Dead Man's View ~ 6

     DM lost count long ago how many people he has fought during his 'life'.  However, he has mostly only fought against humans and the shadow creatures that were outside his house.
     Merihem was nothing like either.
     Every step that DM took to swing his axe hammer, Merihem would copy with his spear, until DM would almost contact, then Merihem would dodge and strike out to DM who would use the handle to block and counter back.  This went on for at least four times, each move happening quicker and quicker.
     If DM had the lip power, he would be scowling.
     Even though DM had no muscles anymore, his complicated use of wires, compressors, and pumps had made him exceptionally strong.  In fact, he mostly had limits place on his mind and body to make sure he doesn't use too much and burn out any parts while fighting.  It was like shifting into gears, having to start slow a bit before going into full power.  Without organs, he could never tire as long as he had a power source running from his drinks, while humans tire after heavy blows and become slower.  Merihem, however, didn't slow down.  He didn't speed up either though, which DM was doing, but that was very... odd.
     But is that so different from me?  Thought DM.
     Reach and strength were now taken care of, but now the main problem is time.  How long had it been since DM took a drink?  How much power does he have left and does he have enough to attack or just enough to defend?  These are all thoughts that would usually go through DM's mind.
     But DM's deep thoughts where unfortunately on something else.
     I need a drink.  Thought DM.
     Addiction is a strange thing to a smart person.  A smart person knows when they are addicted to something pretty quickly, and if it harms the person to a point, will try to get away from the addiction as fast as possible.  However with time, boredom, or just with nothing to fear, going back to that addiction is the easiest thing to do.  When DM became as he is now, the most basic desire he has had is thirst.  Even without flesh, throat, or taste, his thirst was so strong it distracted him from most thoughts.  It didn't need to be alcoholic, although it helped to keep the insides of the power wheel clean, but even with water (which was rare in the Shadowlands) he still imagined a strong taste like alcohol. 
     I need a drink, right now.
     "What's wrong?"  Yelled the girl, awakening DM from his thoughts.
     DM didn't want to get the girl involved, but he didn't have much choice with his hands full with Merihem. 
     "I need fuel."
     "What?  Like oil or something?"
     "A drink!  I need a drink!"
     "What kind and where?"
     "Just find me an empty bottle.  I have plenty around."
     "I didn't notice."  DM thought she said this sarcastically, which probably meant she had gone past the hallways of his house that was covered with empty bottles.  Or his rooms.  Or his yard...
     The girl looked around for a bit while DM defended against Merihem's attacks until she came across another glass bottle that was intact.  "I found one!"
     "Here!"  DM shouted, and she threw the bottle.

To be continued in part 7.

Just keeps going and going...