Chapter 8: Another Challenger

As Ferral continued running through the city, people would jump or be pushed out of the way. “Everyone! Please moooove!” He shouted. “Where the hell are you taking me?!” Dante asked, his back dragging against the ground. “To the park!” Ferral responded as he turned the corner. Several people saw Ferral coming closer. They were confused at first, but quickly moved out of the way. Once the area was clear, Ferral lifted up Dante, slamming his body into the ground. His body bounced back a little, staying on the ground for a while, wheezing for air.

Dante hissed in frustration, getting up and dusting himself off. “I will not lose to some barbarian like you!” He snarled. “I won’t lose either!” Ferral declared, before getting back into his stance. He smiled, “But, I will say, fighting someone as strong as you…it’s really exciting.” He scoffed, “Oh, really? What makes this so exciting?” “You’re a challenge, and I like challenges. He didn’t respond for a moment, then burst out laughing. He snorted, “Then I suppose it’s just part of our DNA, because I enjoy a good challenge too.” He smirked, “You want a challenge?” Opening his mouth, Dante let venom from his fangs drop onto the tips of his claws. He chuckled, “Even get scratched, my venom will course through your system. Don’t think you’ll suck it out either, I won’t give you a chance.” “Alright then, I just won’t get hit.” They charged at each other. Dant took a swipe, but Ferral ducked and socked him across the jaw. Dante bolted forward, swiping his claws at Ferral's face. He barely had time to dodge the oncoming attacks, one cutting his left cheek. The cut stung really bad. Dante smirked, “I have the most potent venom of any of my fellow serpents at the Facility. The more I cut you, the less of a chance you’ll have to win. You might even die!” Ferral groaned as his body started to ache; it became harder to breathe. But he fought through the pain; he had to win. It would be tough, but he was determined.

*Overhead, a bug-like drone was hovering over the fight. Its camera eyes captured everything and showed it on a large screen for other scientists to watch. “See! I told you, Experiment 9320 is still too weak!” A male scientist got up and pointed at Dr. Atlas. He and Dr. Aero were sitting at the top of the room. The man sat back down while the others watched, fascinated. Dr. Dero leaned and whispered to Dr. Atlas, “We’d better put a stop to this, or 3485 will perish.” Dr. Atlas continued watching the screen, “Indeed, it would seem 9320’s growth is much more rapid than expected.” Atlas whistled at one of the security guards in the room. He walked over, leaning to hear his order. “Release Experiment 8752 onto the battlefield,” Dr. Atlas told him, “Make it quick.” The guard nodded, “Yes, sir.” He walked off, leaving Atlas and Aero to watch the fight.

“Do you truly think we need to use 8752 this early into 9320’s training?” Dr. Aero asked, keeping his eyes on the screen. “Yes, 9320 needs the stimulation of battle,” Dr. Atlas responded, “3485 alone won’t cut it. 9320 is only widening the gap with every traded blow. He’s adapting…evolving.”

Back at the fight, Ferral had kicked Dante straight through a tree. It fell over, crashing down onto a park bench. He rolled across the ground, stopping by a small lake. Dante’s body was bruised and battered, while deep and small cuts littered Ferral’s. He was a bloodied mess, panting heavily from the effects of the venom. His body felt like it was on fire; he struggled to keep his arms up. Dante struggled to get back up, but fell back down. It was obvious he couldn’t continue. Ferral took a deep exhale, “I guess you can’t keep fighting?” He lowered his arms, “You should go back home, okay?” Dante finally mustered enough strength and got up.

“Don’t treat me like I’m trash!” He hissed, “This fight isn’t over!” “Why, you're too hurt. Your venom isn’t hurting as much anymore either.” As he watched Dante get up, that brief rest seemed to make his body feel better. The burning throughout his body eased off, and he was able to breathe better. “I don’t need your pity!” Dante fumed, “Besides, how could you just let me go? I threatened to kill you.” Ferral waved it off, “I have a feeling you weren’t actually not gonna do it. Otherwise, you would’ve surprised me back at the store, right?” Dante was rather surprised by his answer; it completely took him off guard. “I guess you’re a little smarter than they said.”

Before Ferral could say another word, he got knocked away and smashed into one of the park’s restrooms. “What are you doing, Dante?” A large man asked. His hair was black, long, and slicked back. He had gorilla-like features, having long, muscular arms and short, thick legs. His forearms were bigger than the rest of his arms, and both his arms and legs were covered in dark gray fur. Dante slithered over, “Attar? Why are you here?” He asked, annoyed. “I was told you’re having trouble. You should feel thankful.” Attar responded, his voice deep and commanding. Dante spat blood, “The Failure is more persistent than I thought, but I had him on the ropes.” Attar scoffed, “Sure.”