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The Dark Shadow

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Written by Arian Mabe (Amethyst Mare)

Commissioned by anonymous

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Everyone knew about the dark shadow. It loomed and it towered and it struck fear into the hearts of everyone that came across it, reaching far, far across the ground, covering skyscrapers and parks, alleyways of seedy dealings and more. There was nothing worse than the dark shadow.

It was something that crept into nightmares, sending bodies tossing and turning long into the night, all when they knew that, if the shadow came, they would not be able to get free – they would be doomed. They would be trapped even more so than if they had been miles underground, though the end that they would meet, if they came face to face with the shadow, was not going to be any better.

The dark shadow came quickly and no one was spared.

If you were on the ground, of course.

Rolig was not a wolf who cared for the screams of the people and anthros that he snatched up as he stormed through the city, bellowing and snarling, ropes of drooling streaming from his muzzle. The black wolf’s eyes were creased at the corners, though not from any kind of mirth or light-heartedness, no, not in the slightest. He was who he was and the wrath of destruction raged through the macro, his paws thunderous, clenching into fists.

If the cities were his playground, they were a playground of death…

He snarled, his lips pulling back from his teeth, the dark, looming shadow that people so feared. With a pawful of humans and anthros – he didn’t care what species they were or even who they were – he smirked cruelly. Pressing both paws together, he squeezed furiously, concentrating just so he could feel the crunch and snap of bones popping under his paws.

The wolf laughed, cold and callous. A macro, after all, had to have their needs satisfied – and the only way to do that, in most cases, was by rampaging. Sometimes passionate sex could do the same, but Rolig was rather one for destruction, whether it was storming and stomping around airports, smashing through planes (occupied or not) or taking to the streets of the cities again, watching his reflection pass him in the glass windows.

With blood smeared across his paws, and worse, he grunted and wiped the bodies off on a nearby building. It seemed to have some importance to the little creatures whose lives he trampled over, though…what did he care about that?

The black wolf stomped on, lifting his hind paws high just so that he could bring them down with even more force than before, crunching and crushing them down into cars and other vehicles. The tarmac splintered under his feet like ice, great cracks running through it, torn up in ruts where he was vicious enough to drag his claws through it too. It was not as if an impassable street was of any concern to him or to those whose lives he had crushed.

One smash of his paw and…just like that, they were gone. He smirked, raging on power, his chest vibrating faintly with a deeply rooted sense of mirth. His tail swung loosely behind him as he stomped down one of the wider streets, with multiple lanes across it, sweeping his foot out in a languid kick just to put it through a storefront window. Glass shards rained down around his foot and ankle but it was of no consequence to him, not even noticeable to a beast of his towering height as an itch.

It would take a lot more than that to get a macro wolf to notice it.

Rolig laughed down at the tiny people and anthros fleeing his stomping feet, hunching forward and pretending to run after them, the thunderous reverberations that were sent out from his feet. Their screams were so small, so tinny, high-pitched as if they couldn’t raise their voices anymore. If he wanted to bellow, to really let out a roar, the soundwave produced would have knocked them off their feet, most likely sending the less surefooted of them flying.

That could have been entertaining too. But Rolig had a different kind of hunger, in that moment, to satisfy.

And a whole city to play with…

He huffed and growled, tail growing stiff as he turned suddenly and plunged both paws into the body of a skyscraper. He didn’t know who or what was in there, even as glass raked down the thick fur of his arms, but it didn’t matter, not in the slightest, as he grabbed pawfuls of what turned out to be humans. Their tiny bodies were so fleshy, yet they were dotted all over his palms like ants.

Not quite that small, no… But small enough that he really couldn’t see them of any consequence, not in his life or his world. He smirked and peered closely at them, the upper side of his muzzle wrinkling as he put his plan into action. His paws could fit about ten of their bodies on each palm, though they were no safe resting place for any creature. Taking three, though the third was only by a leg and an arm, between the thumb and forefinger of each hand, the wolf carelessly let the others drop, ignoring their screams. They’d stop when they hit the ground.

Those in his paws, however, he grasped and, slowly, pulled apart. More and more, to the point where they could not even scream, their bodies strained and stretched beyond the point of any human comprehension. They seemed to have been some kind of office workers, though their fine clothes, suits and blouses and trousers, would not save them then, a stray shoe tumbling down to the ground.

Slowly, terrifyingly, their bodies split as he, quite literally, tore them limb from limb. Or limb from torso, limb from hip… Anything really. Rolig wasn’t picking, breathing harshly, his chest rising and falling more and more sharply as he raked in a much-needed breath. Even at his size, he had to keep that basic function of his body going, darkness swirling in his eyes.

Or maybe that was the last thing his victims saw as the light and the life faded from them. Their lives meant nothing and Rolig eventually tore them in half completely, though he did not quite have the dexterity in his paws and fingers to pick apart smaller details.

Besides, the wolf tired of his games.

Tossing those victims aside, he turned his attention back to the streets, where the humans seemed to be streaming down narrower alleyways where they thought that he couldn’t get to them, even down into the park. As if that was going to stop them. He ignored the ones that did manage to duck underground to get away from him, even if he could have easily ripped up whole underground rail systems just to get at his targets. Maybe that was a rampage for another day, breaking them right where all those little, insignificant lives thought that they were safe…

From him, they would never be safe.

He grunted, stomping viciously down the street, pausing only at an alleyway that had a larger cluster of anthros inside, all penned in together like sardines in a tin. The wolf let out a low, ominous laugh, rumbling from his chest, and stuck his foot in. That was something that they had not expected and the screams rose, echoing off the close confines of the alleyway wall, bouncing back and forth, back and forth.

Until his foot came down, slamming into a horde of anthros and bearing down, scraping them across the ground. The blood smears left behind were none of Rolig’s concern, though he relished in the lives snuffed out, in being able to rend and tear, to rip one reality from another.

Scraping them out into the main street, he grunted and wiped his foot off, carrying on, lunging into a big, ground-covering stride, just to get to a part of the city where the creatures had not fled to narrow spots. No, it was more fun to stomp and grind them down into the ripped-up tarmac – and he more than got his fill of that as he entered a street where cars were all backed up, unable to go anywhere due to an accident or something.

Perfect.

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The first people to see the wolf gave in and lunged from their cars, screaming, tiny dots below him, flailing, running for their lives. The wolf boomed a laugh, storming forward, leaping from one side of the street to the other with both hind paws closer together, all so that he could target his stomping destruction more closely. Every time he came down with a shattering of tarmac, more were snuffed out, though he caught cars too, metal frames bending and buckling easily under the massive weight of the wolf. He could have barrelled his way through a skyscraper if he pleased, shouldering it aside as if it was nothing more than a twig left upright, though that didn’t appeal to him.

Even though his motions were quick, slamming his feet down, crushing life and objects under them without any consideration for what he was doing, he felt everything. The pop of skulls cracking under his foot, the gush of fresh blood, an abdominal cavity being exposed. After so much time stomping and overrunning cities, Rolig had learned to appreciate those finer things, those small things. He grunted, snapping his jaws, though nothing would hide his smile as he lunged for a hunkered-down group of anthros, covering them with his foot.

In the blink of an eye, they were gone, crushed under his hind paws, wriggling his toes over them and wiping off the remains. He wouldn’t want to drag the remains of those who had been damned long before he had even entered the city along with him, after all.

He rampaged on, smashing through cars, picking up a bus and hurling it down the road, where it launched itself into a tall building and stuck out the side, smoking. There might be a fire, though he wouldn’t be there to see it.

Relishing in his power, the easy control over himself that he had as a macro, the wolf flexed his muscles, broad across the chest. The heavy roll of his shoulders would have begged the eye if there had been anyone out there of his size to appreciate him, though Rolig didn’t care. Not as he satisfied the need within himself to stomp and rampage, to rain down death and destruction with every stomp and grind of his feet.

Standing on a bus, he laughed, bellowing it up from deep within his stomach, slowly crunching down on it. Bit by bit, the windows blew out, the frame bent and the people within were crushed to a pulp, mashed into the framework of the bus. Rolig wouldn’t know if they were ever recovered or the whole thing written off into the mass graves that he so often left behind.

Taking pawfuls of humans and anthros, the wolf growled and sank into the sense of satisfaction that came with rampaging. He was coming to an end, but there were still finer notes to be appreciated, smashing his pawfuls of bodies together and crushing them together, grinding the heels of his paws back and forth until all the screams and gasps of breath, picked up by his sensitive ears, had died off.

Every last one of them.

The macro wolf, after all, was not to be denied, and he was going to have his way, regardless of the forces they put up against him on the outskirts of the cities. Repeatedly, he would barrel and force his way past the defences, whether it was giant rolls of macro-height wire or sentry towers or anti-macro electrical repellent: nothing stopped Rolig.

And that would remain the case forever as he exhaled, ears pricked, smirking more languidly, pleased with all that had come to pass by the thunder of his paws. And so it was that he would be known as the dark shadow, the demon that brought destruction untold to every city he came across, his rampages endless.