# The Nuggie Story

Title: The Nuggie Story
Status: Complete
Characters: Anon, Fang
Rating: SFW
Classification: One Shot
Author: Doorstop
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Night, black night, dense forest all around me.
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This is all I could see for an eternity. Despite being a short hike away from town, it had felt like I had been cut from civilization, the burning heart that I had been born and raised with for over decades, extinguished by the spirits of the forest at night, turning what is usually a scenic passage into what could only be described as a dark hell, only illuminated by the light of a waning crescent. But I cannot blame anything but my own hubris.
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I had grown complacent. Content with the fact that my hunting days were over, I took to a life of lethargy and vice. Of course people looked up to me for guidance and training, but I myself had not hunted in years, slowly losing my skill over time. It was why I hadn't expected that day's hunting party to arrive scarred and broken, half the men had died and those that were left had horrible scratchings. The foul beasts sometimes got a wound in or two, but to be able to take down an entire hunting party? Something had changed in these woods, and with me being the only available hunter, I was relegated with the task of the daily hunt. Were I to fail, the town's finances would collapse, and soon it would become nothing more than the desolate forest that surrounded it. My rusty skills also resulted in my tardiness. Usually we hunt at the break of dawn, when the beasts are at their weakest. But it seems they were expecting us, and it led to the deaths of those I grew up with, those I both trained with and trained myself, those who I hold dearly in my heart. I am forced to hunt at night, when they possibly wont be expecting a change in schedule. I entered the forest with my hunting clothing, my sword, my pack filled with necessities, and determination to avenge the fallen. The hunting code forbids us to use firearms and other loud weaponry, as this has been shown to affect the habitats of the beasts. And were they to leave these grounds, regardless if I made it back alive, the town would slowly but surely fall without the support of the meat business.
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I continue through the nightmarish woods, doing my usual routine of tracking, hiking, and keeping alert. It had been hours, I fear that the creatures may not even be here at all, did their behavior change so much that they left us?
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That was when I noticed it.
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A broken branch, a red flag the color of neon, entered my vison, and suddenly it all became clear. My senses fired, through the thick shadows I saw five figures surrounding me. They had not left me, in fact they were probably with me since the beginning, waiting, until I had lowered my guard, and then they would have ambushed me and most likely killed me. But I'm not ready to die, not without a fight. Sensing my heightened state of awareness, they ditched the stealth tactic, and came out of the trees, and into the moonlight of the falling moon.
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Cockatrices, called chickens by those who have never dealt with one. It's said their gaze alone is enough to kill a man. this is inaccurate, If a cockatrice has laid eyes on you, you will die, just not from their eyes, but rather from their sharp claws instead. The most vital strategy to fighting these horrid crimes against raptor jesus is to keep a count of how many there are, lose track of one, and the next thing you will see are the pearly gates of heaven.
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And speaking about how many there are, it's a strange sight to see five in a single pack, most consist of one to two, and even then it usually takes a full party to track them down and fight them. Fighting against five was unnatural and a death sentence, is this what killed his fellow brave men?
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They approached, their wings by their side, feathers so soft that muffle most sounds they make, and yet scales so hard that you must be careful where you swing your sword, otherwise you risk breaking it, and you will be left defenseless.
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As they came ever so closer, I brought out a rod from my bag and pulled the cord.
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In a blaze of red light, the monsters retreated quickly, hissing at the unexpected burst of light that the flare had produced, and retreating from the shadows. But it was too late, the burning light had revealed their faces and locations. And now I had all that I needed to take this threat head on. I readied my sword and waited. These were no ordinary flares, they were short, designed to fight the average cockatrice, it dies out quick to allow them to rush towards the hunting party, and with a flurry of swords it can easily take down a single beast. But now the odds were flipped, and now I had to focus all my strength to make up for the lack of a party against insurmountable odds.
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As the fire dies down, one of the monsters rushes towards me, and I quickly decapitate him with a single swing of my blade. The others rile up, angry that one of their own have fallen. I regain my composure, There are four left. I have the courage, I keep telling myself. I have the strength to overcome this hurdle. I thank nature that they rush alone, so accustomed to hunting alone that they have little cohesion together. Remember, there are four left.
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I light another flare, and note the positions where they are. As the flame dies down yet again, another rushes me, I swing my sword, and it hits the hard scales and bounces off. the foul creature backs down, but both he and I know that he was mere centimeters away from putting a gash in my shoulder, so he tries once more and this time I adjust my swing angle, and successfully slash his throat open, spewing some blood over me. It disorients me, but I manage to wipe it off. I regain my composure once more, I see two figures in the shadows. There are two left. As I ready my sword my senses all fire and just in time I manage to barely avoid the direct hit to my neck from behind me. However my failure to stay alert has cost ma a deep scratch in my right shoulder. It hurts like hell and it will certainly stay there until my death, but at least my departure from this world is postponed a small while longer.
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The dastardly devil turns his head around and rushes me once again, but he falls right for my trap and I manage to impale him, killing him instantly. I ready myself once more after wiping off my bloodstained sword and lighting yet another fire. Now I confirm there are two left, their shadows looking like reapers of death, seeking nothing more than my demise. They encircle me like a rat in a cage, like lions, hungry for the kill. Until suddenly one leaps forward, clashing it's claws against my sword. Swipe after swipe, it etches its markings into my blade and somehow none reach me. Only when a brief pause in it's barrage opens can I take the initiative to stab it directly into the beating heart that powers the horrible machination. And it falls to the ground.
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I look around, the wound from earlier still giving me large amounts of pain. I see nothing, no silhouettes, no shadows, nothing. The last cockatrice must have run away, knowing its doom would have occurred had it approached me.
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And that's when it hit me, literally.
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A sharp pain coursing through my back, my feeble armor doing nothing to stop it. I swing around with my sword and only manage to get it off me. It stares at me, clutching a piece of my now torn and bloodied skin, and munching on it as if it were a pastry. I yell in anger, and charge towards it. It accepts my challenge and we collide, his claw on my leg, and my sword in his eye.
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The fighting stops. The calm I feel after is almost enough to drown out the pain I feel from having my back torn off. I collapse to the floor, and before I pass out, I manage take out an emergency flare gun and shoot it directly into the sky. It's not recommended, but at this point I had no choice. I was probably not gonna make it, and the least I could do is make sure this fine meat gets to the butchery to sustain the town. In the end, I believed it was worth it. And so I close my eyes, hoping the town and my friends would live a better and longer life than I had.
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The microwave beeps, and out come her nuggies
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"That's bullshit," says Fang. "There's no way they would go through all that trouble just to get some meat from a chicken"
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"It's true," replies Anon. "The guy himself spoke at a TERO talk, as authentic as can be"
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Fang munches on a stegosaurus shaped meat nugget.
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"Still seems pretty unrealistic to me" she says with her mouth full, "seems like a kid's tale designed to spook 'em"
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"Have YOU seen a chicken, fang?" Anon inquired.
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Fang pauses chewing through her tasty triceratops.
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"Good point"
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"Besides, those things aren't probably the real thing, you know how companies will call it one thing and just stuff something cheaper in there."
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"Anon!" The ptero now looked offended. "Are you saying I wouldn't know what chicken tastes like?!?"
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"Who knows, have you checked the ingredients list?"
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Fang paused for a moment, and then proceeded to open the freezer to pull out a box of the dino nuggies she loves so dearly, looking at the box she saw all sorts of ingredients that she had never heard of before and were too complicated to pronounce. But she had managed to notice the absence one thing.
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"I guess you're right, Anon." She sighed in a disappointed tone. "There really is no chicken in here"
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"Told ya so," he snarked back. "Now contemplate your life choices while I raid the fridge"
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Hunched back, Anon dug for his favorite foods, which are a mystery to everyone but anon, as they seem to change every week or so.
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Determined to understand what she had been eating for the past 18 years, Fang decided to ask anon about the ingredients that really DID make up her beloved food.
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"Anon?"
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"Yeah?"
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"Do you know what Soylent Green is?"