Sphinx Campfire, Late, Late, Wed Night

Billy stashed his gun and sword in his bunk, then came back outside. He stood for a moment, trying to get his breath. I'll put them back in the weapons locker first thing tomorrow. he thought. No way I'm going back through these woods tonight.

"The hell was that?" he muttered. He found two sticks, and used one to poke the fire embers back to life, and built up the fire again. The other he kept close by, just in case.

After a bit he sat, and examined the slashes in his pant leg, then felt the prosthetic underneath. With a curse he ripped the pant leg off at the slashes and removed the leg, holding it close to the fire to confirm his suspicions.

Whoever it was he'd met in the woods had left his mark on Billy's fake leg, wherever the machete had connected, the metal was scratched. And this thing hadn't even been dented by a gunshot.

"Jesus Christ what was that?"

ooc: open to any night owls. Billy's not goin' to sleep anytime soon.