The Smell of Burning Fur on a Mild Spring Evening
Trigger exhaled on the count of five. One, two, three, release, four, five. The arrow sailed silently through the night air, piercing her target through the back of its neck, just below the base of its skull. Two inches off from her intended target. She was less than pleased. Still, the incendiary arrow would do its designated job. Buried deep in the flesh of the demon rat, it splashed white phosphorous over the animal’s matted fur, setting the beast on fire. The demon rat screeched, scampering about in an attempt to put out the flames.
Two more arrows followed in quick succession, striking two of the rat’s companions. The stench of searing fur and flesh filled the air. Trigger breathed deeply through her gas mask, glad she had decided to bring it along for this particular job. It had seemed like a bit of overkill, but really, there was nothing like the smell of burnt rodent fur to make a girl lose her dinner. The nest was now crazed with activity. Trigger fired three more arrows, each catching a new demon rat and lighting it on fire.
The rats were now racing around in a panic, which only further spread the fire throughout the nest. Smaller sewer rats attempted to flee from the nest, only to find their passage cut off by more fire. The frenzy grew and the rats' panic was thick in the air.
Finding her rhythm now, Trigger fired arrow after arrow into the nest. Her shoulder began to ache with the familiar burn that came with multiple quick shots fired in rapid succession. Brilliant white flames went up with each arrow that landed, followed by the inevitable scream of the rats. Next time she was bringing fucking ear protection as well.
She adjusted the way her legs were latched over the ledge, ensuring she was stable. The position was murder on her abs, but she didn’t spend time working out every day just to sit at home on her ass. She had chosen the spot well. The rats didn’t seem to have any idea where the arrows were coming from. They just knew fiery death was raining down from the sky.
She had been scouting this nest for several days. Her counts said that the nest held 15 to 18 demon rats, but you should always count on there being a few more. Her job was to take out the entire nest and she intended to be thorough about it. Regenerating bastards were damn hard to kill. Enough arrows through the skull and a nice burning inferno should put them out for good. “Should” being the operative word.
She intended to stay here until the job was done. Trigger rolled her shoulders and leaned her neck side to side, creating a loud crack. The rats wouldn’t notice the sound now, not over their own panicked screaming. Picking up another arrow, she set to work again. It was going to be a long night.
