Post by Chromo on Jun 18, 2019 2:10:47 GMT -6
PREVENTION IS BETTER THAN THE CURE
CHROMO'S PL: 1,365,520 (105,040 BASE || x13P)
Only a few days had passed since the attack. Stories of the terror that nearly destroyed West City were like something out of a horror movie. Some people claimed the creature responsible was a demonic beast with no sense of good or mercy- a giant, terrifying creature straight out of a horror movie. Others said it was some new alien species attacking the Earth, with West City as it's first target in conquest. Confirmed reports were vague at best, but one thing was very clear. Whatever horrific monster attacked West City was terrifyingly ruthless- and still alive and out there somewhere.
"H-heck!" Chromo yelped. The beetle pulled at his leg, swiftly yanking his limb out of a tangle of bushes behind him. His breaths were heavy, body still bloodied- splotches of dull red outnumbered the pale skin yellow on his torso. One of his eyes had been sealed shut by dried blood that wasn't his own. Using his talons like a pair of crutches to support himself, Chromo growled in strain as he tried to open his wings and take off to the skies. He could only hover a few inches above the ground before collapsing to the forest floor with a yelp- his crumpled wings caved on themselves before he could fly far. His power was mighty, easily sensible for miles around, but Chromo had never felt weaker in his life.
He wished he could take it all back. Maybe he could try and find a time machine or something, just like in Forward to the Past. But if that movie was anything to go off of, would he be erased from existence if he tried that...? Chromo grumbled again, limping forwards through the woods. He'd managed to find a safe place to drop Tarch's unconscious body off at awhile ago, and now was back on his lonesome- except this time, there would be nobody left to look for him in worry.
Chromo wrapped an arm around his torso again. His stomach wound was still fresh, but his namekian genes, as small as they were, were already at hard work trying to seal the wound. That didn't mean it still didn't hurt like heck, though. Hobbling through the woods aimlessly, the claims him being a horror-movie monster didn't seem too far off. His bloody body still dripped with red, neon green mucus frothed from within his mouth. Sharp talons, red eyes, jaws jagged enough to pierce flesh and bone, and a pitiful, puppy-like whimper escaping his throat.
That tree looked familiar. This had to be the way out of the mountain woods!... Or he'd already passed this point a few times. He wasn't sure. His mind felt foggy. He didn't even know where he'd go after this. Chromo shambled forwards with a mumble, only to yowl again as he tripped over the rough ground and scattered rocks at his feet. The beetle tumbled down a hill, skidding beside a small pond with grass stains littering his shell. He shook his head and opened one of his eyes, gaze trailing to the pond from where he lied. Chromo didn't even recognize his own reflection for a second. He never got a good look at himself yet.
The beetle sighed in defeat, rubbing his watery eyes with his slightly less-bloodied claw. He couldn't stop a lone hiccup from escaping his mouth. Maybe laying down for a few minutes wouldn't hurt...