Chapter 2: Shattered Shelves
Stepping out of the stuffy lab, they breathed in recycled air, sweet compared to the lab's staleness. Moxley stretched, feeling the vast sky above dyed with sunset.
"Grocery store first?" he asked Ciel.
The cyborg, silent and imposing, stared at the ruined city.
Moxley chuckled, his laughter echoing in the emptiness. "Alright, alright, metalhead. No need to get high and mighty. Just trying to break the ice." He adjusted his backpack.
They started walking, their steps crunching on dry earth. Silence pressed down, thick and heavy.
Moxley, the quiet unbearable, cleared his throat. "You can understand me, right? Ciel? The silent steel giant?"
No answer, only the click of Ciel's joints and the whirring of his hidden gears.
Moxley shrugged, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Fine then, I'll talk with myself." And he did.
The air, suddenly ripped from its eerie stillness, echoed with a bone-chilling screech.
From the crumbling maw of a nearby apartment block, a hulking silhouette emerged, its twisted form a grotesque mockery of what might once have been human.
Razor-sharp appendages, glinting like scythe blades in the dying embers of the sun, whipped through the air. And its eyes, burning embers in the darkness, pulsed with a feral hunger that sent shivers down Moxley's spine.
Instinct took over. His hand flew to his pistol, the metal biting into his palm like a comforting, if cold, companion.
In a heartbeat, the air erupted with the sharp bark of his gun, spitting a silver bullet towards the approaching horror.
The shot found its mark on the creature's shoulder. But the impact barely slowed its charge. With a thunderous roar that rattled the very bones of the ruined city, it lunged, its monstrous blades singing a deadly song as they slashed through the air
Moxley dove to the side, the wind of the attack ruffling his hair. Panic gnawed at the edges of his mind, but muscle memory kicked in.
He fumbled for a spare clip, his fingers slick with a desperate sweat. But before he could reload, the world around him seemed to explode in a blinding flash of blue.
Ciel morphed his arm into a blue railgun. The energy pulse, a searing lance of blue light, engulfed the mutant in its crackling embrace.
In that instant, the nightmare before them disintegrated, the horrifying shriek replaced by a tense silence heavy with the acrid tang of burnt electronics.
Moxley stared at the smoldering crater where the creature had stood, jaw hanging slack in a mixture of bewilderment and relief.
"Whoa," he breathed, the word escaping his lips in a shaky exhale. "That… that was amazing."
The sun plunged below the horizon, bleeding the sky with fiery orange and crimson. Shadows stretched like grasping claws, transforming the wasteland into a labyrinth of unseen horrors.
Moxley stuck close to Ciel, the cyborg's silent presence a flickering candle against the encroaching darkness.
They reached the skeletal remains of a supermarket, its shattered windows gaping
Moxley squinted through the dimness, his eyes adjusting to the gnawing darkness. Shelves, once groaning with life-giving bounty, stood naked, stripped bare by scavengers and mutants alike.
Despair threatened to engulf him, the weight of their mission a crushing burden on his shoulders.
"Nothing here," he mumbled, turning to Ciel. But the cyborg had already moved on, his gaze fixed on a dying neon sign at the back of the store. It sputtered erratically, casting the word "Liquor" in an orange glow.
Moxley watched, a flicker of hope sparking in his eyes.
"You reading my mind, big guy?" he asked, a grin splitting his face like a defiant sunbeam.
Ciel turned, his LED eyes flashing in what might have been curiosity. Reaching a shelf, Moxley's eyes widened.
Intact bottles of whiskey, gin, and rum glinted like forgotten jewels. He stretched out, his fingers brushing against the cool glass of a dusty bourbon bottle, his grandfather's stories whispering in his mind. A wry smile played on his lips.
Maybe this wasn't such a dead end after all. The liquor, a currency more valuable than gold in this wasteland, could buy them information, favors, or even safe passage. It was a gamble, yes, but one worth taking. A shot of liquid courage might just be the spark they needed to keep the darkness at bay.
His foot betrayed him.
With a bone-jarring slip, the entire shelf shuddered and toppled, a domino effect of glass and cardboard cascading down in a deafening avalanche. Moxley yelped, scrambling back as bottles exploded around him, spraying shards and amber tears of forgotten pleasure.
Outside, eyes flickered open. Mutants, drawn by the siren song of shatter and potential prey, stirred. Their guttural howls, a chorus of hunger and fury, sent a shiver down Moxley's spine.
"Ciel!" he hissed, his voice a ragged plea.
The cyborg stood impassive, his chrome features reflecting the fragmented chaos of the fallen shelf. His LED eyes flickered, a stark warning against the mutants outside
Moxley, trapped in a fortress of his own making, watched as the shadows outside writhed and shifted. Silhouettes, monstrous and twisted, began to emerge, their forms a display of flesh and scavenged metal.
Claws scraped against concrete, echoing in the eerie silence that followed the initial crash.
He tasted bile in his throat, the fear burning brighter than any forgotten liquor. But before he could succumb to despair, Ciel moved.
With a fluid grace that belied his metallic bulk, his arm transformed into a blinding blue sword of energy. It crackled with an electric hum, the air thick with the scent of ozone, as he ripped through the darkness, the blade a brilliant blue comet carving a path
Mutants, enraged by the blue blade's searing light, surged forward, their claws and gnashing teeth a tapestry of horror.
Moxley, a cornered rat in a broken cage, dodged and weaved, making a desperate shield.
He felt a searing pain as a claw grazed his arm, drawing blood. The metallic tang filled his mouth, a bittersweet confirmation that he was still alive. He roared, a guttural echo of the mutants' own battle cries, and lunged forward.
Ciel, a whirlwind of steel and electricity, fought with the precision of a machine and the ferocity of a cornered beast. His blue blade moved swiftly, severing limbs and carving through mutated flesh, driving back the relentless tide of enemies. But their numbers were endless, their hunger a bottomless pit.
Just as despair threatened to engulf Moxley, a sliver of hope emerged. In the chaos, he spotted a hidden door. It was a back exit
"Ciel!" he shouted, dodging a mutant's snapping jaws. "The back door! We need to get out of here!"
The cyborg's LED eyes flickered towards the door, comprehension flashing within their metallic depths. He unleashed a final, devastating blast of energy, clearing a path, and then, with a swiftness that startled Moxley, grabbed him by the arm and propelled him towards the hidden exit.
They burst through the doorway, tumbling into the night. The cold wind slapped them in the face, a shock after the oppressive air of the supermarket. Behind them, the screams of the mutants faded into the darkness.
Moxley, chest heaving, leaned against the rough brick wall, adrenaline subsiding into a bone-deep exhaustion.
He looked at Ciel, the cyborg's blue-blade arm now deactivated, resting at his side. The faint hum of energy still crackled around the blade, a testament to the cyborg's recent battle.
Suddenly, a towering mutant, its body a patchwork of scavenged metal and rotting flesh, leaped before them, blocking their path. Its eyes, burning embers in the darkness, gleamed with feral hunger.
Ciel skidded to a halt, his blue-blade arm humming back to life.
The mutant roared, charging with the primal savagery of a beast. Ciel met the attack head-on, the blue blade slicing through the creature's arm with a shriek of metal.
But the mutant, undeterred, lunged again, its remaining claw aimed for Ciel's chest.
In a split second, Moxley reacted. He threw himself off Ciel's back, grabbing the mutant's wrist with a desperate yelp. The creature's claw, inches from Ciel's vital core, twisted in his grip, its rusted edge scraping against metal with a horrifying screech.
Moxley wrestled with the mutant, his strength surprisingly amplified by adrenaline and raw survival instinct.
He slammed his forehead against the creature's deformed face, the impact echoing in his skull. The mutant roared in pain, its grip faltering.
Taking advantage of the momentary distraction, Ciel's blue blade whipped around, severing the mutant's head from its body. The headless monstrosity collapsed, twitching on the ground, its lifeless eyes staring blankly at the moon.
Panting, Moxley scrambled to his feet, his body throbbing with pain. He looked at Ciel, the cyborg's LEDs flickering dimly, a testament to the strain of the fight.
"Ciel, you okay?" he rasped, concern lacing his voice.
Ciel remained silent, but his LED eyes narrowed, seemingly focusing on Moxley's injured shoulder. Then, with a whirring of gears, his arm transformed, not into the blue blade, but into a slender needle-like device. Moxley watched in wonder as the needle darted towards his wound, injecting a cool, tingling liquid.
"Patching you up," a raspy voice echoed in Moxley's head, Ciel's internal speaker kicking in for the first time. "Minimal resources used. Rest required."
"Thanks," Moxley rasped, his voice raw. "You saved our asses back there."
Ciel remained silent, but his LED eyes flickered.
Then, with a curt nod, the cyborg turned and began to walk away, his boots crunching on the gravel-strewn alleyway.
They successfully made their way back.
Together, they limped towards the steel door, the faint glow from within beckoning like a lighthouse in the storm. Reaching the entrance, Moxley punched in the access code, the rusty mechanism groaning as it opened. Stepping into the warm, metallic embrace.
Moxley felt the weight of the wasteland fall away.
He turned to Ciel, who deactivated his needle arm and stood, silent and stoic, in the dimly lit tunnel. "Get some rest, big guy," Moxley said, clapping the cyborg on his metallic shoulder. "We'll deal with the rest tomorrow."
Ciel's LED eyes flashed once, a brief acknowledgement, before he turned and headed deeper into the base, his footsteps echoing in the metal corridor. Moxley leaned against the cold wall, his eyes closing as exhaustion finally claimed him.
He slept, the screams of the mutants fading into a distant echo, dreaming of forgotten sunsets and a world reborn from the ashes.
In the quiet depths of the base, Ciel deactivated his body, his systems humming as they recharged. His cold, metallic mind, while devoid of human emotions, processed the events of the night.
He had fought, protected, healed. An unexpected warmth, stirred within his circuits. He did not understand it, but the feeling lingered, a faint echo in the digital wasteland of his being
Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone