What Happened Here?

“What happened here?”

Send “What happened here?” to find my muse after they’ve finished fighting a brutal fight.

Could have Krigg finished that fight more cleanly? Yes, she believed she could have.

Would she have done so with all her limbs still attached if she had worried about doing things cleanly? That, on the other hand, was highly debatable.

And frankly, Krigg hadly had the time to be thinking about what she could have been doing better when she found herself heafting off of her a flab of shredded meat with a wet, unpleasantly sticky squelch. She sat up, slowly running a hand down her face to wipe the disgusting film clinging to her face, threatening to permanently gunk up her eyelids shut, and blinked a few times to stare at her handywork. If you could call it that.

The space smack dab in the middle of the large street junction was a smoking crater, the road's aslphalt having violently burst open from below from sewer level. It would have been easy to blame the combined force of the fistful of pulse grenades crammed to their maximal setting for cracking open the street like a ripe watermelon, but the massive frame of the mutated sewer beast whose gob they'd gone down certainly hadn't helped matters any. The grotesquely enlarged rat mutant looked like a melted pile of bodies with an ass barely recognizable from its head, but by concentration of heads alone, Krigg supposed that what counted as its front end was now thoroughly blocking the driveway.

The back end was still in the sewers, the two sections connected at a 90° angle by mess of raw flesh out of which exploded ribs bloomed, sticking out into the air in a pattern hardly coherent with a single ribcage. On top of that, the street was clogged by honking cars, bits of rubble, sewage and whatever explodified mutant rat bits had made their way to the surface, caking the pavement in gore. The smell was about what you'd expect too, doing a fairly good job of driving away unlucky passerbys.

Except, apparently, one gobsmacked Nypardian that had properly fallen out of the sky to observe the situation, and had just spotted her. Krigg let out a faint, tired-sounding groan, and proceeded to peel herself off the street with a sharp hiss. Her clothes had very little white left on them, stained either bile green, bright red, or an unspeakable brown. Her hat was nowhere to be found, for once, and what she'd kept were torn in multiple places, leaving dozens of rivulets of bright magenta pink to mingle and run through the gut residue.

Finally back on shaky feet, Krigg slowly ambled away from the scene and past Rex, weight only shifting gingerly to one of her legs, and retreating swiftly with each step, giving her a noticeable limp.

"You guys had a rat problem." She hoarsed, voice creaky and used.

@pzfr from [X]

[TXT]: Brther do you knw how early it iss

[TXT]: Whehrjthefuck

[TXT]: What the fuk are yu on abut

[TXT]: GOOGLE faster yUO BITCH

[TXT]: Oh ok i undherfstd

[TXT]: You dnt have a spine to pull out tho

[TXT]: Wibblywobbly light insides and all

⏰

Slip a ⏰to see a memory or a part of my muses' past.

Disclaimer for some kinda' gory depictions of a warzone.

A string of quiet, heaving sounds undercut by weak, raspy attempts to suck in some air through spasming muscles echoed in the warm, humid air. The rasps slowed, as though the reflexive muscular tremors were abating, only for an attempted deep a breath at the wrong time to shatter whatever composure the fresh recruit was trying to muster up. A sickening splattering noise followed soon after.

Krigg coughed, throat burning and eyes watering from the sudden chunder, hand pressed against the wide form of a fallen chain crab for stability. Well... the ass end of a chain crab, anyways. The bus-sized beast's segmented body ended quite abruptly in a splintered mess of shattered carapace and pulped flesh where a falling orbital shell had shredded half of it into paste. The corpse rose from the mass of the dead like some malformed boulder, its legs frozen in death in twisted arches that seemed to try and grab at the skies.

A fresh shell's distant whistle tore through the atmosphere, the baleful ringing growing in intensity until a bone-shuddering clap sounded off, the roar of the explosion moving like a liquid mass through ground and air. The small alien's body gave a distressed shiver, the autocannon she hadn't let go of rattling in her grip. Her fingers ached from gripping the weapon so tight her knuckles went white for so long. Another scream, another bang, another nauseated gag escaped her, another quake of her body - weaker, tired.

The world was so, so loud. Every new boom from distant shelling pounding the next area to clean up was like claws raking at her spine, sinking under her ribs to press razor edges against her heart. The world had been worse what felt like seconds before - but every sound felt like it could be the jumpstart of something new, the violent return of death and danger. It sunk deep, violently shaking tired nerves back into cruelly acute awareness.

The charge had been a maelstrom of noise, fire and vibration. A vivid nightmare she wasn't sure she'd dreamed or lived. A wall of information threatening to crush her from all sides she had to push through, holding steadfast to her training, lest she meet a gruesome end along with her comrades. And the smell- oh, the smell! Ozone and burnt flesh and bile and a million other disgusting scents clawing at her throat.

It was worse then, once it was over. The battlefield around her was nothing but rubble, upturned earth and the bodies of dead things. A few on her side. Many, many, MANY on the other. The ground was a carpet of pulped flesh, gristle, shell, bone and guts through which liquefied flesh and blood ran in knee-deep, muddy puddles. It was wrong. Everything was wrong in a way her body rejected violently. The air was wrong, the place was wrong, and she wanted out out OUT OUT-

"Alright rookie, not so bad." Krigg tensed harshly at the foreign sound ringing out from behind her, autocannon springing back into a proper two-handed grip. She spun sharply, heels skidding against the slick ground, only for her to slowly, painfully lower her weapon at the sight of another squadmate. A large, heavily modded combat cyborg with a bulky chest and four grasping limbs modified with bladed implements. Has Krigg been from elsewhere, she would have compared them to a top-heavy bionic praying mantis, with an extra pair of graspers on their shoulders.

The veteran squad member ambled closer, reaching out to tap her shoulder with the graspers on the end of his bladed forelimb. She shrank away from the touch, the intrusion feeling foreign and too raw on frayed nerves. If they noticed, they didn't care. "Don't worry, everyone's first scrap goes a bit like this. Lucky you, you made it out alive, and given your performance in the thick of it rather than on the backline, you just might cut it to climb the ranks!"

"I'll be seeing you later. Welcome to the extermination corps. Get used to killing things, you'll be doing plenty of that."

@5mind, from [X]

[TXT] : Wait how’d you get that number

[TXT] : WHO’S TALKING RIGHT NOW???? BLUE???

[TXT] : Also what the heck is tokusatsu

[TXT] : Oh I guess that answers your question. No I don’t

[TXT]: OOooohhhhhh

[TXT]: Dude dasscool actually

[TXT]: Gud to kn o

[TXT]: So if you get fjjked up you just

[TXT]: A

[TXT]: Out of existence?

[TXT]: My man goes to the fckng shadow zone

@pzfr from [X]

[TXT]: Brther do you knw how early it iss

[TXT]: Whehrjthefuck

[TXT]: What the fuk are yu on abut

[TXT]: GOOGLE faster yUO BITCH

[TXT]: Oh ok i undherfstd

[TXT]: You dnt have a spine to pull out tho

[TXT]: Wibblywobbly light insides and all

"Normally I'm not one to encourage this but: Think of the $$$ you could make before you change attitudes. Save up some dough before ya call it quits."

[[ Jokes ft. Rex

"...Y'know, I DO tend to suffer from "broke as fuck" syndrome whenever I arrive on a human-populated planet. Along with the scalding realization I'm the most litteral definition of an illegal alien, but that's another bit for another time. There's no currency exchange bureau that takes interstellar credits on your planet, to my ongoing dismay, so no way for me to earn a keep if I come by. And, uh... hero work with a flower pot on my head don't pay."

"If bitching about this and that can actually get me some pocket change to spend on casual stuff, I think I'll take that opportunity!"