Chapter 66: I Am the Chorus of Screams, Part 1
"I'm tired of talking," said War, taking a step forward. But Famine prevented her from continuing, placing an arm in front of her. Well, rather, she asked her not to continue. She couldn't really stop her from doing anything.
"Before the fight begins, I have a question: What do you think you're going to achieve, Sammy? Making your little sisters run to the first floor of that shitty tavern. What do you think you've accomplished? Stabbing me in the back and turning me against you? Now what? We sisters are working together. Do you really think you have a single chance of winning, when you couldn't even handle her or me separately?"
Famine laughed. If there was something Sam hated, it was people laughing at him, especially when their words had no basis.
"Is it the arrogance of being Satan's son, the Antichrist, about whom there are so many legends of bringing the world to ruin? Is that it, simple and pure arrogance? Did you inherit your daddy's pride, is that it?"
Sam stared at her intently. Around him, there was something like static electricity, as the air cooled and weapons formed. And yet, Famine and War simply stared back at him, as if his gathering of strength meant nothing.
"No, it's not about arrogance. I've shed that feeling forever. It's just that I know. I know perfectly well that I can kill you here. So I'll try. At the very least, one of you will fall. I swear by myself." After all, he had nothing else to swear by. Neither God nor Satan. Both could go fuck themselves.
"Okay, then I'll accept that you're not arrogant, just plain stupid," Famine replied.
Sam laughed, as she had done a moment ago.
"Think what you want."
The weapons flew towards the sisters. The time for talking was over. It had been over for a long time. This was the inevitable. In this dead city, filled only with corpses and broken dreams, Sam would settle scores with Famine and her sister. And if the other bitches wanted to make an appearance to try to screw him while they still had the chance, let them. He felt prepared to finish off Pestilence and, as for Death... well, he couldn't kill her like her sisters, so he could set aside the worst. Not worry about it.
Yes, he would resolve it, whatever happened. Any obstacle that got in his way would be destroyed, as always. That wasn't going to change, it didn't have to change.
War and Famine dodged the weapons, jumping to the sides. The various ice weapons fell in the place where they had been a moment ago, raising a large cloud of dust, but nothing more. Not a drop of blood was spilled. They had dodged them without problems.
Sam clicked his tongue and stepped back, entering the tavern. He could no longer hear his sisters, wherever they were. He hoped they would listen to him, that they would wait up there, instead of trying to come and bail him out, only to cause him more problems.
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War burst into the tavern, throwing herself through one of the windows and rolling nimbly across the floor, even over the broken pieces of glass, without getting hurt. Graceful as a fucking panther. Famine, well, was a bit clumsier. She simply shattered the wall. In a very unnecessary way, she created her own door.
"Is this what you call power against us?" asked Famine, shrugging.
"Stop talking already. Fuck," War snapped.
What sisters. Sam hadn't known Famine for long, but it should be obvious that War couldn't make her abandon her annoying playful attitude that reminded him so much of a cat. But of course, without the part where it was cute. Because she couldn't be more repulsive, even if she were literally a bag of trash, pus, and other shit.
The sisters lunged at him. Normally, he would welcome such things with a smile on his face, but unfortunately, they didn't do it in the good sense. As they approached, Sam wished he had a sword or something, or at least more command of natural magic, not just the infernal one he had awakened with the murders. He hadn't had time to study a fucking thing, almost, of course. But that was no excuse.
He tried to keep them at bay, always maintaining a certain space between them, firing incessantly. He wasn't going to get tired. He wasn't sure he could get tired, no matter how much he persisted in the effort.
Famine received one of the attacks after so much dodging. In the end, she had no choice but to raise an arm and take an ice lance through the skin, flesh, and even bone. He heard it crunch and that was more satisfying than the blood on her pale skin, as if he were marking her as his own. Marking the person who had marked him, who had dared to rape him. Well, to try. To make a dent in his mask of absolute control that he had had since he arrived in this world.
No, he had arrived alone and scared, wondering if he hadn't gone mad. Wondering what the hell was going on. He had taken control when Satan appeared and entrusted him with a mission for which he was perfectly suited. Come on, as if he had been born only for that.
Sam tried to take advantage by lunging at Famine, physically trying to keep War away. He might not have a sword, but he didn't really need one either. His own body was a weapon thanks to superhuman strength. He grabbed Famine's injured arm, pulling it, trying to twist it, break it. But it didn't work. He could see her face, covered in sweat up close, writhing in pain. And it was the most unsatisfying, of course. But he couldn't break it. He wasn't strong enough and she didn't give him the chance to keep trying. The bitch, as if she hadn't done enough to his cock, kicked him. The air escaped from his lungs suddenly.
Sam curled up on himself, bringing a hand to his groin, unconsciously. As if that was going to calm his pain instead of the opposite. By the time he reacted, or rather tried to react, it was too late. Famine shot him at close range, and it didn't kill him. No, his body managed to resist, but it sent him to the first floor along with his sisters, breaking through the ceiling with his body. Well, he couldn't see his sisters anywhere, but they wouldn't be far.
Sam took a deep breath, coughing, feeling as if an elephant had run over him. Okay, the fight wasn't going too well so far, but it wasn't a matter of arrogance. He had a lot, a lot of confidence that he could handle those bitches. It was just a matter of time, he had already wounded War and Famine. With a decisive blow he could finish off both, he could end this forever. He just needed to play his cards right.
Sam got up, panting, before Famine, and then War, pursued him through the hole. They didn't want to give him any fucking respite, naturally. Who the fuck would? War's tentacles were still coming out of her skirt and (for once, Sam thought he didn't want to be close enough to see where the fuck the tentacles were attached, if they were attached anywhere) wrapped around his right arm.
Sam roared and slammed the tentacle against the wall, breaking the wall before the tentacle. But he injured it, so he could sink the fingers of his other hand into the tentacle and pull, and pull until he tore it off. The damn tentacle spilled a black fluid like ink everywhere, that being its blood.
I Am the Chorus of Screams, Part 1: END