Revenant Ecounter

A crackling ball of agitation caught Taylor's mind as he took a rolling roll between a large stack of crates, the lights of the brown building sparking and crackling in the air. The chaingunners let loose a rolling wave of lead in his wake, ripping asunder bits of lumber as well as their unfortunate cargo. The crates, despite their numbers, were of little use to anyone ---let alone Taylor. So why did they have so many?

Taylor had no time to think about this, as another closet of chaingunners opened up as he passed by. He turned and fired his Superior Shotgun at their bald angry forms, leveling them into salsa. He didn't like getting hit, it agitated him. In fact, the entirety of every step of his recent life agitated him, drawing forth a shake and shudder in a display of both surprise and madness to every source of aforementioned stimulus.

Several more chaingunner closets opened, and Taylor dove once again behind a pillar, ruining the flow of his mortal existence but simply one more time out of a previous, and countless, thousands. He stepped forward and received the wallop of the gunners' assault, simultaneously letting forth several consecutive blasts of his rocket launcher. The fiends were no more. Out of rockets, he sat down and leaned against the pillar that had served as his cover. He was lucky, having figured out long ago that not moving meant not activating any closets. Taylor slowly began to process in his head where he was in the brown brick building, of which identical corridor he was occupying at the moment.

Taylor slowly removed his backpack and laid it before him. Reaching inside, he looked for an item that could be of use to him. He hoped that along the way he would meet a few of his favorite snacks: The blue face, the brown face, and the green face. But alas, he was unable to find any, instead he pulled out a berserk pack. He hesitated momentarily, untold amount of thoughts running through his mind as stared intently at it. He shrugged and ate the syringe.

Having received what could almost be described as passable hydration, he rose to his feet and took exactly two steps before the walls instantly popped to a new position. Taylor stoically readied his Superior Shotgun ---ready for anything. Ready for yet another volley of bald men and brown pighorses in a brown building in a brown world. Ready for the coming agitation and the unsatisfactory conclusion of surviving to exist through yet more closets. He gazed past the darkness, ready for the oncoming waves of

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA"

Taylor reeled from the blow of the bony fist ---drawn from the frame of a frightening foe indeed. It twisted and jerked and hunched and rattled as it ran furiously for him, letting loose its scream of shrilly screeches, shocking his soul far and away.

Deep into agitation.

Taylor blasted the armored skeletal creature, tossing it off balance. Taylor's relief lasted only a moment, as this skeleton, as unsafe as it truly seemed, was only semi-serious. It shifted its weight with great mastery forwards once again. They were at once face to face. The skeleton seemed to wear a perpetual supernatural grin carved with expert agitation, as if to say (with great smugness) that it would be the one to seal his doom tonight.

Taylor sneered in response, it replied through its only method of socializing: by launching a volley of rockets his way. In a true feat of superhuman skill, Taylor ducked out of way of the point-blank projectiles. The force had blasted the skeleton away, colliding with the back wall. It had saved him mere moments of time, as the skeleton prepared another round. Taylor was about to ready himself to do the same once again when he noticed something out of the corner of his eye...

The rockets had turned around

Taylor ran down a small side corridor in face of the assault, his legs clomping and banging and smashing onto the floor rapidly from the sheer fright. The skeleton would not let him be and quickly followed suit, shuffling in a jerky marionette-esq fashion. Taylor had many shivers down his spine. His agitation intensified. He spun around and selected his fists, and leaped at the skeleton in a furious and deadly berserk punch, one saturated in pure agitation. The skeleton threw its own punch, a punch of pure death and fear. They met...

...

Original Ending:

Nice, I chuckled at the Spooky Scary Skeletons references.

I don't understand this sentence though, I have no idea what's it referring to:

Despite their numbers, they were of little use to anyone, let alone Taylor. So why did they have so many?

Yeah, that occurred to me while writing it but I forgot to go back through and fix it. It's supposed to be referring to the crates, but it's also slightly funny to imagine that it's talking about the chaingunners.

It's fixed now.

I was half expecting "and then Taylor was a skeleton."

Reminds me of a fic around here where Ke$ha is called up to perform at the UAC base when the demons invade. She gets killed, turned into a Revenant, comes acros the Doomguy and then...things. It doesn't bear thinking about for too long.

ETTiNGRiNDER said:

I was half expecting "and then Taylor was a skeleton."

Goddammit I knew I was forgetting something

I almost thought this was going to be a sequel to Imp encounter, only this time Taylor jams his cock into one of the Revenant's eye sockets. Thank fuck that wasn't the case.

Piper Maru said:

I almost thought this was going to be a sequel to Imp encounter, only this time Taylor jams his cock into one of the Revenant's eye sockets. Thank fuck that wasn't the case.

I too expected much skull fucking.

This story lacked erotic and sloppy demon sex. I am disappoint.

You're all thinking of Suicide Skeleton.

Wow. It has a storyline! Which is semi-impressive,