wait! Moon, I’m important! I’m in good with the king! I can get you all the food you want!”
“Food I want… Is right in front of me…” Moon rumbled in anticipation.
“Welcome to the party, pal!” Max shouted, making eye contact with the croc.
The Master of Ceremonies hissed and tried to fight back, but it was all in vain. His tough scutes and sharp teeth were no match for an Ecto twice his size with far more muscularity. As Max imagined it, Moon tore the robed figure apart piece by agonizing piece, the corpulent figure gushing enormous amounts of crimson blood all over the arena’s sand, so much that it took time for the rain to wash it away. The few spectators that remained bore witness to the grisly spectacle of Moon devouring every scrap, even watching the tail slide down his gullet.
Max stayed on guard. He was happy to see that bastard go, but they weren’t out of danger yet, not by a long shot. Moon quickly finished his meal, then turned back toward the pair, especially Dakota. Before he could approach, though, Moon squinted, putting his hands over his belly. Perhaps he’d eaten too many fatty foods?
If only they’d been so lucky. A familiar burbling sound erupted from Moon’s body, softened but still audible through the rain and wind. With renewed sustenance to fuel it, the mutagen coursing through his veins accelerated with vigor. His scaly skin went dull and flat, the thin plumage dying and tumbling from it, then his body bulged and surged in size yet again. His arms didn’t grow, but the rest of him did, becoming even less humanoid as he burst through his skin yet again. He surged taller, to 10, 12, 16, and finally 20 feet, a truly behemoth creature. That’s what he was now, no longer anything that could be construed as human, his once massive arms now looking vestigial and diminutive as they dangled from his torso. His posture canted forward until his spine was nearly horizontal, his massive jaws and thick neck now easily capable of grappling and swallowing whole anyone in or around the arena. Given what had happened to his mind last time, Max didn’t hold out much hope for this apex predator’s humanity.
The T-Rex turned to them as if to express his hunger, but only throaty, growling sounds escaped. Spectators, now at face level with the monster, finally lost their nerve and began fleeing the arena. The movement only set Moon off, drawing his attention. With footfalls like thunder he craned his neck past the spikes, nosing through the ineffectual concertina wire and munching on spectator after spectator like an all-you-can-eat buffet. The guards, whipped by the rain and intensifying wind, finally kicked into action and opened fire, but their weapons were designed to keep unprotected gladiators in line, not this gargantuan monster with 2-inch-thick skin.
Driven back by the discomfort of gunfire striking him, Moon turned his crimson-coated head towards his next easy meals: Dakota and Max. No longer able to comprehend the concept of revenge, he simply went for the one who was closest. Max was quick on his new raptor legs, but not quick enough to outpace this insanely tall monster. He didn’t dare look behind him as he ran around the perimeter of the arena, but he felt the hot, fetid breath on his tail, neck, and back.
At the last moment, Moon slewed to the side and roared as something latched onto his neck and cut through his skin. It was Dakota, who’d leapt in to save Max’s life and torn into the beast with his sickle claws. Aggravated, Moon shook his head, then swung it violently to the side, throwing Dakota off. The white raptor tumbled across the ground and slammed into the concrete wall with enough force to kill a man.
Max instinctively rushed to Dakota’s aid. He’d been his only friend and ally through all of this and had somehow had more humanity as a theropod than most of the human beings he’d met in his violent life. Dakota coughed, then started struggling back to his feet. Despite the force of the throw his insane agility meant that he was going to be just fine. At least, for the next few seconds.
They turned to see Moon’s enormous head just feet away, bigger than the two of them put together. Neither had the time to escape, but maybe…
“Run, Dakota. Tell them what happened here.”
“Nah, you’re better with words than I am. Hang a picture of me on the wall at Benning. Make sure it’s a handsome one.”
Max sighed. He really wished Dakota had taken his advice just now. Lacking any other bright ideas, Max clenched his fists, wound up, and threw the biggest haymaker he could right into Moon’s nose with a wet, echoing snap.
At first the beast didn’t move. Then his nostrils twitched and his eyes blinked. The reason why became clear as he drew in a breath and sneezed all over Max and Dakota, drenching them in revolting mucus. Enraged by the fact that this tiny opponent had dared punch him in the face a second time, Moon raised his head to the sky and roared in anger, a terrible, earth-shaking, primal thing.
As if in answer, a white bolt descended from the sky and connected with Moon’s head. The lightning wreathed him in an ionized aura and instantly evaporated the water gathered on his body with a tremendous crack. The beast, stunned, shuffled to one side, then the other, then collapsed in the center of the arena, movements slowing.
“Holy shit!” Max exclaimed in a gravelly voice.
It lacked the characteristic snappiness of his usual manner, but this wasn’t exactly a textbook situation. The spectacle of Moon’s collapse gave everyone pause, no one willing to believe what they’d just seen. The beast twitched, exhaled, then fell still, having suffered a massive heart attack induced by the electric shock. The air momentarily stilled. Max stood before the carcass, thrust a fist in the air, and yawped triumphantly to a swell in the synth music still playing through the arena’s speakers.
“I have the POWER!”
The call echoed through the hushed arena as several bolts of lightning arced across the sky and punctuated his statement with thunder. Then reality sunk back in. Max and Dakota were still in a military base filled with armed combatants, and the alarm had been raised. It took a few seconds for Dakota to register the clamor of men behind the arena door and the sound of weapons being charged.
“Now, Max, for Christ’s sake!”
“Yeah, about that… How do I regurgitate again?” Max asked.
“Now I see why you didn’t do it earlier,” Dakota rolled his eyes. “Sorry bud, no time for pleasantries.”
The fist to Max’s gut came out of nowhere, knocking the wind out of him and, as intended, triggering the muscles of his stomach. He doubled over, coughed, then felt the smooth muscle of his esophagus working in reverse, like a slow, methodical vomit. He felt the slick metal object enter his throat, then with another cough it spilled out from his maw onto the ground.
Tyrell had made a mistake. When locking up Max, he’d left him in his VAC suit. Every VAC suit was outfitted with an air conditioner, and air conditioners had bottles of coolant to circulate through the system, bottles kept at very high pressure. Using the materials at hand in the bank vault, they’d fashioned a makeshift grenade.
The doors to the arena spilled open, a dozen heavily armed goons pouring through carrying some heavy artillery, likely to liquidate the T-Rex. Instead, they ran straight into Max’s cryo-bomb. The sudden expansion of the coolant instantly crystallized the moisture in the air and lowered the temperature to subfreezing. It was all Max and Dakota could do to keep out of the blast zone as flash frozen Ectos tumbled into the ground, their bodies instantly enervated by the sudden chill. The cold air dissipated quickly, but the stunned guards remained incapacitated, their weapons ready for the taking.
There wasn’t any plan to the escape, just to get away from the refinery and out of the clutches of Tyrell’s private army. After what they’d just been subjected to, neither of them was in a forgiving mood. They slit the throats of the incapacitated guards, then quickly helped themselves to the gear: Kevlar vests, pants, combat boots fitted for digitigrade Ecto feet, handguns, and pouches of ammo for them. Dakota showed his preference for rifles by taking an M-16 with an M203 grenade launcher. Max preferred small automatics like the LaserMac as well as the old reliable steel of a Beretta 92FS pistol. He slung the missile launcher the guards had brought around his back, just in case.
“Two of us versus an army, a hurricane, and un unspecified number of dinosaurs. Fearful odds,” Dakota smiled.
“Yeah. Those poor bastards don’t stand a chance.”
Category Artwork (Digital) / All
Species Dinosaur
Gender Male
Size 1000 x 1567px
Listed in Folders
It's more grandstanding than anything. Sure, Max punched the T-Rex in the face, but it was the bolt of lightning that did it in.
this piece is so metal i can feel a dragonforce guitar solo into the distance and it's slowly getting louder the more I look at the image
So metal they're still trying to squeeze it into the Periodic Table
this SERIOUSLY looks like it should be an Album Cover for just the crunchiest hair metal album imaginable!
\m/ >w< \m/
\m/ >w< \m/
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