[personal profile] benchilada

For those of you unfamiliar with him, here are Sir Reginald's stories (I'd start at the beginning), here is Sir Reginald art, all from others, and here are all things related, including art. The following is a stand-alone-mostly story that's part of a bigger arc.

I left him alone for a long time, but I anticipate his semi-regular return.

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“Oh…fuck,” said Sir Reginald as he stared down the alley. “Fuck fuck fuck.”

In the back, next to a filthy dumpster, a pile of meat began to unfold itself. In seconds it had become skinless beast somewhere between a dog and an antelope. It straightened, popping and cracking, and started to void itself onto the cement. Its urine stunk of rotten meat and spoiled milk. It opened its mouth wide, showing a tiny fire glowing in the back of its throat. As it walked forward, its muscles folded in on themselves, then unfolded, ends detaching and reattaching elsewhere. The effect was that of a river of muscles squelching and popping as it constantly adjusted itself for maximum speed and fluidity of movement. The beast made a terrible snorting noise and licked its lips, leaving flaming mucus along their edges.

Reginald didn’t check his revolver, just drew it from his shoulder holster and emptied it into the monster’s flesh. The thing only cocked its head to the side and extruded the bullets.

“That is patently unfair,” said Reginald as he drew an auto-loader from his jacket pocket and dropped in the four special shells They would be more than enough, he calculated, to take down the fasciopteryn. He revised his assessment when the animal dropped its haunches and birthed a second, smaller version of itself.

“Oh, come on!” Reginald shouted as he fired an explosive shell into the little one’s face. Its skull opened up like a flower, baring a mutilated brain to the cool October air. Muscles and tendons quickly flowed, sealing the breach and rebuilding what had been destroyed.

He fired again, this time launching a small slug of green demonic plasma into the same animal. It whined as its muscles stretched and popped, shifting the small fire under its lack of skin. It bayed and squealed, eventually managing to expel the hellfire-soaked lead, which landed in the pool of urine.

Reginald choked back his vomit as the piss boiled and steamed, releasing clouds of horrible fumes. The elder beast did its best imitation of a smile as the smaller edition walked forward, ignoring Reginald’s next bullet, one that expanded into a small but beautiful flower of flechettes, all of which vibrated at different frequencies. Muscle tore and metal stuck, but the thick and sticky blood that came out flowed nowhere.

“THIS BULLET WAS EXPENSIVE!” screamed Reginald, focusing his chi into his revolver for one perfect shot.

He shifted his aim at the last second, figuring he’d best kill the big one if he only had one more chance. The singularity shell exploded into life with a loud tearing of air.

The tiny black hole hit the fasciopteryn in the center of its chest and immediately began to pull the creature in. It fought hard, twisting and adjusting in a vain attempt to escape the terrible gravity. Bones began to stick through as unfolding muscles were pulled into the darkness. It tried to scream, but the sound was quickly absorbed by the singularity.

And then it was gone.

Reginald’s eyes darted about quickly as he made sure that the singularity had vanished. In theory it should have folded in on itself, become impossible, and vanished. Satisfied that the tiny black hole was gone, he turned to face the smaller creature.

Junior was sniffing the air where its parent had been, finding no odor at all where there should have been a horrid stench. It arched its back, tilted its head back, and let out a three-tone howl that shook everything in the alley. Reginald felt his bones vibrating and stumbled from the creature’s line-of-sight. His skin still numb, he began to run.

He needn’t have bothered. The speed of the monster was unholy. Before Reginald had even gotten half a block he felt a burning tear at the back of his shin as shark-like teeth tore through his Achilles tendon.

He screamed at the top of his lungs and fell to the ground. His momentum tumbled him a half-dozen feet, an arc of blood following his leg. The fasciopteryn skidded to a stop as it chewed and swallowed the chunk of flesh it had won from its opponent.

Reginald pulled a twisted wand from inside his jacket pocket and aimed it at the creature. A gout of green flame shot forth, but the creature shifted its muscles and rolled safely to the side. It leapt forward and grabbed Reginald’s forearm, ripping its teeth through flesh down to bone and dragging its muzzle down his forearm, snapping the wand in the process.

There was a loud pop and small green fireballs erupted from both broken ends of the wand. They swerved around Reginald, who was now bleeding and screaming at equal volume. The dog-thing was not so lucky, as both of its forelegs were blown off, the stumps seared shut. Its flesh tried to rebuild what it had lost but failed every time it reached the smoking bone.

Sir Reginald used his good arm and leg to push himself along the pavement as the creature flailed about behind him. It was no use, though. His injuries were far too grave and he was nearly unconscious from lack of blood.

He leaned his face forward and whispered quietly at the band around his left ring finger.

“Help me.”

Behind him the fasciopteryn was peddling its legs, pushing itself along the cement on its chest. Just as it caught up to Reginald it stopped in place and began to cough.

It was only a few hacks at first, then small belches of fire began to erupt from its mouth, along with what appeared to be tiny flaming stones. As the fit grew in intensity, the fire in its throat went out, extinguished by what were now clearly…pillow candies.

It thrashed about on the ground, vomiting the sweets everywhere. In no time at all it was dead, its head resting on a mound of candies, its legs still steaming green smoke.

Sir Reginald slumped forward, his face hitting the ground with a sharp thud.

“Oh dear,” said Princess Chocolate Buttercream Gumdrop as she stepped from behind nothing in particular, “I’d best get some pixie dust on you right this second. I’ve missed you, my most lovely husband.”

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Obviously not the end,

b

Princess Chocolate Buttercream Gumdrop is copyright benjamin sTone and Carrie Matras Polli

January 2016

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