FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Tristan roared as he punched, clawed, and used his enemies' bodies to kill more enemies. He was angry. He needed to hurt someone. He needed to hurt him badly, but all he could do was worry that he was out there, getting hurt. He was no longer infected, so he could die. Tristan wanted that to happen. He wanted to turn, see his broken body among more dead bodies. He was terrified to turn and see just that.

So he took out his rage on the men between him and the job's target. He grabbed one by the neck, broke it and used him to bludgeon another one to death.

They shot him, he felt the impacts, but didn't pay attention to them. He'd heal. He would heal anything they threw at him now. Until the virus killed him.

He grabbed a gun and fired at the men. He would not let it win. He was going to make it pay for thinking it could kill him.

The target was scared. Good, he should be scared because it was his fault this happened. He'd infected them. It was because of him Tristan used the antidote on Alex, not himself. The job required him to be returned to his sister alive, and Tristan would do that, but first he was going to make him pay.

More men came between him and his target.

They died.

He was within reach of him, and his target decided to stop cowering. He crossed his arms over his chest, puffed it, tried to make himself look imposing. Like Tristan cared about that stuff.

He opened his mouth to say something that wouldn't matter, but Tristan didn't hear it. Something impacted him and he hit a wall. He felt pain, bones break, but pushed himself away. Pain was irrelevant, it would go away. It already was.

The man who'd collided with him wasn't human. His body was covered with bony plates. Tristan's target wore an expression of surprise, so this wasn't one of his people.

"You killed him," the man growled. "I'm going to make you pay."

Tristan didn't waste time wondering who it was he'd killed. He walked to him and punched him in the face. The man staggered back, momentarily surprised, but not hurt. He got over it by the time Tristan was on him again and he struck.

Tristan felt more bones break as the force of the blow pushed him back. Tristan growled and unsheathed his claws. If that man thought he could hurt Tristan he would be surprised. Only one person had managed to ever hurt him in any way that meant anything, and if he wasn't getting killed right now. Tristan would do it himself soon enough.

He buried his fear that Alex might be dying under his rage at having that emotion and threw himself at the man. He used his claws, fists, foot, knees. He struck and slashed, but the plates covering the man took the impacts and he only staggered back.

He hit back, and Tristan felt each blow. Felt bones break each time. He didn't know how quickly he healed, but it was faster than the damage he was receiving. He could receive an incalculable amount of damage. He smiled.

He rushed the man. Dug his claws around one of the plates on his chest. The man screams and punched him. Tristan pulled.

With a pleasing slurp it started to come away.

The man put a foot on Tristan's chest and pushed. Tristan flew back, still holding the plate. The man's scream reverberated around him.

Tristan broke the plate over his knee and threw the pieces away.

The man backed away and covered his exposed flesh with an arm. Tristan didn't see anything there recognized. Human anatomy was what he was familiar with but this mean breath, so he'd have something resembling lungs. He was bleeding, so he'd have something that served the function of a heart.

Tristan walked toward him and for one instant the man looked at the door, but then his face hardened and he faced Tristan. Good. He didn't feel like running.

The man did his best to protect his unprotected chest, but Tristan forced him to leave it open, and when he did he clawed at it. The muscle and flesh were harder than humans, but his claws could dig in, and he pulled chunks out.

The man backed away. He knew he was going to die. He should have known that the moment he considered this fight.

He still fought, but now it was with the goal of making an opening to run. Tristan didn't give him that chance. He took the hits, ignored the pain and damage, waiting for his own opening.

When it came he plunged his hand into the man's chest, dug his claws and pulled.

What came out was harder than the surrounding muscles, and the blood that bubbled out of his chest was foamy.

The man clutched at his chest.

Tristan dropped it to the floor. He could leave him to die now. He'd drown in his own blood. But Tristan wanted the satisfaction of ending him.

The man staggered back as Tristan approached him. The fear was clear on his face through the pain. When Tristan grabbed him by the neck, the man tried to fight him off, but he no longer had the strength. Tristan wrapped an arm around the man's neck and applied force.

The snap of breaking bones was pleasing, but he didn't stop when the men had stopped fighting. He started pulling and a slurping sound came as he wrenched the head off the rest of the body. The body fell to the floor, limp, viscus blood pooling around the neck. He threw the head aside, this was what happened to anyone who thought they could kill him, hurt him.

He looked away from the body and was surprised to find his target still standing there, gaping at him. He found his voice as Tristan stepped toward me.

"You think I'm afraid of you? I'm going to kill you and all your kind. Mercs are a bane on the univer--"

He flew back at the strength of the punch. Tristan thought he heard bones break, and he hit the wall hard. He might just have killed the job's target. That would be inconvenient.