From the fucking get-go, a handful of quadruped humanoids made their way to the central play area, but since every participant was in a moon-shaped formation, they almost got to the center before they clashed claws and swords with the one in front of them.
The first feral just dove in with both jagged claws in front before someone from the Alvarez Family cleaved the top of its head off with a wide swing of his blade. He quickly took the first kill of this game but that was barely a dent to the total they were supposed to bring down to zero.
With that said, everyone received their first foe like it was nothing and it looked like most of them had already faced the same specials we encounter day-to-day.
'It kinda makes sense because their main HQ is scattered around... not all of them are living near Mr. Cuervo's territory...'
At this moment, a majority of the ferals were in front—followed by a handful of sprinters—and the boundary between the dead and the living was slowly getting established.
There was a line of blood, guts, and corpses marking each side's territory but it was increasing and decreasing at an unsteady pace.
Mr. Cuervo and his girls were still at the back but my team was just about to receive their first serving. They were situated a bit to the back—the third row if I had to visualize a seating arrangement—and the first two rows in front of them were still chewing their food.
Five to seven ferals broke through the ones in front as they went for Mikhail and Nikolas, and it felt like everyone was looking to see what was so special about Mikhail's axe.
I wanted to fucking say that it was just too big to be called an axe. Too big, too thick, and too rough. More like a huge chunk of iron but it wasn't. It was made for the sole purpose of cleaving deadheads in half—whatever type they may be—and like the blade in my hip, the weapon suited the wielder.
Mikhail just swung in angle before his axe went through the underside of a feral's forearm as it continued to cleave straight to its chest and shoulders, lopping the upper half of its torso off with its head and then swinging down with an abrupt flourish, crushing its skull to pieces and killing the one behind it that wasn't even involved.
The first encounter was over in a few seconds though Nikolas killed a couple more than his brother.
Nikolas' movements weren't as flashy or eye-catching but they were textbook and efficient.
The moment the crooked feral lunged at him, he just half-stepped to the side, sinking his knife to its left earlobe before pushing it forward and using it as a shield as he swung down with his machete. The other feral behind it was a couple of inches short of scratching Nikolas' arms but his machete had enough reach to chop off part of its skull.
With that said, Nikolas made use of the small funnel—the space each participant made with each other—to properly position himself between the dead and the living, and he just easily took another couple down as Mikhail was just on his third execution.
A select group would be the vanguard while the ones in the back would be the backup or the ones in charge of dragging the cleared bodies further back, stacking them on top of each other so we'd have a lot of space to move or run to.
Slowly but surely, everyone came to the realization that space to move around was also vital to survival, and the ones from the Rivas and Garcia Families—some from the Cuervo Family—decided to join my team's formation.
The onslaught of ferals and sprinters became child's play for a group of individuals that survived a better part of the year with these abominations but the same couldn't be said from the other side.
The pairs from the Alvarez and the Castillo Family—and the other half from the Cuervo Family—just took on the horde dead-on, without using simple tactics to make their life easier.
I couldn't say that they were faring worse because everyone from the viewing platforms were loving their display so much more.
Their battlefield was fucking chaos but it was being controlled in a way—a brute and garish way—and it was somehow working to a degree. Their side had no leadership, tactics, or even direction but they were surviving in a way that was so fucking simple, anyone could fucking do it.
It was just straight violence. Extreme and direct violence.
Each and every one of them just picked a target and took it down as fast as they could—in a brutal fashion—before doing the same thing to the next thing they laid their eyes on.
The first guy I saw from the Alvarez Family was barely recognizable due to the 'Carrie' skin he had going on and his partner was almost the exact same copy. Probably the handle of their weapons retained the original color scheme because they looked worse compared to when I was done taking down my own thousand.
With that said, the pairs from the Castillo and the other half of the Cuervo Family were doing the same thing as they both piled bodies on top of one another.
I didn't even notice that Benjamin was present and he had a pile only by using a dagger in one hand. However, he just looked bored while taking down deadhead after deadhead, the complete opposite of what he was like when he was right on my face. Well, his fucked up eye was still giving off murderous vibes but his movements in this game in a word was 'contained'.
He was weaving in and out of encounters like he had no presence but I had no idea where his partner was.
They could've died already or were forced to stay back to keep themselves alive because if he somehow DQ'd Benjamin, he'd have already signed his death warrant.
With that said, the game continued on but their messy way of doing things might've just caused them for the second wave that was coming.