Death of a King.

Vulpes's first blast knocked the King not only off his feet, but across the dust and onto his back, where he slid an additional ten feet across the rocky pavement, having the sight of mind to roll onto his side, grasping his abdomen.  Unlike Nolan McNamara, the leader of Freeside didn't carry a personal frying pan in his arsenal of defense, so now he boasted at least two broken ribs, several more cracked or threatening to break. The man who self-proclaimed he "kept the spirit alive" was now very close to death, and he crawled away.  It was no good though; no one noticed, amid all the fighting, the nearly-invisible figure stoop, and then haul up the King by his collar.

Vulpes deactivated stealth; his sneering blond face was inches away from the King, whose mouth was pouring blood.  With the hand not holding up the battered King, Vulpes held a switchblade.  "Have you seen the way she looks at you, the way she always has?"

"What'n hell're you talkin' bout," the King mumbled, gasping for air, wishing for death.  His perfectly gelled hair was tousled, his white jacket now almost completely covered in dark crimson, both his own blood and that of the men he'd killed.  Vulpes turned his own cheek to the side, revealing the scar that the Courier had put there; the lines where she clawed his face after he'd killed Benny.  Now Vulpes pressed the blade to the King's temple, over his eye.  

"The way she looks at you.  She always has.  I don't understand it.   When we were children, she never spared eyes for anyone, for me, yet you she finds.......flawless."

"Who!" the King bellowed his eye widening, as Vulpes cut a line from his forehead to his eyebrow.  Now the King pulled away, landing a punch despite the crackling sound coming from his ribs, and Vulpes's knife slashed down his cheek all the way to his chin, a bright red line opening up.  The King fell onto his back, unable to breathe, and he choked up more blood as Vulpes frowned.  "You've got two more left," the blond scolded, putting his foot on the King's stomach.  This made the other man yelp in pain, and he grabbed the black-clad leg and threw it far, too far for someone in as much pain as he.  Vulpes was caught unaware; though he tripped and fell, he recovered quickly, the King rolling over onto his stomach on the pavement and staring down the enemy.


"If you're gonna kill me, come on," the brave Freeside King bellowed, and Vulpes's sneer turned into a sick smile, "I don't think just yet."

The King pulled his pistol, Vulpes lunged forward and kicked it away, pulling the man to his knees by way of grabbing the thick black hair, and then plunged his knife into the King's gun hand.  The blade went through and now the King could only grunt as Vulpes kneed him on the face.  Grasping his knifed palm with his other hand, the King was thrown onto his back a final time; he was spent, the blood was simply spewing out of his mouth now, and his nose as well, but just as he looked to the grey sky and muttered, "Julie......." a shadow crossed it.  A faint outline of a giant bird, silhouetted black against the almost-black.  And then another shadow, a very near one, blotting out the light of the clouds.  

This was someone--no, something jumping over the King's head and barrelling right toward Vulpes.  The King lifted his battered head.  "Rex!" he choked.  

The gigantic cyberdog had knocked Vulpes over just as he was about to administer another blow, and now he snapped and bit and growled with a ferocity unmatched.  Vulpes howled as Rex sank his teeth into his arm; the ex-Legionary reeled back as the German Shepard tossed the bone in his mouth to and fro, snapping Vulpes's arm.  The King saw an abandoned pistol, a casualty of war, lying no more than six feet away, and he forced himself to slowly crawl toward it, every tendon screaming, every bone in his chest poking and protruding in ways that it shouldn't have been.  

Rex's snarls were fearsome to hear, and now he was intent on ripping Vulpes's leg off, or so it seemed.  When the man tried to grab at Rex's neck with his good arm, the dog bared his teeth and snapped at that too, so that Vulpes, in trying to run away, fell and had to deal with the wrath of a metal dog on top of him.  The King grabbed the pistol, though it shook in his weakened hands, and he slid the safety off, turning on his side and trying to take aim.  Just then, two things happened; as he aimed, Vulpes finally withdrew his Ripper from his belt and plunged it forward, directly into the heart of the dog; this finally stopped Rex's deadly assault; and the blond man with the scarred face activated his stealth.  The King was too shocked to fire; the gun dropped from his hands, he fell forward, and from behind him, a gunshot sounded.

The King turned; the semi-invisible Vulpes spewed red for a moment and then pushed the heavy dog off him and stood, fleeing yet another bullet from behind the King.  The black haired man didn't even turn to see the hulking figure of a de-helmeted Arcade Gannon, who'd finally arrived with Julie Farkas in tow, both of them staring with a look of deepest hatred to the empty space that now contained Vulpes.  The King, who had no strength left, forced himself over to Rex, forced himself to pick up the now whimpering dog's head and hold the beloved animal's chin in both hands.  Rex looked up at him sadly, whining more loudly now that the threat was gone, and he struggled to scoot closer to the man he'd called master for a long time.