'Stupid Aeg, tellin' meh stupid shit dat dun' matter... "Nope can't make nuttin' wit dis, why ain't yeh go bother sum'n else, want some soup..."' He kept his eyes on the sand around his feet as he walked, stomping around, barefoot and angry. How long had he been up there trying to squeeze information out of the man, and how much time had he been searching the sands? Suddenly, however, he stopped. There was something wrong about the sand at his feet. He blinked a few times, having trouble connecting the mental dots. He was looking at a footprint that wasn't his, and one that was oddly familiar. He stared at it as if it were that man that had recently tried to rob him and earned a face full of spikes.
As the gears in his deranged mind began to turn and click, he suddenly felt anger well up within his chest, beginning to burst forth slowly as the fire hole in Fort Stygian had long ago. Indeed, Malice was almost always angry, but when it came to footwear, there was something quite wrong with him indeed. His conscious thoughts ceased, and he was suddenly sprinting along the trail of prints, stopping in front of the Mesa. He looked up, towards the Southwest, where he had been staying recently, his mind perplexed. How could it have been so close this whole time?
He heard movement within the small cave, and light shone down from a hole high above, illuminating the back of what appeared to be a man. Or maybe it was an ugly woman, that part didn't matter. Malice's eyes slowly trailed down the person's form, and rested upon their boots. Boots that were not theirs at all... They were his.
His hand tightened around the Kidney Burster in his hand and walked into the cave, his feet moving quickly and with purpose. The person turned from the water within and set their eyes upon him, a look of horror spread across their face. 'Oh, fuck,' said the man as he began to reach for a scavenged rifle.
Malice kept stepping forward, his shoulders moving heavily with each heaving breath he took. At last, his search was over. 'You took mah boots, 'n yeh took meh face - Now I'ma take yer life,' he said in a low, deep growl, his years of pent up rage coming to the surface after so long of being displaced. The man raised the rifle, but before he could aim it, Malice threw his Kidney Burster violently at the man and began to charge, bellowing at the top of his lungs. The sound that came from was a mixture of frustration, unadulterated hatred, and victory, something not unlike what one hears from time to time as a sandhippo gores a foolish hunter.
The man raised the rifle across his body to protect himself from the flying morningstar, and was rewarded with splinters in the face, and the ruin of his firearm. Before he had time to feel relief, however, Malice was on top of him, thick leather fistwraps around his knuckles. He used the momentum of the charge to throw what was possibly the most violent punch he had ever thrown, life and unlife alike. As it connected, the force of the blow jarred the ghoul's entire body, causing him to stumble for a half second. The momentum carried him into the man, and they both went to ground, but the smoothskin was having trouble realizing what was happening it seemed, between the sprinting fist to his face, and the hard stone floor of the cave.
Malice placed one knee on the man's shoulder, and moved his left foot up beside his head, trying to get into a better position for a second. Right as the man began to recover, the ghoul grabbed the back of his head, and brought his face up to meet his left fist again, sending the back of his skull crashing into the stone once more. As the man connected with first the fist wrap, then the rock beneath, blood began to pour. Seeing the crimson life flowing from the man, Malice began to cackle maniacally. His victory was at hand.
There was no form about what was happening within, only laughter, choking, and a sickening series of thuds, followed by an occasional crack. The man had stopped after the fourth blow, but Malice didn't care, and he might not have noticed. His laughter exploded from the cave, high pitched and quite insane, as his fists pistoned into the ruin of the man's face. After what felt like an eternity of blows, he stood, and moved for his Kidney Burster. He pulled it from the bent and splintered rifle, not seeming to care that he had just destroyed a firearm. 'Say goodnight, motherfucker!' he screamed at the corpse, as if he thought it were still alive somehow.
He gripped his Kidney Burster with both hands, raised it over his head, then brought it down once, violently, upon the remnants of the man's head, effectively sending them into different corners of the small cave. He stood over the mutilated corpse for a full minute, his chest rising and falling quickly, and a smile spreading behind his masked face. After he were done relishing his victory, he pulled the boots from the corpse, set them aside, then dipped his fingers into the open neck of the victim.
He had once been able to read, but his eyes had long since began to fail him, so what he wrote on the wall was hardly legible, but indeed words. Malice was Here, followed by an arrow that pointed to the splatter on the ground where the head had been smashed like a watermelon falling from a rooftop. He then dragged the corpse outside, leaving a sickening trail of blood out of the cave as he did so. Once he had reached the opening, he sat the corpse beside the entrance of the cave, then turned to retrieve the rifle, and set it atop the corpse. He didn't use guns anyhow.
He returned to the cave, and stuck his head into the pool of water, drinking heavily for a few moments before sitting down beside his trusty Kidney Burster, and smiling broadly. He pulled the boots upon his feet, chuckling to himself. 'Told yeh I'd git yeh, motherfuckin' thief.'