No Biggie

The behemoth charges, forcing you both to dive to either side. Tentacles whip past you as you hit the ground hard. With a groan more of frustration than anger your tired legs push you up and forward. Without really looking, you fire over your back with your gun. Hopefully, it will make whatever that is pause, even if just for a moment.

“Distract the beast, I’ll get my gun.” Bellextra shouts a she grapples with two rain slicked aliens.

How hard can it be? The thirty foot monstrosity pushes a tree over rather than walk around it. Okay this gonna be a toughie. Nevertheless, what kind of badass would you be if you couldn’t handle this? Knowing that is very important that you act before you think about the answer to that question, you take aim.

In your experience, the art of combat is not thinking about it too much. Thoughts really just get in the way. Take this shot for example. If you had thought about it, you probably would have realized that things muscles are just too dense to be seriously damaged by your rifle, and then tried to throw a grenade into the things mouth, or shoot it in the eye. Doing either of those things would require concentration and effort. It’s way easier to shoot the rider telling the squid-rex what to do.

The precise shot takes the fucker square in the chest. The bolt renders him ****, and as the beasts strides rock him back and forth, he falls, his leg catching in the reigns threaded through its mouth tentacles. The monster turns it’s head as the rider’s weight pulls it to the left, right into a cluster of low hanging branches. These are no problem for the leviathan, which simply plows through. The poor bastards riding in the howdah on it’s back have more difficulties. With a crash the wicker basket breaks apart and the hunters scream as they fall thirty feet from the monsters back. They don’t get back up.

“Okay Bellextra, your turn.” You fire the remainder of your clip at an approaching alien with a net and then pull out your whip and your pistol.

“On it,” she replies. Grenade launcher in hand, she fires her entire clip. Six explosions flare into life among the glowing attackers and for a moment, the lights of Hellno seem dim by comparison. Those still conscious panic and flee into the glowing jungle, their flickering lights blending in perfectly. You fire a few stun bolts into the backs of the retreating foe, more for fun than anything else. A net grenade ensnares a fleeing huntress. It is a testement to Bellextra’s practiced use of the weapon that she can reload it so quickly. The poor little bitch screams as the net automatically tightens, and her flesh bulges between the chords.

Knowing what comes next, you point your gun at Bellextra in the same moment she points her freshly reloaded grenade launcher at you. “Nice work,” you say casually. Drops of rain slide down her curves, dripping from her chin, her nipples, and her sweet dick.

“You too.” Her gaze is impassive. “I really like how you dealt with the tentacle monster.” Said tentacle monster, now free of it’s riders, rolls on it’s back like a dog.

“No big deal. So, is this the moment of betrayal we both knew was coming when we first agreed to a truce?”