"You fucking idiot, we were supposed to catch this thing, not kill it!" The first voice yells.
Somehow, I can still hear the words of my two would-be murderers clearly.
"How is it my fault? I didn't even see where it was; I just told Gliscor to stab; I didn't actually think we'd managed to hit it, much less put a hole in its chest. What the hell are we supposed to do now?"
"Damn it, shit, all right, let's just wrap this thing up and toss it in the back of the truck. Maybe we won't get our shit kicked in by the bosses if we bring the body." The second says sounding hopeful.
Such disregard for what they did to me! – fury burns through the dying embers of my twin souls.
A feeling of motion passes through my useless, cooling corpse as they begin to move me.
This wasn't the first time I experienced death though. Dustin the Ranger, whose memories and soul I now shared, remembered it quite well. It gave us perspective on what was possible and how much influence a dead soul could exert on a body, especially if both souls agreed on the goal – REVENGE.
I wouldn't be letting my murderers get away with what they had done. THEY WOULD PAY!
As the two rocket grunts pull at my dead limbs, intent on dragging me away, I twine my will with Dustin's acting in concert, reentering our broken vessel together and pulling the muscles like strings on a marionette.
Our claw moves with greater speed than intended, and we manage to slash at the first grunt's face, causing a startled cry of pain and leaving a lovely splash of red on the condemned man's face.
Trying to use the same claw to slash at the other grunt, something twists wrong, and it's only then that we realize that we've pulled our muscles in slightly the wrong direction; our arm now dangling oddly. The conflicting directions we've pulled the limb in showcase our bones barely being contained by our overstretched skin.
I'd have to be a bit more careful; this new situation is not as intuitively easy as we had imagined.
Wait, is it I or we? There are two souls in here, but still, only a singular will behind both. Ah, well, questions for later.
The two men shriek and back away a few paces, the one man clutching his bleeding face and the other looking on at us in horror as we slowly figure out how to put our arm back into proper alignment. Sick crackling pops echo out as we misplace a few tendons before getting everything comfortably in place again.
While we are at it, the wound in our heart forces itself closed, blood allowing to be pumped once again into the still relatively fresh tissue.
I only died a few minutes ago; it could've been much worse. I think optimistically to myself.
A groan of pain escapes us as we reorient to our nervous system again, feeling all the aches and pains associated with having twisted our body up pretty badly.
Still, we push aside the fog of pain and ignore the severely damaged neural tissue in our skull. This fact would probably have been a screaming red flag if we were not newly undead. Ah, who needs a working brain anyway!
It takes a lot of mental effort to run our bodies like this, but luckily, two of us are in here, making the work manageable. It's also quite comforting knowing that a friend and ally is as close as your own heartbeat. Which was Dustin, and which was Zoroarak? I don't care; all that matters is that we are together and we will get what is owed to us.
Standing up fully and jerkily twisting around our eyes meet those of the two men, it probably appears as if we are a demon taking possession of a corpse. To be fair to the Rockets, this is a very accurate summation, and we would find that description very flattering.
We grin a bloody, too-wide grin at them, stretching our facial muscles to their limits and Beyond to create a downright ghastly facsimile of joy.
"Did you really think it would be that easy? That you could just kill me and walk away scott-free?" My raspy growl, deeper than ever, drops from my mangled mouth like a tombstone falling into an open grave.
They stand there completely in shock, and even the bleeding face of the one doesn't hinder their facial expressions from growing with terror.
"Well, It's been quite a while since I've partaken in human flesh, and I'm feeling rather peckish after all this excitement." I say before lunging forward.
Two screams and then silence.
Once I'm alone, I take closer stock of my body, making sure that there are no further wounds that I need to take care of. Heart still forcefully pumping in my chest, I can tell that most of the functions of my body will return to normal eventually; but for the time being, everything has to be run in 'manual mode' which is a bit annoying.
Slowly hobbling to a nearby creek, I go to take a drink from the water but pause as I realize that my coloration has changed drastically from what I remember. In contrast to my previously dark fur, everything is all white and red. Strange.
Idly, I realize that my dark-type Aura has shifted over to a more ethereal Ghost-type. Doubly strange.
I considered the possibility that this is some obscure evolutionary path for my species, but in either case, I simply chuckle, realizing that I've escaped true death by a hairsbreadth with sheer stubbornness.
Twin souls humming in contentment a smile stretches onto my watery reflection's visage.
"Oh, Richard is going to get a kick out of this." I rasp with a chuckle to myself.
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