Mathilda's Liberation

[Toneh]

Mathilda's Libiration.




A sound of thunder awoke Mathilda from her uncomfortable rest in her hut. It must have been a reflex, but she touched her self all over and found to her dissatisfaction she was in fact still alive. Another crack of thunder, this time followed up by a blood-curdling scream. She crept up to the door of her hut slowly, not bothering to stand; she did not even react as her knees and legs drug through shit and piss on the floor of the horrid cottage. A hand pressed on the door, her elongated fingernails scratching the wood. She watched from a crack in the door, the dim moonlight forcing her to squint her eye. The mutations were scrambling about. Screaming at each other as a mangled corpse lay several yards in the center of the village. Four of these beasts scrambled around with ancient guns in their hands frantically looking about. Then she heard another crack of thunder. Mathilda jumped this time. For the four Mutations in the center of the village, exploded. Were ripped apart, before her very eyes. Gallons of blood slammed into her hut, causing her to jump once more. She then hesitated, and resumed watching. The blood seeped into the crack in her hut, dripping from the roof, and on to her head. A droplet began forming on her forehead and running down her face, halting at a tear duct and them resuming its race to the bottom of her filth encrusted cheek.



Who was causing this carnage? Mathilda’s weakened eyes could not pierce through the darkness. But she saw specters just out side of the village. Cautious, moving through the rugged landscape advancing. This village was an old burnt out highway town, long since retaken by the desert, and the mutations had called it their home. She heard a voice she knew. Deep booming, commanding. The voice of the one who impregnated her with his seed. “FIYA!!!!” he roared. The silence of the advance of the phantoms had been ended with the cracking of the mutations ancient guns, which to Mathilda sounded closer to toys when compared to the thunderous earth shaking report of the weapons the phantoms were using. In rapid succession the thunder resumed, rapidly, causing her hut to tremble. Mathilda cringed back, pressing her hands against her head, but stubbornly refusing to take her eyes off of the scene. Screams erupted from the ranks of the mutants, as the scurried about the town. She saw more of them explode. Heard them crying out in pain. But they continued to fight back.

“DEY ADVANCIN!” she heard her…lover exclaim. Then she saw them. Moving in harmony Five of these apparitions. They were so tiny; they looked about the size of the mutant children, except for the stern black armor they wore. It was so fresh, and crisp against the drab brown of the village, and the hillbilly armor the mutations wore. Yet their weapons were larger then any rifle she had seen the mutations use. The bullets from the Mutants flew and slammed into them. But it bounced off harmlessly. They seemed almost impervious to the harm her master were trying to inflict on them. They were in the center of the village now and had formed a circle, and were firing in all directions.

“NORTH LOOK OUT!” she heard a high-pitched voice cry out in her native language. “Then from beside the hut she heard a rough, tired voice, and then a loud roar, and the clash of a metallic weapon hitting plastic. The voice grunted in pain, and then howled back. “Come and get me YOU FREAK!” A massive hulking beast of flesh and muscle toppled over in front of the door of the hut. It was he. The one who touched her. He fell, and then she saw a glint in the moonlight. Metal, cold, and honest. Doing as its master commanded it to, soaring through the air in the grip of a dirty black glove hand. It was almost in slow motion as the sharp jagged blade flew down, and slammed into the chest of her former lover. Mathilda did not leap back. She was now pressed against the wall of the hut. Watching, not noticing the savage smile that had formed over her wry face. Her smile grew bigger each time he howled in agony. Every time this ghost slammed his blade into his body. Every time this phantom yanked his blade back out, blood flying in all directions. Mathilda watched on, only a few feet away as one of the black armored phantoms, so tiny compared to her keepers, straddled the one who had taken her. Violated her, tormented her, and stabbed him, over and over again. After a few minuets the mutations cries dulled. And became soft whimpers. The noise a beaten dog makes when it is struggling to live, and became secondary to the savage desperate screams of the man killing him. It was savage, this phantom, his armor was not like the other five who were all watching him. His armor was dirty, brown like this town, covered in blood, scratches and cracks. By now her keeper had died, but the soldier was still stabbing him, Mathilda watched, smiling pretending that this phantom knew she was their, pretending she was the phantom. “Don’t stop.” She whispered, barely audible, just a mere breathe of a whisper.


He slowed down, she heard a loud sharp hiss, and a plum of must erupted form his shoulder. The Phantom grunted, and with drew his blade from the chest of her keeper. Mathilda hugging the wall, her eyes locked onto his gasping body, found her smile fading. In this moment she realized these things were in fact people. People like her, but not like her. “Uh is he okay?” she heard in the distance. The battered phantom slumped over the broken form of her keeper and then pushed into him, dropping his blood soaked blade. The mutants deep red blood dripping off his goggles and face mask. The broken phantom grabbed her keeper by the head and held his eyes open. “Look at me!” he snarled. It was animalistic. “You buffoon! You couldn’t kill me?!” He whimpered. Like a child yelling at his parent for getting him the wrong toy for Christmas. “You couldn’t KILL ME!?” He shrieked. The mutant coughed up blood, and groaned. “LOOK AT ME! WHY?! WHY COULD’NT YOU KILL ME!!!!” He demanded. She heard a noise come from inside of that broken armor. He was sobbing. “Why? Why?” He said laying on the dying body of her keeper. Saying that word over and over again. Mathilda watched, not realizing as he asked that same question over and over again, she was saying it along with him. “Why..why…why couldn’t you kill me…why..”