Bottle, Part VI

"You're not here on a mission of peace and goodwill, are you?" said the figure inside the bottle, dressed in a cloak. He was humoring the mob, and stalling; he knew his time was almost up but wished things would proceed to end differently: he wanted to die old, or at the very least by his own hands.

"You sound strange. Anyway, you know why we're here." shouted the fox, over the crowd's deafening roars of "grind his dust to dust!" and "we're gonna murder your ass killed". He was fighting with himself on how best to end this now. He had offered the bear a swift death but now his hand was forced: the mob was bloodthirsty and riled up. They expected mayhem and carnage. He wanted things to end quickly so he could leave all this behind him. They wanted to take their time for all the time he made them uncomfortable and irritated and angry and so forth.

"I've given this some though-" the cloak started, hoping in vain that they would listen to him. The crowd interrupted him. "We don't care! Off with your head! I'll wipe my ass with your fancy coat!" and they quickly moved forward, only to be stopped by the fox shouting "Stop, you stupid bastards!"

The response was disappointing but not surprising.

He had indeed given himself time to think. Moving himself past the tears he cried over the mistake he made regarding his only friend (or the closest thing he had to a friend), he came to the conclusion that he had in fact been a rotten creature. It was just his way, however; nobody took the time to make any effort to help him. And nobody wanted to help him now.

"Can I say something?" he started.

What happened next people chalk up to both idiocy and providence. Idiocy because it caused more damage and destruction than desired. Providence because it ultimately got rid of the bear.

A cat, who claimed to have been wronged financially by the bear, burst forth from the crowd with a sword in hand and leapt to the bottle.
The mob could only stare in shock as the cat flew, bloodlust and all the hatred in the world swelling in his large amber eyes. The fox closed his eyes in disappointment and turned around. The cat's sword hit the bottle with a strange clank sound. It made a crack in the enormous bottle. A sharp cracking noise followed which split the ear drums of various mob members. The crack spread throughout the bottle as every stared in silence.

"If that's how you want it." Before anyone knew what happened, the bottle burst into a thousand explosions. The shards letting loose liters of blood from whoever was unfortunate enough to be caught in the blast. The bright green grass drowned in the blood of innocents. After all the shards had finished raining and claiming victims, those who were strong enough surveyed the damage. The figure that had been inside the bottle was a dummy with a speaker; the bear had escaped. The fox took the cloak and ripped it up in anger.

"Find him! Now!" he snarled, trying to hide his amusement and admiration. Unfortunately, everyone was writhing in pain or sobbing in mourning. Nobody paid attention to the figure standing behind a tree: the bear, obviously. The bear could only glare at this sight of creatures writhing and crying and cursing him for having "made a pact with Satan". He convinced himself that all this harm was their doing. He originally wanted the explosion to be small enough so it'd look like only he had died but their hostility and unbridled hatred made him crank up the explosion to 11, rather than the 2 he had planned. He wanted to leave them in a definitive and entertaining way as a way of not only letting them and the past go but to give them something memorable. "Remember when that fucker died?" "That was quite an exit." they would say, or so he th-

"Yargghhgh!!" A cry of pain laced with agony and rage. There was a sword sticking out of the bear's stomach.
"I got 'im! I got the hell spawn!" A weak cry of triumph.

The deranged cat had survived... mostly. He had been at the very front of the explosion and caught most of it. His amber eye now reddened with blood. The explosion had claimed a good chunk of his face leaving a war zone of cuts and gashes that no amount of stitches could put together.

The bear couldn't believe this. They weren't content with letting him die a false death. Nor were they able to get the message that he was indeed a dangerous individual. They wouldn't respect him in life or death.

He could not let this stand.

The bear placed a firm grip on the sword and pulled it out, letting out a terrifying roar of anger and pain. He took the blade in his paws and before the cat's eyes, tore it to pieces. He took the cat by the neck and squeezed as hard as he could, the cat turning all sorts of colors and spewing blood and spit and swear words like a broken fountain. When he heard the faintness of a crack beginning, he dropped him to the ground and stood above him returning the very same look of hatred the cat had given earlier.

"I beg of you, kill me." the cat wheezed, looking fearfully up at the furry killing machine. That anger from earlier had evaporated into something resembling a hesitant plea for mercy: the sweet release of death.

"I should tear you limb from limb with my claws. I can do that you know. You saw what I just did."

"Please... finish me."

"No. You're going to go back to them and tell them to leave me alone. I just want to be left alone, I want to harm nobody in any way anymore." the bear was trying to be as calm as possible.

"Kill me, please." the cat continued. He was too weak to do it himself, he needed the bear to do it.

"Don't be self-" the bear wobbled; the stab was finally getting to him. "Do you see what you did?" The bear picked up the cat once more. "I want to be left alone." and he flung him to the mob.

"Get him." the cat begged as he hit the ground, feebly pointing at the trees. The mob did not hesitate, despite the injuries and deaths. They charged, in varying speeds. The bear responded in kind.

"Why couldn't you bastards get it through your heads that I wanted to be left alone?!"

A massive paw broke a beak with tremendous fury. Said claw proceeded to rain down upon the beak's face, each time splattering blood and swears. As this went on, others gathered whatever energy they could and came to his rescue, hoping that strength in numbers would overpower one pissed off savage bear. It wasn't. The cavalry was crushed. The same paw that had flattened a beak now rained upon a shell. Each thud and boom inching closer and closer towards a great cracking sound which spelled death. The shell was on its back, unable to move or defend. The only thing it could do was pray and hope for the paws broke before the shell, or that death would be as swift as possible. The tatters of the cavalry gained a second wind and this time, almost toppling the bear over. They succeeded in keeping him in a semi-permament state of wobbling, but only truly pissing him off even further. A set of sharp teeth, belonging to a meek tiger, tasted the bitter wine-flavored hide of the bear, releasing not only cries of pain but blood. Each bite subdued and enraged the bear as another beak drilled into his hind legs, hoping against all hope that he could finally knock him down and bring his end closer and closer.

Surprisingly, and stupidly, nobody went for the stab the cat had made earlier.

The bear didn't actually want to kill anyone anymore but he knew he had to defend himself. He reasoned with himself that "the explosion was what they wanted! They brought it upon themselves!" He reassured himself so he wouldn't have to think about the 15 or so deaths and hundreds of lacerations. Was it really their fault? That particular moment: yes. The events leading to that particular moment: perhaps. Perhaps the populace acted out of fear and greed: a perfect opportunity to finally get rid of the scum that had threatened their comfort for so long was gone but he'd eventually return. He really had no intention or returning, not for a very long time anyway. That bottle was sort of a liberating experience, for everyone. They didn't have to put up with him, and he didn't have to see anyone but himself.

He was not falling down. Instead he was working on shattering another set of bones and giving out samples of his bitter flesh. And- KRAKOOM!! SPLFFTSHT!! "Yarrrgh!!!" another cry of agonizing pain. A heavy thud following by a cracking whimpering growl. More snarling as he realized he had been shot. He stood only to collapse with another deafening thud followed by a great torrent of pained wincing and groaning, not just his but those who had just been beaten within an inch of their lives.

"Oh, god, what have I done?" cried the weeping crane. She had betrayed her friend.
"You pulled the trigger, now I'm going to finish the job." said the fox.
Normally, the crane would have protested but she was stunned by the fact that she had actually shot him. She promised she'd do anything but she never thought she'd have to pull a trigger to prove it.

The fox sauntered over to the bear, stepping over and around corpses and wounded warriors. From his pockets, he produced a set of prosthetic razor sharp fangs and put them in his mouth. The glare of the teeth was sinister enough to make even the corpses shudder.

"It ends now." he said, with a mouthful of metal. As he proceed to kneel down to bite down on the bear's jugular, two claws came together and gripped his head with a powerful grip.
"You shot me." he whimpered. "Why?" he added, squeezing with more pressure.
The fox could only whimper and howl and make noises, unable to respond to his questions.
"Answer me or I swear by god I'll be able to touch your thoughts!"
Before the fox could answer, the iron grip was broken as the bear fell down again. He had been shot again, this time in the stomach, not the shoulder. And from close range. He collapsed onto his back and wheezed.
He felt his vision fade in and out but stayed conscious enough to apply pressure to his wound and see a crying crane walk towards him and kneel at his side. He had to turn away because he couldn't handle it. But when he did, he saw the fox, holding his head and snarling. She knew the bear was doomed but she couldn't collect herself enough to do anything.

Nobody stood up, they all lay still on the ground. Shards of glasses having torn many apart, opened many. There was a sea of corpses and seriously injured creatures.

And the fox towered above the wounded bear who lay sobbing blood and tears, trembling.