Bandit Pulp

His fists pummelled the bandit until there was no bandit left to pummel. Brick roared his victory to the wasteland of corpses he had left behind him. There was an edge of laughter to the roar, almost manic, but he didn't care.

After what had happened to his puppy, the bandits deserved everything he sent their way; he was going to enjoy every minute of their pain and suffering that he could.

His fists purred their agreement. They thrummed pleasantly, warmly, and ached to do more. More bandits! More kills!

Brick grinned, and a glint in his eye, he pounded his fists together. Soon, he would meet more bandits on his journey. And soon, those same bandits would meet his fists. His fists looked forward to meeting them.

fin.