Page 203 of Wreck Me

His brains exploded all over the wall, blood spraying my cheek. Mmm. Now we were really getting to the good stuff.

I released him as his corpse hit the floor.

I spun and continued stalking down the corridor.

Coming B.

The slamming against the wall and my demands had alerted the others as I found out in the next second when the other three doors opened and a guy from each rushed out. If that wasn’t enough, another two rounded the corner onto the corridor from the opposite side.

Here we go.

With a roar, one of them came at me slapping a metal baseball bat into his palm. He was closely followed by another with a crowbar. Looked like they wanted the up close and personal violence of hand-to-hand combat like I did, especially considering they both had a Beretta each holstered at their hips like the other guy.

Bring it, motherfuckers.

Before they made it to me, I fired off two quick shots to two of the three just behind them, blowing their skulls to shit in seconds.

It fired the remaining ones up, and had the third more cautious one joining the party and pulling out a blade.

With a roar, they came at me, the one with the baseball bat reaching me first.

He swung at my head and I ducked, the miss destabilizing him, and I used it to my advantage, coming up, snagging his bat-wielding arm, then spinning into him and shoving the weight at my back into his chest, loosening his hold on the bat enough to rip it from his grasp. I turned and smashed it into his head. A delicious crack sounded as his skull sustained severe damage and he fell against the corridor wall, throwing his hands out behind him in a desperate bid to maintain his balance. I swung the bat again, sweeping it at his legs and ripping them right out from under him. As he collapsed, I didn’t get the chance to finish him off when Crowbar came at me. He swung and missed as I jumped back.

And then I was roaring and slamming my body weight into him, snagging the weapon and driving him into the opposite wall to his buddy. I thrust my knee into his gut, making him grunt and his grip loosen around the weapon.

Not enough, though, and then the guy with the knife was there already. I threw my free hand out and shoved him back. But he bounced back quickly and as I brutally twisted Crowbar’s wrist, hearing a definitive crack and a shriek from him, and ripped the crowbar from his grasp, a white-hot pain tore into my arm as the knife plunged into my flesh.

It was a sharp motherfucker, even penetrating through layers of my tactical gear.

And it was a big mistake on the asshole’s part, because I didn’t react to pain like most others.

It dragged me deeper into that dangerous headspace.

With a snarl, I grabbed his wrist and drove the blade deeper, his eyes shooting wide in some real shock as I got off on it.

It compromised his focus and his grip and I wrenched the blade free.

And then I became that thing… Wrath in all its twisted and depraved glory.

It was all a blur of fiery red, a cacophony of screams and desperate pleas, as I wielded the crowbar and the blade against the remaining hostiles still alive and kicking.

Bones crushing.

Flesh tearing.

Blood spurting and spraying.

Shrieks fueling the violence and brutality.

When I finally started to come out of it, I found myself in a sea of bodies, smashing the crowbar repeatedly into one of their faces, the guy in question already dead to the world with his entire face and skull caved in, completely unrecognizable now.

I dropped the crowbar and it clattered to the ground with a haunting finality.

I staggered back.

Blood dripped from my hands.

It painted my face, slicked my tactical gear.

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