The Rat King Hungers

A solemn figure wearing a green ragged cloak shuffles into the Southern district of "Old" Neo-Tokyo. The Dome looms above him ominously, a stark reminder of everything he feared and hated in life. But now he is the predator, now he will be a king. The figure pulls back its tattered hood to reveal the hideously deformed muzzle of a giant rat. It sniffs the ground before picking up on the scent of fresh prey. The Rat King drops to all fours and begins bounding towards its next meal.

A man wearing a thick jacket and a gas mask is walking the area, looking down towards the ground as he seemingly analyzes the dirt beneath him.

The Rat King creeps towards the man, silently crawling on all fours. When he is within ten feet of the man the Rat King pounces into the air, wielding his gnarled claws.

The sound of movement behind him snaps the man out of his thoughts, as he turns to see the Rat King within inches of his body, only managing to pull up his arm to block the claws before they sink into his more precious flesh.

The Rat King releases a high-pitched squeal of demented glee, he backs off slightly and eyes the man with contempt. "Tell me two-legs, why are you in this place? It stinks of death and sorrow, moreso than anywhere else in this blasted crater of a city." the rat half-heartedly enquires.

The man’s words are muffled by his mask as he replies, “I should ask the same of you, though it would seem from your looks that you call this place your home. _I’m_ out here searching for something precious to me.” He seems to be inching his right hand towards the zipper of his jacket, keeping his left arm up, projecting his neck and upper chest.

The Rat King growls at the masked man. "Leave me be, you seem dangerous. I just want food." The Rat King turns its head and sniffs. "Me smell small child somewhere there" it gestures to a ruined building to the right " I go there, you leave me be. Yes?" It smiles a heinous grin and slowly begins to move towards the building with its eyes glued to the man and his jacket.

The man’s voice lowers and he begins unzipping his jacket, “That I cannot allow, Beast Man. That child may be the one I search for. And even such, I shan’t allow a child to be harmed while I breathe.” He places his right hand into his jacket and stares down the Rat King.

"You wish to challenge the Rat King?!" It cackles in vile hysteria, pus and blood leaking from its bloodshot eyes. "Very well, two-legs! You die!" The Rat King stands on its hind legs and hefts one of the broken charred planks from a nearby pile of wreckage and recklessly swings at the man.

Seeing the board on a collision course with his head, the man spins to block the incoming impact with his left as he pulls his right hand from his unzipped jacket, revealing a four-shot revolver held within his hand, finger on the trigger, as he readies to take aim at the beast before him, as he shouts, “Fall!” He fires a shot towards the Rat King’s left leg.

The Rat King's body comes crumbling to the floor as the bullet cuts a path straight through his leg and the momentum from his cleave carries him forward. A thick green phlegmatic fluid spurt forth from his wound. The Rat King quickly recovers, crouching on all fours he skitters behind nearby wreckage for cover.

The man, determining the Rat King as no longer a threat, leaves him to his hunt. He, however, does not holster his firearm, and continues towards potential shelter where the child may be hiding.

The Rat King scampers into an abandoned tenement building and nurses his wounds. After thoroughly licking away the blood and filth from his fur he enters a scrapyard where he begins rummaging through metal and trash searching for something. He becomes so engrossed in his feverish search that he barely notices his surroundings.

Tern was questioning his next bounty pretty hard right about now. The "Rat King" does not seem like a very fun assignment at all. The last thing Tern wanted to do was crawl through a sewer system looking for some mutated rat that some rich asshole thought was the famed urban legend. Money was money however, and a fight with a rat king definitely sounded like an interesting combat. And, lo and behold, just as Tern was about to go ask around, he stumbles upon the rat king himself not even 30 feet away, self- absorbed rummaging through trash. He was pretty sure that monstrosity was the rat king, and with its mutated form and tail, it definitely fit the description. Tern quietly draws his pistols and aims, prepared to make the killing shot.

The Rat King continues throwing garbage behind him as he furiously rummages through a heap of scrap metal and refuse until he finds something that pleases him. The Rat King raises his trophy in triumph, a golden necklace. While the value of such a find is beyond imaginable the nearly mindless and savage Rat King appears to simply marvel at the glitter fo his new found bauble. He sniffs his trinket with great glee yet after a few moments of intense scrutiny and licking he finds the object unpalatable and stows it away in his pockets. He continues scavenging the heap of relics and ruined artefacts searching for something tastier.

Tern wastes no time, first firing a shot from the .45 pistol in his right hand, then unloading with the 9mm in his left. He aims for the body, knowing the first .45 shot will knock the wind out of even the largest human, if not outright killing him. "Incapacitate him and then finish the job" he thinks to himself, somewhat sad that they couldn't have a real fight since the rat king took no notice of him.

As the bullets embed themselves in the Rat King's thick hide he lets out a squeal of pain and looks towards Tern. Now enraged the Rat King's eyes flash a bright green and the holes in his torso beginning to expel large quantities of inhuman pus. The beast slowly shambles towards Tern and as it draws close it points a bony index finger at him.

"You leave me alone. Me have bad day, mask man already shoot foot. It take so long to heal." The Rat King whines.

Despite claiming that his hind leg was shot it appears just fine and looks as healthy as a hideous mutant can appear.

Tern is wildly surprised at the survivability of the mutant, wondering how it can even be standing. He debates on telling the Rat King he'll let him go and then blowing him to bits with "The Big One" but decides to go with the more straightforward, challenging, and fun approach. "Sorry Rat, but your death is going to give me a lot of money, so I can't exactly let you walk away. Tern mentally prepares himself, then continues firing on the Rat King, reinvigorated by his incredible abilities and the thought of the good fight to come.

The Rat King continues to withstand the storm of bullets fired at him and more jets of pus and blood begin to squirt from his bullet wounds. Some of the older ones begin to stop leaking and the yellowish muscles underneath begin to knit together and seal the hole up. The Rat King draws closer and closer to Tern becoming slower with each bullet that impacts his torso. As he drops to the ground he steadily crawls to Tern's feet gasping for air.

Taking note of the Rat King's incredible healing factor, Tern realizes he needs to finish this as soon as possible and continues firing, and when he runs out of bullets in his clips, leaps toward the mutant, seemingly looking to punch him in the face. Just as he makes contact, he triggers the hydraulic drive propelling the blade on his forearm at lightning speeds with 1,500 pounds of force.

The Rat King's head is impaled brutally upon the lightning-fast blade. As his head is severed from his body an immense surge of fluids pulses out of the stump aimed directly at Tern.

Seeing the fluids, Tern turns away and shields his body from them with his coat, simultaneously ripping out his blade and trying to generally get away as fast as possible. Fearing the worst from the disgusting substance, he ditches his now pus-covered trench coat and wipes his blade off on it as well.

The pus fizzes and strange flesh grows where it has touched. The flesh is like flabby skin and is easily peeled off. Meanwhile, the Rat King's stump has ceased oozing and a stopper of pus and flesh has hardened on top of the stump. In a few moments, a round protuberance starts to grow and it soon becomes abundantly clear that the Rat King is regenerating.

"Only one thing left to do I guess", says Tern, counting paces away from the regenerating body absentmindedly and without purpose. As he is doing so he takes the tripod and rear end of a large rifle off of his back. after getting about 40 feet away, he takes another piece off of his left leg, putting them together and setting them on the tripod. He then loads a large red shell from his belt labeled "boom" into the gun, which has lettering down the side spelling "The Big One". After his preparations, he aims, making sure he has a clear, steady shot on the monstrosity. "I wonder if he can regenerate from tiny little pieces" Tern chuckles.

As the Rat King's head finishes regenerating he catches a glimpse of the missile-laden tripod. His eyes grow wide and his body shakes but it is soon apparent that he is not trembling out of fear.

"OOOOOH SHIIINY!" The Rat King howls.

He leaps onto all fours and begins charging at an immense rate. He leaps and bounds with great strides and agility straight towards the incredibly dangerous mechanism aimed at him. His tongue sticks out of his mouth at an angle and flops as he runs.