Explodes a man

I flew after the big guy, who braced himself for me. Rain threw his projectiles at the guy's legs while his back was turned, and Withdrawal followed it up with a tackle, jumping up to kick the guy from behind.

The blades flared, the legs buckled, and the guy wasn't braced or anything for the hit I delivered him. The impact felt like smashing a soggy bag of trash with a car. Ninety percent of him went everywhere.

*****

I turned to see the brute I'd hit was getting to his feet. His mass was lopsided, and what remained was decay and pus in a vaguely human silhouette, with a single arm, part of a chest, and the legs that had belonged to a six hundred pound pile of muscle and ugliness. The two thralls had been disarmed, one slumped against the wall, another cradling her arm.

***

"The thralls called him the Leper. He killed four of ours," Gong said. "We can't let him heal, we can't bring him with, and we need to move. It would be best if you ended this now. Getting to you and getting back would take too long. We need to help other groups. All of us are struggling."

Sure enough, the Leper was recovering. A hole yawned in the center of the vaguely head shaped mass of congealed human sickness, the beginnings of a mouth. I could see nuggets that might have been congealed pus or nascent teeth.

*****

I stared down the brute, who was trying to find his balance, mashing his meaty full-size hand against the needles that hadn't gone away when the breaker bled out. No eyes, no ears, just a mouth and flailing limbs.

I might not be able to do it if he had a face or the capacity to look me in the eye.

I flew at him, and I put my foot out, because a hand might have felt too personal, too close.

I kicked him, and I didn't hold back. Foot drove head into wall, and I felt the shock of soft bone and pulpy flesh crumpling beneath my boot.

Headless, he dropped like a puppet with the strings cut.

- Dying 15.4