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TIMING: Current LOCATION: The woods PARTIES: Wyatt (@loftylockjaw) & Mateo (@fearhims3lf) SUMMARY: Just some dudes bonding over explosions. CONTENT WARNINGS: Gun use

—

BANG!

The can used as a makeshift target several yards away flung with the force of a bullet. It was the farthest distance Mateo had been able to accurately shoot with his pistol. He closed one eye and inhaled, shooting three more times as he exhaled. Two out of the three cans flew away, and he sucked his teeth with disappointment. If he couldn’t hit still targets, how’d he expect to hit ones that were moving? Rolling his eyes at himself, Mateo mentally reassured himself that he was fine.

There were several dozen pieces of metal on the ground proving that a few missed shots were inevitable. He held onto that, removing the clip from the gun and checking the chamber to ensure no bullet was left inside. When Mateo was satisfied with his gun cleanup, he picked up his pack and began his march to pick up his trash. An asshole he may be, but he did not litter. He wouldn’t be part of that particular problem, and just as he was halfway through with the errand, there was the telltale sound of footsteps nearby. Only, they weren’t just footsteps. Each thump crunched several branches at once, as if the size of its foot was an indication of the source being a creature rather than a person.

“Come on.” Mateo groaned, irritated at himself for thinking that any day in that stupid town could be normal. With a huff, he reclipped his gun and pulled the chamber back, readying himself to shoot, but when he finally saw what was coming, he shrank with widened eyes.

“I’m gonna need bigger bullets.”

—

Most people heard gunshots in the woods and made sure to stay well away, especially if they didn’t happen to be in the midst of a hunting reserve. Despite this, Wyatt strode boldly forward, thinking about a meal rather than the stupidity of this particular decision. The sound was distant for now, and before it became a danger to his comparatively fragile human body, the lamia stripped out of his clothes and left them hanging over the branches of a nearby tree—it was a spot he often chose if he didn’t happen to have his modified backpack with him. The shift was swift and relatively painless, unlike that of lesser shifters, his crocodilian body bursting forth from the smaller human one that contained it with decades of practiced ease. The massive lamia rocked forward onto all fours and began his lumbering march through the trees, closer and closer to the sound. It stopped eventually, but he’d already locked on to his target. Golden eyes watched for a moment from the trees before he moved to meet the person in the small clearing, long alligator jaws parting in what you could call a toothy grin.

“Or maybe just save me trouble and don’t waste them on me at all?” he suggested languidly, rising up onto his hind feet. It was only then, once he was done talking and moving about that he noticed that the thump of his footsteps hadn’t stopped… even though he had? What the—

Another creature, one he thought for a moment might be another fucking lamia, came bursting out of the underbrush. “Whoa, hey! I got dibs here, pal!” Wyatt snarled, reeling back and out of the way of the other reptilian beast as it charged at them. Upon closer inspection, he was pretty sure it wasn’t a lamia, but he didn’t know what the fuck it was either. “Okay, new plan—shoot that guy.” It was turning on them again, beady gaze dancing between the stranger and Wyatt, sizing them up.

—

A voice called out to him, unfamiliar yet demanding. As if the stranger had known Mateo far longer than a brief moment in passing, a flash that could hardly be registered as any real greeting. Especially when a reptilian creature was telling him to shoot another reptilian creature. The other one was just a hell of a lot bigger, and charging way too fast for Mateo to get a proper shot on it.

“Fuck!” A large tail rammed into the mare, sending him careening away from the rest of his bullets. He maintained a firm grip all the way until his body stopped rolling at the treeline. Mateo groaned, barely managing to push himself out of the way when the beast tried to crash into him again. It broke several branches and left jagged trails from its claws in the earth. Mateo knew he’d be a goner if any of its grubby talons latched onto him, so he aimed and pulled the trigger four times in quick succession. Each landed, but the caliber was nowhere near big enough to cause actual damage.

Of fucking course!

Mateo rushed to his feet and booked it toward the talking alligator thing. He figured that his chances with that thing were better than with the nonverbal asshole struggling to find his way out of the shrub. It helped a lot that the reptile dude was much closer to Mateo’s size. The caliber he had in his gun would definitely do a bigger number on it. “Okay,” He skidded to a halt just a few feet away from the creature. Distance was his best friend at that point. “I shot the thing, and it did nothing. What the fuck do I do now? You should probably, I don’t know, go flirt with it or something.” Mateo shrugged, “You two seem to have a lot in common.”

—

Wyatt narrowed his yellow eyes at the man, taking offense at the comment. Unless that thing was a lamia, it's be a hard fucking pass. “Ain't in the habit of boinking the wildlife, mon frère,” he hissed. He was annoyed that his hunt had been interrupted, that what was supposed to be his dinner was now something he was going to be inadvertently protecting because he had to fight off this damn… whatever it was.

Still, maybe it was a lamia, and just had yet to play its hand. Wyatt had done the same, after all, especially in the pursuit of food. Hoping that this was the case and that they could at least agree to split the presumed human in half, Wyatt rounded on the creature and charged at it. It mirrored his attack, leaping forward, mouth splayed open in one hell of a weird display. Wyatt tucked his maw down against his chest and headbutted the creature full-bore, knocking it to the ground and allowing him the opportunity to pin it there, using his weight to hold it in place.

“Hey! Hey, look at me when I'm fuckin’ talkin’ to you, godzilla!” He was struggling to meet the creature's gaze, but when their eyes finally locked, he saw no reflection of higher thought. Just hunger. Ugh.

His next bite was too slow, and the scaled creature threw Wyatt off of it, sending him skidding through the underbrush in much the same way that the human had. “Okay, now it's personal,” he grumbled as he picked himself up out of the dirt, rolling a shoulder that had clipped a tree trunk as he was thrown. His gaze flicked to the other target of this thing’s ire, teeth bared in a grimace. “Don't suppose you got any tricks up those sleeves of yours?” It wasn't fair that he always had to do all the work.

—

As much as Mateo enjoyed the Godzilla movies and all the creature features where gigantic monsters fought each other, it was a completely different scenario in person. Not to mention, whoever the reptile dude was, he was certainly a lot smaller than the thing he was attempting to fight. He was practically thrown away, like he was just some rag doll with no real weight or threat. The urge to disappear was high.

Mateo grumbled, looking up at the sun and wishing it were the moon instead. At least that way he could go home for a much bigger gun. Maybe get that bazooka he’s been wanting to use. Or maybe just disappear outright and leave whatever the man was to deal with what wanted to eat him. For all he knew, toothy and toothier both wanted to chomp on him. With a groan, he rubbed at his face, discontent with the problem in front of him and he ran over to take aim. Taking the thing’s sight might give them an edge, right? That was Mateo’s hope.

BANG!

A shot rang out, and a roar followed soon after while blood coated over the thing’s eye. He shot once more, missing the other eye complete due to the monster’s thrashing and crying. Mateo sucked his teeth, holstering his gun and patting his pockets for something special. Finding it, he smiled. No, he grinned, whistling to get the friendlier creature’s attention.

“Hey, how do you feel about explosions?”

—

Wyatt was content to watch for a moment as the stranger took aim again and shot the fucking beast right in its stupid fucking eye, letting out an approving hiss and standing a bit straighter, with renewed confidence.

Explosions? “Uh, I feel fuckin’ great about explosions, mon frère. Why, you got some dynamite on that skinny ass of yours?” He sounded excited, even as the creature charged at him again. The creature, not knowing where the pain in its head had come from but hearing the alligator making a loud racket, was decidedly less excited by this news, but also probably didn’t understand what was being said.

This time, Wyatt was ready. This time he didn’t have to worry about sparing a fellow lamia an embarrassing defeat, and so did not hold back. All the fights he’d been in, all sixteen years of battle after battle after battle, earning himself one more day of life on this good, green earth, gave him plenty of edge over whatever this monster was. If he could not beat it by size alone (which was shocking, honestly: Wyatt was used to being the biggest bitch in the ring), then the rest of his skills would have to do. He leaped up into the air as it came for him, coming back down atop its back and crunching those powerful jaws down around its neck. He bit as hard as he could, wrenching from side to side, trying to crack a vertebrae or two. For a moment, his gaze met that of the (presumed) human. Throw it, he encouraged with a pointed stare, confident in his ability to get away before whatever it was blasted them both to kingdom come.

—

Man, if it wouldn’t expose a bigger can of worms, Mateo would’ve recorded the amazing fight. How often did people get to see that kind of action, real and up close? It would kill on YouTube, go viral even. TikTok would have a fucking field day with the airtime the smaller reptile had, and people would die from the beautiful crunching asmr. Ugh. Having witnessed the whole thing himself would have to do instead, but first Mateo had a bone to pick.

“My ass ain’t skinny. It’s proportionate and round.” He huffed, mostly humorously. Time was of the essence, but having been an asshole his entire life, it was easy for Mateo to prolong his duty a little longer. If not for the sake of getting an unnecessary compliment out of the reptilian jowls sinking into dollar store Godzilla. Mateo didn’t even care if he understood what the dude’s stare meant. He went ahead and pulled out two grenades from his vest pocket, but did nothing more than hold them in the air teasingly.

“Say my ass is round, and then I’ll throw them.” He clicked his tongue. “And make sure his mouth is open for at least one of ‘em.”

—

Rolling his yellow eyes, Wyatt bit down harder on the beast’s neck, feeling a satisfying crack beneath his teeth. It wasn’t enough on its own, of course—might not have even been a break. Maybe he was just giving this fuckin’ thing its first chiropractic adjustment.

“Kinna go’ aye ‘outh hull!” he shouted back, around the mouthful of… whatever this was. But the request tickled Wyatt’s peculiar sense of humor. Fishing for compliments during a dangerous situation? It’s something he would do, too. So he’d play along. His clawed back feet hooked into the creature on either side of its neck, near the underside where the tissue was softer, and clawed hands reached forward for its head. He had to let go with his own jaws to reach, grabbing at the thing’s snout and pulling back as hard as he could. It reared onto its hind legs, mouth agape, hissing and spitting and trying to shake the shifter off of its back.

“Your ass is great!” Wyatt bellowed with a laugh. “Perfect and perky! Now throw the fuckin’ grenade!” He waited until he saw it soaring through the air at them, and praying that this man had good aim, watched it disappear behind the monster’s head as he held its mouth open. Hoping that it’d swallowed it but knowing he was too short on time to check, Wyatt released his grip and scrambled to the ground, bounding away from the thing as it took a brief moment to recover from whatever the hell had just happened to it.

—

Mateo grinned, satisfaction dripping from his laughter as he released the safety and the clip on one of the grenades. He chucked it as hard as he could, excited at how agape the monster’s mouth was. It was wide enough to accept another treat, so without another moment of hesitation, Mateo chucked the other one with a cheery sound of exertion. The explosives landed in the creature’s mouth, one after the other, and guessing how big the chunks might be once they detonated, the mare quickly took a few steps back.

“Get the hell outta there!” He cupped his hands around his mouth, “You got like five seconds!” Which actually wasn’t a lot of time. Forget what people said about time slowing down when shit got real. Five seconds were just a tiny instant that could make or break any time-constrained task. More than once, Mateo had witnessed timing go wrong. Luckily for both of them though, everything went according to plan.

BOOM! And then another BOOM! shortly after. All that was left was a carcass with a blown off head. Well, among other things.

Flesh and blood tore through the air, and Mateo couldn’t help falling over in a heap of laughter. Not even the ringing filling his ears couldn’t ruin the fun he was having. No matter how irritating it was. “You know,” He arched a brow, propping himself up on the ground by his elbows, “Wasn’t expecting to dp a beasty today, but that’s probably the most metal thing I’ll do for a while.”

—

Wyatt gave a great whoop! as the creature exploded, sending its bits flying all around the little clearing in the woods. For a moment, he forgot how tired he was, how despondent and helpless he felt in the face of the shit he’d done wrong and fucked up and the possibility that none of this was real.

If this was a dream, at least it was a fuckin’ sick one.

“I ain’t never blown somethin’ up before!” he hollered with a laugh. “Usually more about rippin’ it to shreds with my teeth! That was awesome.” He gave the stranger another look, deciding that he didn’t need to eat this one after all. The blown up fucker would do just fine. “And lookie there! You cut up n’ seared my dinner for me. Mighty kind.” Standing to his full height, he stomped over to the man, holding out a massive, clawed hand that would take two of the stranger’s to grip. “Wyatt,” he offered with a chuff. “Or Lockjaw, if you ever find yourself at the Pit and want a good show.” In spite of everything, he still loved what he did, still craved the thrill of the fight. “I was gonna eat you, but don’t see much point in it now.” It wasn’t a threat so much as a poorly thought out statement of fact. The lamia was very good at putting his own foot in his mouth.

—

Holy shit.

At Wyatt’s height, it took nearly bending backwards to keep eye contact with the guy. Mateo couldn’t help but scoff with disbelief, and it quickly rolled into laughter. “Well, I don’t think I would’ve tasted very good.” He took the giant’s scaley hand and curled his fingers into a fist, holding on for just an extra moment. “I’m what you call…undead. The ‘made out of nightmares’ kind.” With some focus, Mateo urged sleep to weigh on Wyatt, but he quickly retracted his hands before he could make the poor guy pass out on the ground.

“But hey,” Reaching into the breast pocket of his vest, Mateo produced one more grenade. “As a thank you for not eating me, and because you popped your explosion cherry,” He opened Wyatt’s giant hand and placed the grenade in it, “Here’s something to remember me by.”

—

Made out of nightmares? What did that mean? He thought, of course, of his own issues with sleep, how plagued his dreams were by terrifying things that had no right terrorizing him the way they did… but maybe it was just an expression. Figure of speech. Undead could be scary, he guessed. Caleb certainly wasn’t, but Caleb probably wasn’t your average zombie… and who knew how many other kinds of undead people there were? He only knew about zombies and vampires, and was slow to assume that that was the whole of it. He was learning, impossible as that might sound, to never presume he had the whole picture in front of him.

So yeah. Probably a figure of speech. Except he was suddenly feeling tired, very tired, and his eyes closed for the briefest of moments. Desperate as his body was for rest, he actually did nod off, just for a second, but it was long enough to send a spectral crow screeching right toward him. The beast gave a start, snapping awake again and shaking his head, trying to brush it off as he refocused himself on Mateo. Something was being pressed into his hand—another grenade. Despite the way his heart raced, the gator managed a thick laugh. “Most excellent,” he chuckled. “I’ll be sure to let you know what I use it for!”

#wickedswriting #writings #nightmarescapes #c: wyatt #wyatt and mateo #gun use tw

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