PREFACE: This is the Discord where these contests take place weekly: https://discord.gg/gdT896j
Once they had extracted the cyanide pill from the spy's tooth, getting him to speak was easier than hand-to-hand with a straw man. Wicker, the man with the golden tooth, extracted the information neatly and without (much) blood.
“Lt. Kester- he's got a new weapon from the HQ...blows all of you to smithereens!” The man proceeded to laugh manically, and Wicker, deciding that the man told the truth, shot him square in the forehead. Pally was glad, he couldn't stand the man's voice.
They discussed what to do over a can of rations and light piano music. “What do you suppose we do about the weapon?”,“I suppose we move base again. No point fighting them with just six guys.”, and so the plan was simply set in motion. Pally and Lancer would pack up and move, Wicker and Terrance would scout the new place, and Luis and the General would provide cover.
They moved under the guise of night. Spotlights shone down like heavy rain, but the clothes layered over the barracks made it easier to hide from them. Lancer carried the forcefield, and Pally everything else. The new spot they found was comfy but noticeably smaller than their previous place. The first thing the General did was command that Pally put up their flag. It was a wonderful flag, in Pally's opinion. They had come up with the idea themselves. The battered tarp they used was half dyed green, and the top half was a bleached white. In the middle, a patch made by their late friend Yonket sat in the middle. The patch detailed a great creature, Yonket's vision of the behemoth. Pally's hands couldn't flip the pages of the Bible anymore, but he remembered when Yonket would read to them.
They lasted in that place for a week before Kester sent a patrol to their doorstep. The fight was difficult, and Terrance died. It was inevitable, Pally decided. Terrance wasn't adapting like the rest of them. He was still mostly human. They feasted on two cans of rations that night in remembrance, and Luis sang. His voice contrasted his thick, grey skin, a beautiful tenor from a rhino-like man.
Their plan to escape this new hideout was cut off by Kester's new weapon. It was a tank of sorts, and its shots decimated Lancer and the General before they even knew they were in danger. Wicker was sullen and as silent as ever as they abandoned everything except their flag and food. The forcefield was destroyed by this powerful weapon. Luis raved on about how this was the end, and Pally vainly tried to block out Luis' whining tone. The next morning, Pally found Luis had fled. Dead or alive, Pally wasn't in the mood to search for him. Wicker was tongueless and much more bearable anyways. They continued on for days in silence. Pally had dreams every night, usually of his comrades.
It was a hot summer day when they were met with the end of the world. A huge crevice spanned before them, black and burnt. There might've been another side, but Pally wasn't in the mood to try and find it, so they waited for surrender. When Kester did finally catch up, Wicker took himself out with the pill hidden in his gold tooth. Pally, utterly alone, was taken prisoner. They continued to give him shots, and he found his strength depleting and his form returning partially to what it had been before. Soon they moved him from a special prison to a steel cage. He didn't have the strength to escape anymore.
Eventually they wheeled him towards his execution. They were going to take out his brain, study him, he knew. Strapped to a cart, they took him down that all-too-familiar hall, and his eyes caught something that infuriated him. The bastards, they've made a new me. He thought, looking at his human likeness reborn in a tube.
“Alright,” said the doctor after they'd strapped him to a table, “Let's see why Pally number 30 failed.” The scalpel to his head was all Pally saw before he fainted to an endless sleep.