Stories set in enderplane
Borrowed Time - Cameron Rooke's account of living in the city of Metidoris, capital of Bimrid as a human (homo sapiens) & fairy (homo volitilis) hybrid child.
Killer's Diary - The journal of a jackolyn by the name of Dock, documenting his experience meeting a human hybrid by the name of Cameron Rooke.
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Superstition
Short By; Max B. "Void"
Location; Renile
I never really learned how to swim.Sure, I can stay afloat enough not to immediately die. But if you just dumped me into the deep end, I think I’d sink straight to the bottom. I can’t even keep my eyes open.I don’t blame people who laugh. It’s embarrassing.So… I really couldn’t tell you why I’m so fascinated with the ocean.Yes, this is relevant to the day I met the Devil, I’m getting there. … at least I think that’s who it was… it’s complicated… No, I’m not making it up, just listen for a second please.Anyway… the ocean…Something about watching the waves slowly roll in from the infinite horizon, and splash gently into the shore. The strong smell of salt. The way the sky melts into the water, and makes it look like a drop off into the void.There’s something holy here, something serene. I think it’s why I come here to pray.It’s as if my soul will be cleansed of filth by the grace of the tide. Washing away everything that’s wrong with me, and leaving me born anew when the sun rises again in the morning.I’ve stopped expecting an answer to my nightly prayers, it’s really just venting. I know that someone is listening, I feel it. But they never seem to respond. I guess my problems aren’t as important as the people’s who’ve seen angels in person.They say that God makes no mistakes, but I feel rotten. I feel wrong on the inside. I try to hope for miracles, but I think whoever it is that’s listening has given up on me.I’m too… I don’t know what I am, in truth. Only, nobody seems to like it.I stare out into the water, the sunset staining the sea a sort of pinkish highlight, as the sky slowly goes dark. I contemplate in silence as I stand at the shore.What if I were to just walk?Walk out, deeper, deeper, until what’s left of my head sinks into the endlessness. Let the water take me away.Would I be reborn? Become what people want of me? Would I be cured of this rottenness? Or, would I just disappear? Be consumed by it and fade away.Both options sound better than standing here and whining…But, fate has the sickest sense of humor.As if it were the very nanosecond before my neurons could fire, and make my body take a step forwards, I hear a voice behind me speak. A man’s voice, presumably. Incredibly deep and impossibly silky. So calm, yet so very firm. It makes my chest vibrate. The voice says…“Waiting for something?”I snap my head around. Was I so deep in thought that I didn’t hear him approach? Truthfully, I wasn’t expecting anyone else to be here. No one ever is. Though, I do have a habit of losing myself. The man seems to notice that his sudden presence has startled me, and chuckles softly to himself. My reaction is presumably amusing.The first thing I just cannot ignore is how massive this strange figure is. He towered over me, must be at least 7 feet tall, possibly more, it’s hard to say. He was also an incredibly strong looking person. If he wanted, he could likely break me in two as if I were made of wood. I’m not a largely built man, so, I think that many people could in truth. But you probably understand what I mean.He wore a traditional suit and tie, with a blood red rose in the front pocket of his black jacket. Odd choice of dress for the place, and the time. You don’t really see that sort of thing much anymore, especially not casually. The decision to dress in such a way for a trip to the beach is incredibly bizarre.I don’t yet look up to his face, because around now, I come to notice that there’s no footprints in the sand leading up to where he stands next to me. It’s as if he’d just appeared there…I must’ve been standing in silence for too long, because he asks his question to me again, in that deep, smooth voice that sends a shock through me. His mere presence alone is frighteningly imposing. There’s an air of importance and danger about him that gives way to a sort of primordial chill. Some instinct deep inside of me with a name that I cannot place, telling me to not look away.“I said, are you waiting for something?”The way he stands, awaiting my response, is unusual. Inhumanly still. Not a subtle sway, or flinch, or tic. The sort of casual unconscious mannerisms you don’t notice in a person until they’re strangely absent. I’m not even sure that he was breathing. He was just there. Still. Solid. Attention focused entirely on me. Waiting so patiently, as if, were he to require it, he would just stand there for hours. Such behavior makes you question if he’s even living.Something about this man is deeply wrong. But, I still answer. It’d be rude of me not to.“You could say that, I suppose…” I turn back towards the water for just a moment, remembering my prior thought.That answer seems to intrigue the man, as the slight smile that was spread across his face widens, into a more pronounced grin. His teeth are razor sharp. And his ears are longer than average, I notice, pointed outwards and slightly downturned, almost animal-like. Whatever he is, it’s definitely not human.I try to look into his eyes. But I can’t. Something about trying makes my head spin. I’m able to catch a flash of blue before my eyes dart back down uncontrollably. The deepest and brightest shade of blue I’d ever seen. It’s enough to make me sick.“Ah. Well, it sounds like whatever it is you’re here for may take quite a while. I’ll gladly keep you company, if you wouldn’t mind my presence.”What on earth am I supposed to say to that? As polite as he may appear, there’s something very clearly wrong going on with this man. Am I supposed to just trust him? And if I don’t, what then? We’re completely alone out here, there would be no witnesses, if…I decided to take my chances, and return his politeness. I don’t want to be on this creature’s bad side, if he has one.“Sure… that’s fine…”“Splendid.”He proceeds to take a couple steps forwards, and stands beside me right by the shore, looking out to the evening horizon as it slowly turns red.I turn back around and continue to stare at the water. Partially to continue my contemplation, but mostly just to avoid looking at him. His unnerving presence only continues to grow stronger the closer he stands to me.Even though his gaze is forward, I can’t shake the feeling that he’s still intently watching me. As if he has a sense of vision all around, even if his eyes are focused elsewhere. Like a vague semblance of omniscience.“It would be quite a shame to forfeit your life, you know. Consciousness is a rare and precious thing in this universe. Such a waste it would be, to give up an opportunity like this. A mind like yours.”I tense up immediately, fighting the urge to snap my head around and face him, knowing the headache it would bring. But my eyes still grow wide.He continues, after a brief pause. Almost as if to allow me time to process what he’s told me, before he goes back to speaking. A strangely thought out courtesy.“Drowning wouldn’t be preferred, either way. The human body has too many unconscious methods against inhaling water purposefully, and its buoyancy in salt water would make attempting to sink rather tedious. It would also be quite a horrible death as well, should you manage it. I doubt you want to suffer as you die”He straightens out his tie“Also, a minor note, if I recall correctly, I believe that according to your faith suicide is a sin.”His words leave me petrified. Why would he say that to me? How could he have possibly known? Known, what sort of unpleasant thoughts had crossed me mere minutes before his arrival. I hadn’t yet spoken a full word to the man. I hadn’t spoken of such things to anyone. Not a soul.The strange apparition chuckles softly, seemingly aware of my surprise. I keep my eyes firm on the horizon, but I can practically feel the wide, razor smile, slowly creeping across his face as he laughs.I try to force a word out in response, but there’s so, so many things rushing through my head at the moment. Any semblance of a coherent thought becomes nothing but a loud disorienting ring.All I can make out is the smallest noise, resembling a soft “Huh?…”The man responds, with that voice of his. Low, with a certain softness in it that’s almost gentle-like. As if to be reassuring.“I’m quite knowledgeable about many, many things. More than you know. Do not worry. This will stay between us, if you wish. You have my word.”I can hear my heart beating deep in my ears, my chest now feeling strained from how my breath has suddenly grown heavy. It’s not quite fear that I’m feeling, but it’s something quite similar. I feel… exposed. As if my very soul is on display. It’s uncomfortable.He places his large hand on my shoulder, firmly, yet not painfully. He brushes his finger gently on my neck, as if examining me. Tracing my veins, feeling my pulse. The sensation mixed with nervousness causes a shiver to shoot up my body, making my jaw clench with an audible clack of teeth. My thoughts reel back from comprehensibility into ringing tinnitus“You appear tense.”Am I? Can’t imagine why…It takes me a moment, more than a moment, but I’m finally able to sputter out something cohesive. The words in my throat sounded more akin to a choke or a spit, but at least they were words. I don’t think anything has ever taken me so much mental courage than forcing out that simple sentence.“How did you know that?…”“Know what exactly, ———? Your thoughts of self-termination? Fueled by your feelings of inadequacy and otherment. Such feelings were instilled in you due to ostracization from your peers, correct?”At this, I inhale sharp, enough to induce a slight cough. As I lurch forward slightly from it, the man’s hand on my shoulder keeps me steady. His grip is still firm, a vague threat of danger in his latent strength. But he does not hurt me. He is incredibly conscious not to.My head turns to him slightly, a faint buzzing in my skull. The words come out breathless and dry.“How. Do you. Know. My. Name.”I hear his voice respond. Only, not in my ears. Not in the air. His throat doesn’t make a sound, not even the faintest of a whisper escaping his mouth. And yet I still hear him speak to me, crystal clearly, in the same manner one silently hears their own words from their mind. His thoughts are in mine, such a deep sense of connection, to a level I’ve never felt. It frightens me.“I know more about you than you could pray to comprehend.”I whisper“… what are you?…”He laughs again. That low, soft chuckle of amusement. As if my fear and confusion is intriguing. A subject of study.“Above all, I am only a man, ———. Nothing more.”“Bullshit.”I immediately regret that remark, I didn’t mean to say it out loud. Though, even if it were only a thought, he would have heard it anyway.My mortification at the involuntary spit of backtalk must’ve been written all over on my face, because his voice goes back to that one of reassurance.“You do not need to fear me. I will not harm you. I am only here to talk.”He turns and begins to walk along the shore, then stopping and looking back to me, extending his hand in invitation, his black wavy hair blowing ever so slightly in the seaside breeze. The one part of him that isn’t frightfully still.I still can’t look him in the eyes. But I know they’re locked onto mine.“Would you take a walk with me? I’d like to speak some more with you, if I may.”There was something very sincere in his offer. His manner of speaking is very polite, in spite of the uncanniness of his appearance and of his aura. As anxious as the man makes me, I do have to appreciate his gentlemanly demeanor.My body tells me again to run, but I have to keep a level head. I wouldn’t wish to offend him, I don’t want to know what would happen if I were to do so. I’m probably already pushing my luck after what I just said.“Ok.”“Excellent. Come, this way.”He waits for me to meet him before he begins walking alongside me. As small of a gesture it is, I appreciate that he tended to walk either next to or behind me, rather than in front, seemingly aware of his own height.“What exactly is it you want? You seem to already know everything about me.”“I’d like to pick at your thoughts. I’ve had my eye on you now for quite a while, and you greatly interest me. People such as yourself are a fascinating study.”I don’t bother to ask what he means by that. It’s probably just another way of him saying I’m a freak, as if I don’t already know that about myself.“And, I believe that I may be able to assist you. If you would appreciate my advice.”I continue walking, glancing over at the man once in a while. I watch the way he moves. His gait is strange, his body doesn’t bob up and down with each stride like how people normally do. Another oddity on a long, long list.It’s likely just due to him being conscious not to outpace my walking speed, but it still adds to his general off-ness, along with his almost unnaturally straight posture, and habit of keeping his hands behind his back. It gives off this sense of importance and authority.I’ll admit to being more than a bit skeptical. Help me? How could he? How could anybody? Years of warnings return to my thoughts, cautionary tales of inhuman deceivers and unholy temptations. One way tickets to hell in a handbasket.I hear that voice in my head again. The sensation is still jarring, I don’t think I’ll ever grow entirely used to it. The knowledge of my everything being so exposed, and this entity peering into the deepest parts of my mind. In truth it’s almost quite mortifying. If I weren’t so afraid it’d be enough to turn my face red, like when my mother used to show people old photos of me.“Your distrust of me is expected, and understandable. However, my intentions are genuine, whether or not you believe in the truth of my statements.”I take a moment to think. His tone is flatly sincere, and his words don’t seem to have any underlying trace of malice. But, I can’t get over this deep uncontrollable feeling of discomfort keeping me on edge. It feels almost as if my soul is trying to get away from his vicinity lest it be torn straight out of me.After a few more minutes of silent contemplating, the man speaks again. The deep smoothness of his voice still evokes a shiver from me. It’s a very peculiar frequency and it vibrates through my head in ways that make me feel… odd.“You’re not a man who speaks much, are you ———?”I force down another sour response to him knowing my name, the fact of him having been watching me for God knows how long still not settling well with my stomach.A frigid wave from the shore splashes against my shoe, causing me to stumble briefly in my stride. Upon noticing this, the man switches places with me.“No, I suppose not…”“Would there happen to be a reason?”“I just don’t have much on my mind…”I hear him softly hum again to himself with that carcharodon smile. I don’t understand what he finds so amusing about seemingly everything I do. I feel like a white mouse in a lab, controlled by the hand of some higher being’s curiosity. An oblivious little pawn in some twisted type mind game. The thought yields to a familiarly acidic taste in my mouth that I force myself to swallow down.“You forget that I can see within your mind, ———. I know that this is not true. You are very strongly opinionated, and yet you do not give a voice to your feelings. Why is that? I greatly value your thoughts, I will not dismiss or ignore you if there is something you wish to tell me. Unlike your peers I do not look down upon you.”I can sense my face slightly contort into a cringe at the reminder of his presence in my brain. Against my better judgements, my response rolls off with a slight twinge of sass.“I don’t believe in altruism. What’s the value that you get out of me?”I can practically feel the grin on his face grow wider, the image of those knife-edge teeth and the latent danger they imply still haunting my memory. He speaks again, in that faintly reassuring tone.“My intentions are not to use you, ———, you are not an object. You do, however, intrigue me.”“And you mean by this… what, exactly?”
“I’ve become quite invested in observing your personal struggle. You are a brilliant man, truly, and incredibly entertaining. I’d say that I have grown quite fond of you. I wish to see you thrive.”He keeps his gaze facing forward as he speaks, but I know that he’s still watching me intently. I can practically feel non-existent eyes on me. He sees everything. Always.It makes me shiver.“What am I to you? Some kind of experiment?”“In a sense, yes. Though, that’s not to imply that I do not respect your autonomy as a human being. I only want to understand you. And aid you, if I may.”“Why on earth would you want to do that?”“A belief in altruism, for one.”I don’t respond, but I continue to turn over his words in my thoughts. I glance over to the man from the corner of my eye, watching as he walks beside me, his large form keeping a distance between myself and the edge of the water, stained an indigo hue as it melts into the twilight.I didn’t even notice that the sun had set, he had kept me so captivated. It must have been at least an hour since our conversation began. Though, I suppose it’s not like I ever have anywhere important to be.It strikes me as incredibly peculiar, though. It doesn’t feel like it’s been an hour. But, the situation I’ve been in is a rather strange one. What’s one more oddity to note…I breathe in deep as I prepare another question“When you say you want to help me, in what way do you mean? To fix me?”The man’s face shifts very subtly from its usual amused grin, that particular question seems to have mildly upset him.“I do not need to “fix” you, ———. There is nothing wrong with you.”“Then what do you want?”“For you to understand and appreciate the value of your life. To stop torturing yourself for the lie others force you to live, and to exist comfortably as you are. I want you to like yourself.”I scoff at this notion a little, as if he’d just told me a joke. But judging by the slight change in his demeanor I can tell that he’s being completely serious. This just confuses me more.He appears to recognize this, and holds a hand out to me.“We can discuss this a bit more comfortably, if you’d like. Though it’s your decision.”I realize around now, that I have the ability to call this interaction off, should I so choose. I can make him go away, and pretend that none of this has ever happened. But… the creeping hands of curiosity had begun to wrap their fingers seductively around my wrist, whispering sweet nothings into my ear.Perhaps I could push my luck just a little bit longer. Just to see where this goes.I step forward and take his hand, which pleases him.“Excellent.”The next thing I know, I’m sitting down. I look about myself, and realize that in the time it took me to blink, we’re now in a completely different place than we were just a second ago.We’re still by the water, but now are seated at a small wooden table, inside of a building. After adjusting to the sudden change in scenery, I recognize where I am. It’s a restaurant that I’ve been to before. They close early on Sunday nights, so there’s nobody else here, and the only light in the room is coming from the window we’re next to.How we arrived here so fast is a mystery to me, but so is literally everything else about this entire situation, so I neglect to mention it.I look down at my hand, the one that had just taken his a moment ago, and I almost think that I see the fleeting glimpse of a small black… something… quickly worm its way under my skin, and deep into my palm. I don’t feel a thing when it happens, so I deduce that it must’ve just been some sort of hallucination. I have to believe that. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be able to fight back my desire to scream.After standing up for so long, being able to sit down is a relief I didn’t realize I needed, but I fight the urge to slouch in my seat. I’m still having a discussion after all.I look up to the man sitting across from me, the red flower in his pocket brightly contrasting against the rest of his dark figure in the moonlight. I notice that he’s holding a small glass in one hand, presumably filled with some sort of alcoholic beverage. I don’t even question where on earth he got it from, I know better.“… so what is it you want to tell me then?…”The figure in front of me leans forward just slightly, to emphasize his words to me better.“You act like I’m here to scold you, I believe you’re greatly misunderstanding my intentions. I wish to have a conversation with you, not simply talk at you. You are a participant in this interaction, you know.”Even though I can’t see his eyes, I know that he’s studying my expression. As I get more used to his mannerisms, it becomes a bit more obvious to me that his intent watching of my every motion isn’t malignance, but rather curiosity. Part of me questions if this is worse or better, either way I brace myself to respond.“Ok then. We are conversing.”He smiles at me with those lunar lit daggers, impossibly white and well kept, sending off a quick remark.“You don’t speak to others much, do you?”He chuckles faintly at his comment as he takes a sip from his drink, before continuing his thought.“As their equal, at least. I’m sure you’ve experienced no shortage of being ordered around and talked down to. That is not what you will experience with me. I am greatly interested in your thoughts, I wish for you to share them. You deserve to.”‘I deserve to.’ What the hell do I deserve? My opinions aren’t worth anything, people have made that abundantly clear to me. What value do I contribute? Apparently none, considering how often I’m spoken over.“You deserve more than you believe, ———.”Right… he’s in my head… for a beautiful moment I almost forgot…“Your peers are incredibly shallow minded. You are very intelligent and creatively talented, they squander their own opportunities for growth by continuing to shut you down. Taking a moment to listen to a unique perspective for once, rather than sitting in an empty room and playing their own words on an endless cycle, believing themselves to be the voice of God, would do them some favors, wouldn’t you think?”I’m left silent for a few seconds as I process what was just said to me. I turn the complement over in my mind, like how one thoughtfully examines a gift that was just handed to them.“I… I guess so?…”He tilts his head to the side slightly, swirling his drink around in its glass, the ice making a soft clink as it taps on the sides.“What are your opinions on them, anyway?”“Who?”“The people who live here. Your neighbors, co-workers, acquaintances. How does interacting with them make you feel?”I tap my fingers on the table, the steady repetitive feeling of my nails hitting the wood keeps me grounded.“They’re… they’re… well… they’re certainly there, I suppose…”He continues to stare at me, waiting for me to tell him more. He doesn’t say a word, but I can sense his intrigue. He’s much more patient than I’m used to people being.“… I prefer to keep to myself, most of the time.”“Is there a reason?”“Well, they never seem to value anything I have to say, for one. Whenever I try to contribute anything to a conversation they just immediately shut me down. They don’t care.”I pause briefly“I also just… don’t feel I can relate to them. The way that I conduct myself clashes with their ideals. They wouldn’t like what they saw if they looked any closer. So, I tend to keep myself distant, and my relationships surface level. It’s just safer that way.”The man takes another sip from his drink“Are you referring to you being a homosexual?”I look down at the floor, shrinking in on myself shamefully. He’s been inside my head for days, so he must have known this the entire time. Despite the revelation causing my chest to tighten, I can’t say that it shocked me.“… among various other things… yes… that…”I rest my elbows on the edge of the table, and use my hands to hold up my head.“… the nature of my being is fundamentally flawed… I’ve tried to change, believe me I have. Only, it’s all superficial. There’s nothing I can really do about it. I can look the part, and say what they want to hear, but it’s all just a facade. On the inside, my soul is still the same. It’s pointless to try and fight it… if anyone ever truly knew how deeply it ran… I…”I catch myself, and stop my spiel before I get too emotional. But the man sitting across from me seems to have noticed I was choking on my words, because he addresses me in a very gentle tone.“I will reiterate. There is nothing ‘wrong’ with you, ———.”I lift my head slightly to look at him. I still can’t look him in the eyes without feeling nauseous, so I don’t. But, there’s a certain sort of sympathetic gentleness in his expression. Maybe it’s just pity, who knows. But, I’d like to believe that he genuinely understood.“Your experience is one that is familiar to me. One that I carry the weight of even now. I wish to make something very clear to you, ———. Variation is not a crime. It is not a sin. You are not ‘broken.’ You are not ‘defective.’ Deviation from the status quo does not deserve to be met with punishment and ostracisation. That sort of outlook is a fundamental flaw of the society which you live in, and it pains me to witness how little value you see in your own life because of these false ideals instilled within you.”He leans forwards slightly, putting his glass down and folding his hands together, resting them on the table.“You should not feel as though you must stifle your true self in order to feel comfort and safety. Who you are does not pose any harm to anyone. They force you, and many others like you, to hide because their lives are driven by fear. Fear of the unfamiliar. Fear of change. Fear of punishment. Fear of losing their control. That is not truly living, that is merely surviving. You deserve to live, ———.”I sat there in silence, his words hit me like a brick, and shook me to my core. The realization hurt. At this point, I couldn’t stop the tears from flowing down my face. I had been holding in and forcing down the urge to cry since the start of our conversation, I didn’t want to reveal how truly vulnerable I was. But it didn’t matter to me anymore. So I let it go.After I had given myself some time to release my emotions, I look back at him. The blood red rose in the pocket of his suit still shining in the light of the moon from the window. There’s something different about him now. That aura of dread that follows him still hangs heavy in the air, and his physical appearance hasn’t changed at all. But, he doesn’t frighten me quite as much as he used to.“… then… what is there to do?…”The man sits back in his seat, picking up his glass again and taking another sip before responding.“You do not have to stay in this place. I could take you away from here. To a place where you will not be shunned, but rather respected by your peers. You will not have to live in fear anymore. You will not have to hide. You can experience true freedom.”He remains quiet for a moment, allowing me to process his offer, before speaking again.“That is, if you so choose.”I sit up straighter, taking a deep breath“… I… I don’t know if I’m quite ready to consider something like that… I’m not sure that I truly believe that what you say about me is true… or that you’re even real… I want to believe you… I really do… but… I've gotten so used to the routine… there’s familiarity in the mask… you know?… this way of thinking is all I know… this world is all I know… it’s all I have… If suddenly everything were to change… I fear that the whiplash may kill me…”He nods in understanding, then he stands up.“I see, very well. Do not worry, the offer will always remain, and it is there for you to take when you are ready.”He looks out the window at the deep night sky, then back over to me.“It is quite late, would you like to return home?”“Are you leaving?”“Yes. But should you desire to speak again, I will know.”“… Because you can hear my thoughts…?”He chuckles softly.“Yes. That is correct. Very good.”“It’s sort of difficult to forget that…”He smiles at me. Walking around the table to stand close to me, placing a hand on my shoulder. The size difference between us still makes me nervous, but his touch is still very gentle and deliberate. I try once again to look him in the eyes. I can’t. Of course… That painful blue gaze still invokes a headache.“I really am quite fond of you, ———. And I’m very interested in how you will grow, and how you will shape your future. I hope that one day, you come to appreciate yourself and what you bring to the world, and realize how special you truly are. I wish to see you again soon. Goodnight, and farewell.”And the next time I blink, I’m home.That terrible sense of anxiety and dread that hung around the man is now gone. The relief washes over me all at once, I take a very long, deep breath in. It’s like tasting air for the first time, after being submerged in the sea for hours. A great pressure lifted from my chest.I feel alive.
Tomorrow
Location; Mengseck
It was dark, and I was getting tired, my fear could only keep me awake for so long. The adrenaline was fading. The rational side of my brain knew that if I fell asleep my fire would go out, I wouldn’t be able to keep my shield up. The trees towering over me, the bugs crawling beneath me, the deafening calls of the things I could not see. The minute I slumped over, laid down, the minute I succumbed to the exhaustion, the things in the dark would pounce. Those sounds, they’d become flesh, become claws, become teeth and they’d tear me apart. Shaking, cold, afraid. I feel so small. I feel so helpless. I shouldn’t have left alone. I shouldn’t have run away. I shouldn’t have thought I could survive. Stupid, stupid, I’m going to die. I’ve walked too far to go back now, my footsteps in the leaves would alert the beasts.
Did I see eyes in the darkness beyond my fire, shining specks in the shadows? Are they watching, waiting, waiting for my shield to drop. The pitch of the night was thick, thicker than frozen sap. I couldn’t see further than a few casits past my small, dying fire. The darkness was creeping closer each time I blinked the tears from my eyes. There wasn’t anyone around for at least ten masits, the nearest town was a three-day hike. Walking back was a one-day hike.
I want to be back in my village, with my friends and with my grandparents, I would rather spend a thousand days pulling potatoes from the growing bins than be here, oh please. Please please. I could take a million more beatings if it meant I could stay alive. I want to be back pulling weeds and listening to grandmother yell. I want to be back home again. I wanted to be sitting on the bricks by the fire place, smelling the stew on the stove, huddled up on my bed with a warm silktree blanket stuffed with cattail fluff.
Thinking of the day I’d finally get to see one of the great cities, Hytheport, Arkbury, Hifield, Faemouth. What a nice thought it was, to see the places my mother read to me about in storybooks when I was just a little kid. To see the winding streets of little houses and shops and the massive river running through Hytheport. The thick thorny brambles grown into a wall around the fortress city of Arkbury. Hifield and it’s sunlight meadows filled with birds and flowers. And oh how I wanted to see the city of Faemouth most of all, the only major city built up in the sky trees, just like how the kayodes live. My mom said she’d take me there one day. That we’d live there even. And I wouldn’t have to be afraid of the dark anymore. Because the cities were always alive and alight. What if I had my own little house there, up in the sky with the kayodes of Faemouth, would they teach me to sing and would they teach me to dance? Would they like my poetry and my drawings of all the flowers in the garden? I think they would, I like to think they would. Mom had always said the kae were friendly, respectful, and courteous. I believe her. I wonder if they could teach me to fly like they do and like the fairies do. Maybe I could have beautiful wings too one day. Treesilk blanket, featherfoam pillow, mother’s voice telling me about the wonderful world I’m going to see after so many tomorrows. All I’d have to do was get there, to all those tomorrows. But first, I just need to get to today’s tomorrow.
Eggshells
Location; Metidoris, Bimrid
I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel nervous. Watching the guys kick the shit out of some poor bastard and his boyfriend always put me on edge. Had to keep it down, nothing good could come of looking weak. My pals would turn on me in a second if they saw my secrets, I knew that. Didn’t help that my vice was a human, and I was a shapeshifter.
“Ay, I think we killed the fucker” one of them says with a laugh, kicking the motionless human on the ground, square in the jaw. He didn’t react. The other one was still alive, crying, babbling nonsense, trying to crawl over to the dead one. I didn’t like to see it, but it wasn’t like I could stop what’d already started without risking my own life and revealing my own secrets. One of them grabbed the guy on the ground, and started dragging him off.
“Thought you weren’t hungry Darrel, you gonna eat him?” Jake asks as the other guy stops by the corner, shoving a rag into the human's mouth to stop him from wailing so loudly.
“This one is small, and smelling all that blood is making me hungry.” He says, nodding towards the bloody beaten mess of a man lying on the concrete.
I didn’t like seeing the others eating people. I was a hypocrite sure, considering I did the same, had to. Don’t want to starve, don’t want to lose control. I was thankful that Darrel had the decency not to eat in front of the rest of us. What a horrible fate for those two, seen by the wrong group of people, said the wrong thing, murdered for it. I can’t imagine what it’d be like to see your lover beaten to death in front of you, only to be eaten alive. It’ll never happen to me or my vice, I’m smarter than them, and I’m careful. Cautious. So long as they didn’t find him, I could keep living my double life.Home was where I could take my mask off, take my act off. Finally let out the breath I’d been holding onto. Unclench my jaw; let the hair on the back of my neck rest. It was where I allowed the tone of my voice to soften, as I stopped baring my teeth. Comfort and bliss are what with the human who had me wrapped around his finger. Such a fragile little thing he was. His life was hanging in the balance as long as he was with me. He knew it. I knew it. But I couldn’t leave him and he couldn’t leave me. That’d be worse honestly. I couldn’t take the loss of my other half. It made me sick to picture it. At the same time I valued my friends, I valued how they helped me get a place to live. How they pulled me up outta the mud, and gave me shelter. We drink together. Help each other. They wouldn’t have done that for me if they knew what I really was. Hadloving pussy, nasty effeminate homosexual halfbreed, raised by fairies. The sort of hound who gets a bit queasy at the thought of eating a person live. The sort of hound who’d be beaten to a pulp for being weak. For being dirty. A disgrace to my species. A spineless empathetic coward too soft to torture his food for fun.
I look the part of a proud killer. I look the part and I act the part just fine. I can flash my fangs and threaten to crush skulls just as well as all my pals do. Don’t like to feed with the others, I know how easy it is to break my own facade. Whenever they give me that look, whenever they start talking about their family, their friends. I can’t do it, something in me wouldn’t like it if I did. I always kick myself when I let 'em go. I’m skinny, short of a lyn, stunted my growth because I didn’t eat enough in my teen years. If the guys decided they wanted to kill me, they could. If they saw the real me, they would.
None of that matters right now, I’m curled up on the couch, feeling my lover run his warm fingers through my hair, my head on his lap. I can hear him breathing, I can hear his heart beating. I want to keep it that way.
Achromatopsia
Poem by; Max B. "Vøid"
Location; Metidoris, Bimrid
Warm encompassing darkness
Deep ocean of memory
Knowledge overflow in thick welling pools
Silent prayers to the abyss
Baptisms of branching spiralsShining spire piercing rusted metropolis
Bright beacon of salvation
Ever present overseer
Beauty grows through carrion
Blossoming red rosesAchromatic apparition
Shadow tendrils slowly spreading
Loudly ringing adrenaline air
Painful blue eyes bore into spirit
Overpowering frigid chillPatient psychic studying subconscious
A curious experiment
Scalpel revealing deep hidden truth
Unravel existentialism
What unparalleled privilegeA dangerous relation
Closely kept secret memory
Razor smile whispering low
Such complicated emotion
Death and pleasure smell of lavenderNowhere yet everywhere
Watching through borrowed eyes
Glimpses through peripherals
A presence in my veins
Are you with me my lordSacred gift of living
Devoting every breath
The abyss comforts me
Loving dark embrace
Return my soul to the void
A Guide: for those who consort with hellhounds
Location; Metidoris, Bimrid
I don’t consider myself an expert by any means. I’d say I’m a worldly man with a broad array of experiences. Writing this guide has taken me out of my comfort zone, as I am a poet, I rarely if ever write in such a concise and informative way. This text will more closely reflect the way I speak than the standard way in which I write.This is a guide for those who interact with jackolynidae, hellhounds, werewolves, shapeshifters, what have you. I am an assassin, a mercenary for hire who specializes in the killing of other sapient creatures. Most of my targets are hellhounds. It’s not hard to deduce why that is, considering those paying me to kill are generally doing so to carry out some sort of revenge. The lyns of this region are particularly cruel, many of them hold beliefs that are rotten to their core. Horrific things they were taught since birth. The things they do often leave horrific mental scars on those who bare witness. Those they leave behind. Those who survive.Now, I would like to preface this entire document with my very strong belief in the humanity of hellhounds. They are not evil by nature. They are not animals, they are people. They are like you. I do not tolerate dehumanization of anyone, even those who commit truly evil acts. To dehumanize disgusting people is to absolve them of what they have done. It isn’t an act of evil when a cat kills and eats a mouse. It is not comparable to a sapient creature choosing to murder and consume another in spite of an alternative. Evil is unique to sapient creatures. Evil is uniquely human.No species, H. novus, H. sapiens, H. volitilis, H. kayodia, H. quadmanus, nor jackolynidae homivescor is a monolith. No demographic. No generation. No gender. No race. Blanket statements based on these categories are inherently flawed and I want you, my dear reader, to take this to heart. I understand the horrors you may have seen may shape your views, you may even find my words infuriating.
Every living sapient creature on this planet is an individual deserving of basic respect as a person. Even you. And even those who have hurt you.
Safety First
I don’t want this writing to inspire anybody to put themselves in danger. If you live on the coast of Bimrid, chances are you should keep your distance from jackolyns. In this region, the murder and consumption of people like you is standard. I’ve seen the factory farms full of people who have never seen the sun with my own eyes. I’ve seen what they are capable of. The way cruelty is rewarded and compassion is punished in Bimridian jackolyn culture fuels some of the most evil acts I have had the misfortune to see.
Navigating Bimridian Cities
When in major cities, always keep your guard up. Do not relax nor shift your focus from your surroundings. Lynidae are unlikely to choose prey they believe will teleport on a hair-trigger. They aren’t stupid. Always look alert, and walk with a confident stride. Never look lost, even if you are. Predators target the vulnerable.
If you do find you are being pursued, attempt to get to a location where they do not have a direct line of sight on you. Teleportation codes are your best option.
In the case of jinuzium-deradiation
In the event that your access to MIIR has been nullified using jinuzium, you must try to remove the metal from your body as soon as possible. If the device or weapon is affixed to a non-vital part of your body, remove that part. Remove your limb if you must. If possible, continue to attempt MIIR codes, this will cause the jinuzium to heat up as it absorbs the spike in radiation within your body, if you continue the metal will soften, making it far easier to bend and break. I understand the hesitance you may feel to give yourself severe burns. Always remember, pain is temporary. Losing and damaging parts of your body is necessary for survival at times. You can always use a regeneration code at a later time. Death however, cannot be undone.
If the jinuzium device is in a location you cannot damage, such as a neck cuff, or a barbed spike embedded near vital organs or arteries; your options are sadly very limited. Heating the metal to its melting point will almost certianly cause lethal damage. The only thing you can do is attempt to hide from your attacker until they give up. Jinizium restraint devices are expensive, meaning the person attempting to capture you will likely not lose interest easily, as losing you doesn’t only mean losing a meal, but an expensive piece of capture equipment.
Trust Nobody
Do not call for help from strangers. If you find yourself in one of these aforementioned situations, do NOT expect those around you to aid you. Bystanders, especially those in Metidoris and similar cities are unlikely to help you. I have seen many situations where someone is being actively murdered and not a single person in the surrounding area has gone to help. I often find myself to be the only one able and willing to defend human life, despite being feared and obligately carnivorous myself. I will not disclose my exact species, as I’d hope you judge me by my words rather than the blood running through my veins. I understand you may feel the urge to call out for help, to scream, especially if you haven’t grown up here. It is a natural reaction, all human subspecies are social creatures. However in this place, all these actions will do is attract the predator to your location. Another person coming to your rescue is incredibly unlikely. The bystander effect is a cruel reality that you must be aware of.
Understanding Jackolyn Behaviors
Most of the misconceptions about jackolyns come from the dehumanization I mentioned earlier; the idea that jackolyns kill people because they are animals that don’t know any better, or they simply lack empathy, morality, and human emotion because of their biology. This is false. While jackolyns do have predatory instincts, they are still very much in control of their actions. The reason so many are so cruel is because they are taught to act this way, combined with the stigma they have assigned to ethical alternatives. Many consider subsisting off consuming the dead to be disgusting, and cowardly. Traditional beliefs among jackolyns paint those unwilling to kill as weak and deserving of starvation. It is a cruel piece of social evolution that has resulted in some of the worst places to live on this planet.Something that many people here may not believe is the fact that jackolyns are capable of empathy, they are capable of compassion, they are capable of any human emotion. Many have repressed these facets of their consciousness, but they are not gone. I have spoken to jackolyns from other regions, notably those from the cintry of Iridizul. Even while they aren’t on instinct-repressing medication, they behave far differently from those in the western regions. Most iridizuli jackolyns would be offended at just the suggestion of harming another. They are taught to be kind, and live among all human subspecies as equals. Rather than here in Bimrid, where they are told lies of their species’ superiority.
It is important to understand that in Bimrid, the cruelty at the hands of jackolyns is a result of their social structure, not the result of a biological urge.
Jackolynidae Predatory Instincts
If you have found yourself to be around jackolyns you have befriended, it is still very important to understand their instinctual predatory behaviors, and what triggers them.A danger of associating with jackolyns is the fact that their instinctual urges can overtake their rational thoughts for short periods of time, no longer than a minute from my experience, and they must be exposed to consistent prey stimuli.To determine if a trusted jackolyn is experiencing an instinctual blackout, look first for the over-dilation of pupils, raised hair along the back and tail, and forward flexing of the teeth, forcing the mouth to remain slightly open. I have added a simple diagram here.
You will want to avoid the following in the presence of a lyn, (even an individual you trust) whenever possible;
Panicking in any way - Jackolyns can sense a heightened pulse whilst they are near you, which will put them into a hunting-oriented mindset
Quick or jerky evasive movements -Movements like this trigger their reflex to grab prey
Having an egregious injury, or bleeding - The smell of blood will make resisting their instincts far more difficult.
In the event of a friend losing control
If you are ever grabbed by a trusted jackolyn as per their instincts, do NOT struggle, as this will provide more prey stimuli and will only strengthen their instinctual response. Attempt to remain as still as possible, do not yell in an attempt to ‘snap them out of it’. Instead, remain still and limp, use telepathy to communicate. As long as you do not panic, your lynidae friend should return to lucidity within a few seconds.If a jackolyn experiencing an instinctual blackout begins to attempt to consume you, place far more emphasis on telepathy communication, and attempt to cause as much pain as possible while moving as little as possible. I would suggest cutting the tendon which connects their teeth, as this will always break a feeding response. If you do not have a knife or sharp object, dig your thumb into the split behind their soft palette, and rip the flesh separating the sinus cavity in a quick backwards motion. This area is extremely fragile and filled with nerves, damaging it severely will cause the jackolyn to gag involuntarily, which will break the feeding response.
It is imperative that you remain limp and do not struggle or yell. These actions will do the opposite of what you want.I hope that you find this guide helpful, I may add on to it in the future, but for now, this is all the information I have for you.
The Tower Man
Location; Metidoris, Bimrid
The city of Metadoris, capital of Bimrid; a state of anarchy, blatant corruption, and gratuitous violence, the city is decaying, the skyline of rotting old-world skyscrapers is reminiscent of something post-apocalyptic. The structures are held together with quick fixes, the residents carve out their own space in the rot and guard it with MIIR traps and simply keeping hidden, trying to make their homes blend in with the rubble of this old city. The smog in the air stops all but the hardiest plants from growing, the rust is so thick and heavy it tints the skies red, the smell of death emanates from this rotten metropolis for miles around.
Hellhounds freely walk the streets, they are the ruling class, any well-kept buildings or houses outside the city are owned by hounds. Most here make their living through underhanded means even if they are human, taking advantage of others in is simply a fact of life for many in this place. There are no laws to protect you. You have only yourself. If you are not of the ruling class of lynidae, you are worthless, nobody would pay mind to your corpse if it were pinned up on a stake outside a window. That is a normal sight here. If you make enemies without having the means to protect yourself, that is what you get. Even if you were of hellhound blood, the lower class would cheer at your death and spit on your corpse, while the others of your kin look down in disgust at your weakness.In the center of this city is an anomaly, something incredibly out of place. A spire, pure white, and windowless, shooting high above the skyline. All the surrounding buildings have long since been abandoned and left to truly decay without any attempt to inhabit them. It seems to produce it's own light, just enough to give it immunity to shadows themselves. No matter the time of day, the spire is lit the same. It doesn't seem to bear the dirt of the city, nothing can mark this tower. Not the birds nor the teenagers throwing paint on it's doorless base. Nobody knows what it's made of, and few are brave enough to go near. Standing at it's foot, looking up at it, you feel as though you are being watched, as though you are within the sights of a predator, a primal unease like something you've never felt begins to creep over you, your very soul squirms within your skin and every cell in your body tells you to run.
There are few who have swallowed their fear and walked up to it's walls, who have touched it. they say it feels near metalic, but not quite, and strikingly; it is warm, and behind those hard walls is a faint pulsing vibration, like a heartbeat.Urban legends tell of the man who lives within these walls, unnaturally tall, imposing, dressed in a black suit, with a red rose in the front pocket; a common wardrobe choice from thousands of years ago. In every story he is smiling a grin of needles, with deep blue eyes you can't look into without being shown visions of your deepest fears, and a voice so striking you'd have to lose your head to forget it. They say he controls the void, it bends to his every whim, that he is even made of it. He can raise the dead, cure any disease, including the rot; if you are willing to sell your soul to him, or so they say. He toys with people, torments them, kills them, eats them, brings them back to do it all again. If you meet him, it's only a matter of time before nobody sees you ever again. If you let him see you, he will always be watching you forevermore, no matter how far you run or where you hide. Nobody is quite sure how old he is, or if he even ages, or even what he is. The legend of the tower man dates back to before every resident of the city was born. If you ever feel the tower's presence and you aren't near the center of the city, leave and do not look back.. The man in black is near.
Borrowed Time
Content Warning - Vorarephobia, character death, heavy injury, cruel characters, gore, murder, suicide (part 2), subtle allusions to sexual violence, the speaker has flawed ideals
Encountering evil [Clip 1]
All my life, I’d been told I was living on borrowed time, that my defects would kill me. I was slow, my wings were underdeveloped, ingrown lumps in my back. I was small and unsteady, my legs don’t sit right in their sockets, standing is uncomfortable no matter the position. Took me until I was ten to learn to walk right. I’ve got whiskers like my father, but they don’t grow right, they curl, so I clip them when they do grow. It seems the only good bit of genetics I got from that man was my tail. It’s saved me from falling, grappling onto my surroundings in the nick of time more times than I can count.
I was always told they’d catch me. Kill me. My mother wanted me to expect it. She was distant from me and close with my sister. She didn’t want to get attached to a kid destined to die young I suppose. Luck had been more kind to my sister. She had her father’s wings, long and beautiful, strong at the wrists. She had her mother’s height and her father’s slender flighted form, with legs like his. She looked like a particularly large and healthy fairy, the best outcome for a hybrid child. And believe it or not, we were twins, albeit not identical in the face.Her name was Jayla Rooke. Her and mother were close, her father was so proud of her before his death. Smart, funny, and with a bright future, we scrounged up enough money to send only one of us to the academy outside the city. I was never jealous of her, I considered the life I was given to be a gift, every morning I woke. I was lucky to be alive. We all hoped that she would be the one to finally pull us out of poverty, so we could pay for a train out of this awful hellscape, so we wouldn’t have to worry about the constant threat of being murdered.It was a threat every human faced. We weren’t the dominant species here, as we are in so many places. No.. Not in Bimrid. Land of death and demons, of evil, cruelty, a festering example of the worst that conscious life could produce and endure. In every facet of our lives, we are reminded of our precarious position of being alive. Corpses aren’t an uncommon sight. Often completely bare of their valuables, with chunks of flesh bored from their bodies to act as ammo for the guns of freelance killers and mercenaries. Even something as simple as going to the store is painted with this morbid oppressive hopelessness that blankets all we do; as you can find human flesh readily available in nearly all the larger stores for the convenience of the lynidae. Hellhounds.They look like us most of the time, only with small differences. Tall and muscular in their humanoid forms, with cat eyes, teeth like a dog’s and long down-tilted ears. Their tails are thick and muscular, used as a balance while running. If you didn’t have wings, the only thing you had was magic to protect you. MIIR codes as they’re officially called. Outside of Bimrid I hear that most people don’t know how to teleport. Here? We teach it to our children before they learn to even write. I remember learning this fact as a child, and remembering it being so alien, I hardly believed it.There are no laws here. At least not any to protect us. We’re little more than free-range cattle, especially those of us unlucky enough to be born in the capital, Metidoris. It feels wrong to call it my hometown. It’s more akin to a prison. The ruling class of jackolyns have made sure that leaving is near impossible if you don’t have money. Few dare to brave the woods outside beyond the ruins. Mindless beasts inhabit those woods, waiting to tear apart any who stray too far from the false safety of the rotten city.As calm and placid as I was on the surface, in truth I didn’t want to die, though, there was nothing I could do about it. It was coming, and soon. I’d survived into my twenties on pure luck, surely it’d run out soon. I am twenty four at the time of writing this.My life became truly hopeless around a year ago. Jayla and I were coming back from an errand run, early in the morning as we could, in an attempt to avoid as many people as possible. We had picked up medicine for our mother’s eye rash, as well as dry food for the next month. With our backpacks loaded we were making our way back home to mother, to a small section of an old office building we’d reinforced. We hadn’t thought to blink jump there, for those outside of Metidoris, that means teleporting one after another, until you reach your destination. Teleporting can only get you around thirty or so feet, fifty if you’re bigger. It’s taxing on the brain, and leaves you with a bad headache afterwards. So we walked. There was nearly nobody out, the streets on the edge of the city were quiet while most of the people slept and the rats retreated from the rising sun.It came out of nowhere. We had no warning. My sister shrieked as she was hit in the back by something, causing her to fall forward, and cover her mouth, eyes going wide.
“FUCK- WH-Gh” I yell, she squirmed on the ground for a moment and I immediately went to pick her up and bring her back to her feet, straining a bit at her weight (which wasn’t a whole lot), attempting to teleport, it didn’t work and she screamed in pain even more intensely. I soon saw why. There was a barbed jinuzium bolt embedded in her back, between her ribs, glittering green metal glinting in the light of the rising sun. It’s a metal that absorbs MIIR, sapping it out of your body. My attempt at performing a MIIR code had only caused the spike to heat up.I began swinging my head around, my eyes panicked and darting around, “where- where where is it- where-” I couldn’t see a source of the attack, but I was sure the attacker hadn’t just done this and left. No, we were being watched, followed as we walked along as fast as we could.
“Cam… go. Go home Cam..” Jayla muttered, bright red blood trickling out of her mouth. The spike had hit a lung. We needed to get this thing out, and we needed to do it quickly, but I had no tools, and like an idiot I had overlooked bringing the first aid kit to make more room in my backpack.“No- NO! I’m not going to-” I retorted after processing what she wanted me to do. “I’m not going to leave you-”
“Idiot… Cam- nothing is chasing us..” she coughs, “There’s probably a tracker… a tracker in that spike… I can’t go back to mom, and I can’t go to Bennie..”She had made a good point, when hounds hunt with jinuzium they use it to stop you from teleporting, then they grab you. This was unusual.“You’re not going to die Jay-” I say. My voice shaking in my chest, “I– I can pull it out!- let me try- let me try to take it out of you-”“It's.. it’s in deep. I don’t know if..” she didn’t finish her thought. I wasted no time gripping the end of the bolt, it was warm from her body heat and my attempts to teleport with her. I was hit with a wave of nausea, I could feel the vibrations of the metal in tune with her spasming attempts to breathe. I fought back the nausea and reminded myself that once this thing was out she’d be okay- I knew regeneration codes, I’ve done them while under stress. I’d saved lives before. And with all my strength I pulled, as hard as I could, she winced and quietly cried out, but didn’t scream. Screaming attracts predators. That was drilled into us since childhood. It came out slightly, the barbs ripping her flesh around the entry wound, but most of it was still deeply embedded in her body cavity.She coughs and spits up more blood. “I think.. I– my lung might collapse, it's- it’s hard to breathe..” she says with a truly impressive level of calm, while blood dripped from her mouth more quickly, she spat out a mouthful of it after finishing her sentence.
“You’ve got two for a reason- we can fix it- we can fix it once this thing is- OUT-'' I say, giving it another hard yank, causing her to wince and whimper, her wings flittering softly. “Cammm.. Cam please just leave. I can fly- you can’t. I can get away, I will, please..” She was lying. I couldn’t let her go, no..
“Not with a popped lung you can’t!” I retorted, a bit louder than I meant to, pulling at the spike harder.I did feel bad to hurt her. I felt awful. But I’d rather this over her death. My life was a gift. Her’s was a right. If I died.. when I died, it’d be par for the course. What everyone expected. If Jayla died, it would be a tragedy.My attempts to save her were cut short by a hard impact to the head, some sort of MIIR, not a physical object. Regardless it dropped me, and I fell to the ground, passed out for presumably only a few seconds as when I came to, I was faced with the sight of a hellhound, pinning Jayla to the ground, she wasn’t moving. It took a moment for my eyes to focus, but when they did I screamed, “NO NO- NONO STOP-” Which caught the attention of the hellhound. Its fur was light grayish, the deep ginger fur raised along its back, lighter belly and hands.. stained a dark red.. It turned to look at me, scars over its long face, an open-mouthed grin spread over those snakish teeth while they flexed in their sockets.“Leave him- leave my brother, please!” The monster said without moving its lipless mouth, in an exact copy of my sister’s voice. Like a recording. Its throat moved as it spoke, the same way a parrot’s would.
Shock overtook me, all I could do was stare with wide eyes, not blinking, my breathing, it was all I could hear, the beat of my heart, getting faster, faster, faster, she was dead, she was dead, I failed and it would kill my mother to know, I failed, my head felt as though it might explode, it was all going wrong, no no, no it was a nightmare, I was sleeping, I had to be, we were going to go home and read comics and dig into the bag of chips in my bag, it wasn’t real, it can't be real, please, please it had to be fake, a delusion, a dream, my heart couldn’t take it.I was roughly pulled from my spot on the ground by a hand- a huge slick hand, the way the flesh shifted around, grasping me, it was as if there were no bones beneath it. Like a tongue in the shape of a hand, covered in hard calloused skin. I cringed, still trapped within my own mind hyperventilating. The creature held me upside down as it laid down on its side, looking me over lazily. “Hmh. Pathetic aren’t you.” It said in its own voice this time, deep and gravely, with not a hint of empathy. It was evil. This thing.. It was evil.
I saw my sister’s body stir, and all at once it ripped me from my hellish trance, she was alive, praise the universe she was alive, and it was only now I realized where that dark red on the monster’s hands had come from. In the place of where her wings attached to her back were two ragged holes, the hellhound had ripped them off. It ripped her wings off. I wanted to scream but the only thing that came out was a choked whine, like the sound an injured dog makes.
“I’m surprised you haven’t teleported. Most would’ve. I didn’t bank on getting both of you.” The thing says with a low chuckle, it’s monstrous grin widening. It pulls a spike from somewhere I didn’t bother to look, just like the one embedded in Jayla’s back. Viscously barbed and just under a foot long. It brings the spike up, putting its point to my midsection. “N..hh.. Nnnho-” but my panicked resistance doesn’t do anything. It drives the spike through my guts and I scream, tears welling in my eyes, and the next second, It drops me, picking up my sister, dazed from blood loss, and nearly limp. “Oh, stay awake a little longer will you.. You haven’t even told me your name yet.” It said with a tone that made my skin crawl. To my horror it bit onto the limp form, taking her from its hand and holding her the way a dog would carry a wet rag. It made me shudder. it got to its feet, and then grabbed me, fingers wrapping around both my arms and over my shoulders.I didn’t fight back, I was stunned, and terrified, too terrified to even scream. The monster took us back behind a building, through a hole in the street, to the sewers, the smell, oh god the smell, the air was dense and heavy with the smell of rotting flesh, it made me gag, the tensing caused searing pain to shoot through my body from that spike in my guts. The monster took us to its den. Through a simple curtain guarded from the rats by a few protective MIIR codes I deduced were there due to the heating of that MIIR-absorbing spike as we passed the threshold. The room was dim, lit by light spells attached to the ceiling, there was no human furniture, just a big pile of old blankets on the floor covered in fur. I assumed this was its bed. It dropped me on the floor, and then focused on my sister, pulling her from its jaws with those disgusting hands.
“Come on sweetie, open those eyes for me-” it hummed, watching her head fall forward limply. She was still alive, still breathing, but she didn’t have much life left in her. The smell and the hellhound’s words made me feel sick.. I couldn’t watch, but at the same time I couldn’t look away. Jayla’s eyes fluttered open, she stared at the killer, blood streaming from her nose and mouth. And when she didn’t speak or struggle, the beast spoke again. “Tell me your name, I’ll keep it safe, remember it for you~” it said, grinning. She obviously wasn’t in her right mind. She wasn’t thinking.. Not enough oxygen getting to her head.. Because she told it. I know she wouldn’t have done that if she was lucid.
“Jjhhaylaa…” she mumbles.
“Jayla? What a pretty name. Shame you’re a fairy, your face matches your name~” it says, tipping her chin up with his thumb.I gagged, and shuddered and I felt so helpless, “SsTOP- STOPIT-” I had to, I had to do something but I couldn’t, I could barely move, I tried to stand but the pain shot through me and I fell to my side, involuntarily curling into the fetal position. It paid no mind to me. Jayla didn’t respond further, this seemed to disappoint the monster, who grabbed her legs with its other hand, and began pulling, the sounds of ligaments snapping, flesh tearing, it was burned into my mind, her weak gargling whine as the hellhound ripped her in two, innards connecting the two halves of her body, stringy bits of gore dripping onto the concrete floor.My hands flew up over my mouth as I fought back the urge to retch. The monster licks the blood dripping down its wrist, grabbing my sister’s still twitching upper half in its jaws. Her eyes. They were still open. Wide and bloodshot. Moving its head back and pushing forward using gravity and inertia in the same way a seabird swallows a fish. Its teeth flex in their sockets, moving forward and back, it bites onto what remains of Jayla, horking down her shredded lower torso and legs, and lapping the gore off its chin. The hellhound yawned, stringy red spit connecting its jaws as it did so.I lost the ability to keep my nausea contained and vomited, pain shot through me as my convulsing body only made the stab wound in my guts worse by a million fold. My face was red, there was snot streaming from my nose, my eyes were red and puffy, I began to sob, heavily into the floor, deep heaving, rattling breaths. I was growing dizzy, the mixture of shock, bloodloss, fear, pain, and head trauma caused me to fall unconscious, my eyes rolling back into my head.At the time I believed I had died. And after I awoke, I wish I had.More time had passed the second time I fell unconscious. And when I came to my head was pounding, I was still in that same spot on the cold concrete floor. My eyes fixated on the hellhound, now in its humanoid form, putting on a long red cloak. It saw I was awake. And smiled at the look of disgust and pain on my face. It walked over to me, shoes tapping on the concrete. I could still smell the blood in the air. It knelt down, grabbing my face to make me look at it. “Today is your lucky day, I’m not as hungry as I thought I was.” it said, roughly yanking the spike from my abdomen, causing me to lurch forward and scream, throwing up into its hand slightly, there wasn’t much left really, I had been laying in most of it.
It then asked me something I wasn’t expecting. “Have you got a pen? Mine’s run out of ink.” it said, holding up a cracked click pen that was in fact out of ink.
“H..hhuhhh..??”
“Don’t make me repeat myself.” it said, warningly.
“....in… in my backpack…..” I said, swallowing and gagging on the taste of vomit.
It let go of me, and started digging through my bag, only to see where I kept my pens, dangling off the side. It pulled one of them off, snapping the little chain that held it on instead of just undoing the latch like any sane person would. The beast pulled out a little book from his coat, smiling. It began to write on the next empty line;
________________
J- a - y- l -a - ♥
-------------------
When I realized what he had written I felt sick again, and even more so when I saw that the writing above her name, there were others, the other writing in the book.. It was a list of names. Most of them looked to be women’s names. I wanted to scream, to kill this thing that looked like a man, I wanted it dead, I wanted it to die, and I wanted it to hurt, but I did nothing. I did.. Nothing.It rose to its full height, if I had to guess I’d have said seven feet, above average for hellhounds. “Go on, leave. Before I change my mind.” It said, kicking me in the ribs, another jolt of pain from the stab wound surging through my body. I realized without that spike in me.. I could teleport- and the moment that realization happened I blinked away, the world cutting to white, the familiar feeling of being ripped through space by means I didn’t understand. I appeared in the main area of the sewer, standing on unsteady legs in the muck. Quickly focused, trying to ignore the pain, and teleported again, to the surface, grime still coating my feet. It was early morning still. There weren't many people out.I stumbled over to a corner, feeling my aching head, the memories washing over me again as another sob shook me. I’d have to tell mom. I’d have to tell that woman that her daughter was dead. She’d already lost her partner. I doubt she could take it. It would break her. I slumped down against the cold wall, sitting in a puddle. I didn’t care. I needed to heal the wound in my midsection before I did anything else. I’d never used such a complex regeneration code on myself, but I performed it surprisingly well considering everything running through my head, my body filling in the wound with regenerated tissue. It still hurt, spiking phantom nerve pain would linger for weeks after, even if the wound was gone.It didn’t feel real. My mind refused to accept what had just happened. My body felt weightless, I was dazed and dizzy. I just couldn’t. It couldn’t be. She just couldn’t be gone. I’d walk through the door and find my sister in the living room, repairing her jacket or making some concoction of junk food in the kitchen. She wasn’t gone, she couldn’t be. I’d grown up with her, she was there for me, since as long as I could remember. But my more rational mind knew that what had just happened was no delusion, as desperately as I hoped it was.I made my way home. Slowly. Half hoping to be snatched again just so I wouldn’t have to face my mother. It was a selfish wish. She’d be worse off if she hadn’t been told. At least that’s what I thought. She would’ve been heartbroken if we both went missing without a trace, left to wonder what happened to us. She expected it to happen to me.. but not to Jayla. The least I could do with my luck was making sure my mother was not left in the dark.Before long I stood before the door. Taking deep breaths, I fought back tears for a few moments, before regaining my composure. I unlocked the door with my key, turned the handle, and walked in. Mother was boiling noodles in the kitchen. The house was clean, or at least as clean as it could be with the rusting cracked walls and chipping paint on near all our belongings. She doesn’t turn to look at me while she speaks. “You two were out for a while, I was starting to worry a little. I’m making pasta, it’s going to be mixed because we didn’t have a full bag of anything.”I just nod, and walk over to the couch, sitting there, still shaking. I was about to tell her something she would remember for the rest of her life. She would remember every moment of it until the day she died. She glanced over at me, her brow furrowed as she looked at me. I looked like death, I was very obviously shaken, blood and vomit all over my clothes, I was probably still a bit green. “What happened Cameron- where’s Jay?”I opened my mouth to respond, only for my mind to flash with what I’d just seen. I choked on my words and my eyes welled up again. Mother’s face shifted to a look of confusion and concern to one of understanding, she brought her hands up to her mouth, “No.. is she..”I nod.
The Downward Spiral [Clip 2]
In the following weeks, I feel like the shock of it all never truly left. Like It didn't feel real. The house was so quiet. So empty. There was nobody to poke me awake and call me any stupid teasing names when I fell asleep in odd places, nobody to play cards with, or watch old movies with. Nobody to ask questions or reminisce about the past with. About our old house just a bit outside city limits. Back when we were children, and we were allowed to play outside during the early morning hours. Finding bugs and frogs, making forts from sticks and branches, practicing our magic, pretending to be powerful sorcerers from those old-world stories.. It felt like mom had been emptied of the person she was, like she was a walking shell, she never said good morning, good night, never spoke unless absolutely necessary. Stopped making dinner. Stopped picking up after herself.
In truth I had done the same, let myself go. I stopped eating. Only living on the occasional just-add-water microwave meal for at least a few months.Even now it doesn't quite feel real. At least with our father, we had time to prepare beforehand. This was just so sudden, it was just too much to actually process. I'd often forget why I'd wake up so.. hollow. Then I'd remember, my sister was dead. She'd been murdered. It was such a shocking fact. It never permeated my brain, never truly soaked into my thoughts, the way oil and water in a bottle seem mixed when you shake it, but will separate again with time. If I wasn't actively thinking about what had happened, my mind would forget, and in its place was a hollow empty sadness.This was the first time since dad's death that our situation felt truly hopeless. Jayla had been just about to go off to the academy for proper MIIR training, she was about to become the pride of our family, about to set us free from this nightmare. We were going to take the train out of here, first class, all the way to the neighboring country, Mengseck. I hear there are no hellhounds there. Or at least, there are significantly less of them, and they aren't allowed in the cities. I'd been told stories of the Mengsecki houndhunters since I was a child, that they're expertly trained mages who protect their towns and cities from the monsters outside.It was during the early morning. Seven thirty four A.M. I lay in bed, awake, eyes open and seeing nothing. Lost within my own thoughts. Still. Unmoving. Until BANG- I was wrenched into a fully lucid state, sitting up, wingbuds twitching involuntarily. Not a single thought was in my head. I was blank, absolutely blank, and yet panicking quietly, beneath my subconscious. I got out of bed, and opened the door. To the living room & kitchen area. It was clean. Spotless. Aside from.. The ceiling.
Bright red spatter dotted the kitchen ceiling. The popcorn paint texture making all the more chunky looking. I couldn't see the floor over the counter. But I knew exactly what was going to be around that corner.I remember the conversation I had with her the day after Jayla died. After our silence. Mom had asked me how it happened. And I lied. Told her it'd been fast. Painless. That she didn't suffer. I wanted to spare my mother from the horror I'd seen. In hopes that it would make the loss lighter on her soul. I'd wager this would've happened far sooner if she knew what I knew. That her daughter had been tortured by that man. That thing. That it'd probably have done worse to her if she hadn't been born a fairy. That her precious little girl's name was written in that killer's sick little book, with that slimy little heart scribbled next to it. I think mother would've done it on the spot if I'd told her that. Knowing what happened to my sister was my burden to bear, and mine alone. She was a weak spirit. So afraid of grief she hadn't given me a name until I was seven. She was too afraid of my death to properly bond with me.The irony was biting at me. I was the only one. The defective runt. Fate had been so cruel, and yet here I was. The one living on borrowed time. I laughed, for the first time since that day. My laughter morphing to deep heaving sobs as I dropped to my knees, my hands gripping the carpet of our living room, heavy tears falling before me. There was no way out. It was no nightmare. This was the hand I'd been dealt.I don't know how long it was until I left. I took nothing other than the clothes on my back. I never looked behind that counter. The familiar sound of the door clicking shut behind me seemed louder than normal. I'd heard that sound a thousand times, but this time it had this solemn finality to it. This hellscape. This was my home.I didn't know where to go. So I walked. Half-expecting to be grabbed at any second. I didn't care. I had no purpose. Nobody even knew I was alive. Nobody other than… that thing. Bennie had seen me a few times sure, but we never spoke. I wouldn't be surprised if he didn't recognize me; and that was if he was still alive. He had been with Jayla for about three months before she died. About two weeks after her death I'd gone to his residence to tell him what'd happened. I probably should have done so earlier, considering all I found was an empty place full of expired food, signifying he'd been gone for some time. He'd probably gone out looking for her, heightened emotions attract predators. I didn't go back, just expecting the same.Bennie lived alone, which was odd in Metidoris. Most houses were sectioned off portions of larger buildings, guarded by protective MIIR codes and often hidden by looking purposely dilapidated and abandoned. And in these houses, there were often three or more people, usually family, sometimes friends. It was easier to protect yourselves if there are more of you. That, and trying to claim your own place all by yourself is incredibly difficult. It involved finding a secluded and unclaimed location, fixing some sort of barrier from the outside world, usually a door, after this you'd have to purchase a sticker-code, a spell attached to a sticker essentially, and you'd attach it to some power source, usually a crystal. You'd activate it, and it'd be a continuous spell that you wouldn't have to focus on casting.These sorts of codes can't be terribly powerful or complicated, or they may malfunction. I'd learned about all this when my family moved into the city after our old house had been infested with surgeon ants. Jayla and I were around nine when we moved. I remember helping my mom set up the protective sticker-codes, as I was small enough to fit in the vents to place them. Sticker codes should be put in hard to find places, intruders can't disable your protections if they can't find them.The sun was low on the horizon when I heard a loud thud and the sound of breaking bones from behind me, the moment my eyes fixed on its source, a horrible shiver went down my spine, flaring out the hair on my tail, my skin erupting in gooseflesh. I took a few steps back, hiding myself around a corner in a shallow alleyway. One of those monsters, not the same one from before, smaller, light brown and splotchy fur. It'd fallen from the top of one of those buildings. Its eyes were wide, repeatedly glancing up while attempting to pull something off of it, some sort of wire that bit into its skin, immobilizing one of its arms. I saw the glint of metal from above and a flash of light, a figure dropped down from the top of the building, but had swung a sharp left, landing behind the hound with a skid through the dust.I wasn't really sure what I was seeing, the figure behind the lyn charged, they were a fairy, I could tell by the gait alone, but.. I didn't see any wings- wielding a staff of some sort I saw that glint of metal again, and the hellhound shrieked in pain, it was a sound like a thousand voices screaming, garbling, all at once, an awful noise that made me cover my ears. I soon saw what was causing the thing to scream and flail, as it turned its head I could see its eye had been decimated, and leading from the bloody mess was a shining metallic wire, which my eyes followed back to the fairy, it was connected to some device on their back. And just as I made this realization, the guy yanked the wire, ripping out bloody a chunk of ocular tissue from the lyn's head, causing another bout of screaming, and the creature to attempt escape, attempting to wiggle away on an obviously broken back leg, an a front leg restrained with barbed wire. It was a truly pathetic sight. I might've even felt bad for the thing if I hadn't seen what these monsters are capable of.The fairy rushes forward, splitting his dual-bladed spear into two separate weapons, using some sort of MIIR code I'd never seen before to enhance their body, running far faster than any body should realistically allow for, leaping at the monster, they bring the blades up in a circular arc, so fast my eyes nearly couldn't catch it. The fairy stuck the landing, as the hound fell to the ground behind, twitching, its head, its skull, had been cut in half, the internal structures of its face now visible.Now that the dust had cleared, I could get a proper look at the person who'd killed the beast. They had short, spiky brown hair, reflective crimson goggles, and a mouthguard made to look like a huge toothy grin.It was then when I noticed that this fairy had no wings, only clipped stumps. The injury looked old, and the sides of their wings had begun to grow past the cut, giving them a crescent moon sort of shape. They had barely any skin showing, as their entire body was covered in some sort of tight-fitting armor, made of many straps of black leather if I had to guess. Around their torso, the leather was painted a striking white, it looked almost like it was intended to look like ribs.
I was shocked, but for the first time in a very long time, it was in a good way. This fairy had managed to kill one of those things, and with no wings nonetheless. I'd never seen anyone do such a thing, let alone someone flightless. I was battling the urge to run out from my hiding place around the corner, and go speak to this person. I wanted to know them, I wanted to know how they did that. I watched as the weapons dropped from the fairy's hands, which appeared.. Limp. They began to remove one of their gloves with their teeth, and as it came off it brought a few fingers with it. Their hands were red and.. steaming, as if they were cooked inside their gloves. I realized this was probably from the magic they'd used to pull off such a feat. I'd heard body-enhancing codes were dangerous, but I'd never seen how with my own eyes.The fairy did another MIIR code after they'd gotten both their gloves off of their limp, cooked hands. This spell set them alight, in a sparking golden fire that bit away at the tender flesh, leaving behind only stumps, raw, bloody and dripping. Shockingly, the fire didn't seem to affect the leather cuffs around their arms. The next second the mage did a regeneration code, and I watched their body begin to rebuild their missing hands, first the bone, tendons growing over it, muscle blooming from their injuries, snaking its way to it's rightful place, once the musculature of the hand was complete it began to scar over, growing skin. The fairy flexed their new hands a few times, before picking up their weapons, connecting the two into one long staff again, then collapsing it into a far shorter staff.I'd been so mesmerized by watching them that I hadn't gone out to speak to them in time, and the fairy teleported away with a small flash of light and a popping sound as the air filled the space they previously occupied. I sat there for a moment, thinking about what I was looking at. A dead hellhound in the street. A hellhound that'd been killed so cleanly, so brutally, it'd been so fast. And it was done by someone like me. I had this festering idea in the back of my mind.Maybe I did have a purpose after all.
My Purpose [Clip 3]
It took a bit of searching, and a night of staying awake and somewhere high enough the rats couldn't get to me, but I managed to secure somewhere to stay within the next day. An old shipping container, a bit south of the harbor, near city limits. It was empty, had no doors. I set up a disguising code, it makes the crate look empty if you're outside the threshold. With my newfound home, I went searching for things to furnish it with.I found myself rummaging through trash, ears perked up, listening for anything that might've been coming up behind me. Nothing came. And I found a few towels, some wire, a ripped tarp, and a microwave with a big dent in the side. I regretted not taking the crystals from our old house before I left, and a pillow too for that matter. But I wasn't going back now.I brought my haul back to the shipping crate that would act as my temporary home. I piled up the soft things in one corner to act as a bed, I checked over the microwave for any other damage, and found nothing. Though it was missing a power source, it had a socket for a roughly five inch MIIR crystal, that'd cost a pretty penny for sure. Not undoable but I definitely couldn't barter trash for it. I don't have any marketable skills other than my knowledge of regenerative MIIR; and it's hard to find people who'll trust you doing that sort of thing if you don't have your own clinic. I suppose I could try to find another healer I could work alongside.My thoughts were racing for the first time in months. I had a purpose now. I was going to kill that beast. I'd kill that thing, even if it meant giving up my life. Every day that greasy book of names got fuller, I'd be failing another person. Another victim just like my sister. That fairy in the street had shown me, had opened my eyes. Someone like me, a wingless fairy, I could do something. That person. They were the most competent battlemage I'd ever seen. Such a display of ferocity and power against evil, it filled me with hope. Genuine hope, that welled in my chest and took over my mind like an infectious drug. I could do this. I would do this. That creature. It was disgusting. Pure unbridled cruelty. I couldn't let it continue to exist. Remembering it's face when it had shifted forms to look like a man. Its smile. Those teeth. The way it spoke in her voice. Its book of names. It filled me with something I don't think I've ever actually felt before.Hatred.I was coming back from a morning out trying to find food, preferably something that didn't require heating as my microwave was still non-functional. I'd found almost nothing out there, only a bag of flour in a house with no owner, no valuables, and a month old bloodstain on the floor. I suppose in a pinch I could mix it with water and make the world's most flavorless form of sustenance. It was midday, which meant going out was dangerous. Hellhounds only made up around ten percent of the population, but it seems like most of them were out and about at this hour. This was when they'd hunt.
I sat in the relative safety of my shipping container. Resting my head against the metal, listening to the sounds of the city outside as I thought of just how I'd go about finding that hellhound, and more importantly, finding out how to kill it. That fairy I saw looked so professional, I was kicking myself for missing the opportunity to talk to them. There were plenty of fighters that passed through here, Metidoris was the largest producer of handmade MIIR guns in the country, probably the continent. Gunsmiths were incredibly common here. It makes sense honestly. Most Metidoris guns were constructed of human pieces as that's what's in the most abundance when it comes to biological materials. I hear that they make guns out of metal in Renile and sometimes in Mengseck too; just like they did in the old world. Our guns are stronger than both, but taboo for obvious reasons.I never really understood making guns from metal. Leather, bone, and crystal conducts MIIR far better, meaning a more powerful shot. I suppose the fragility plays a factor, but as long as the codes are set correctly; using it shouldn't be putting the gun itself under much stress from what I hear.Rambling aside, our weapons industry attracts all types of fighters, I'm sure a good few probably know how to kill a hellhound. That'd have to be what I did tomorrow. I'd go out and I'd try to find the biggest scariest looking guy and ask for advice. But right now, I was sitting in this box. Watching the day go by. I'd never actually gone out during midday. I was always told it wasn't safe. But.. I was itching. I needed to do something.Against my better judgment, I got up. I went out again, walking with as much confidence as I could on these infernal malformed chicken legs. I tried to hide my limp as much as I possibly could. Having a weakened gait is a rather fast way to get kidnapped and eaten, or so I was told by my father. I needed to find a gunsmith, or a weapons shop of some sort. I didn't really know where I was going, finding anything in this city without a direct invitation there was a nightmare. Nothing was labeled, there were no signs to help, stores often looked just as abandoned and dilapidated as anything else here. Where on earth was I supposed to go?That's when I remembered, the woman I'd bought my book of regenerative MIIR from, back when I was fourteen. I'd been to that shop a few times, she sold mostly utility codes and items related, like crystals and the like. She'd also sell you some funky glowing mushrooms that'd make you see stars if you asked her nicely. Her name was Hilda, she was a fairy, ended up in Metidoris on a stranded passenger ship around fifteen years ago, back in 8436, that boat sank just north of the harbor. The thing is so big the top of it sticks out of the water. Instead of leaving like any sane person would, she set up shop and used her knowledge of writing MIIR codes to help people living here. It's crazy to believe that I met her that long ago, my mother helped her set up her shop. I bought that old book over ten years ago now, and I memorized everything in it since then.I turned around and made my way towards the building her shop was in. A big square building, made of brick. Her shop was on the top floor. Or at least the now-top floor. The building used to be a lot taller years ago. Once I arrived, I was greeted with the sight of two men sitting on the curb, one sticking his arm with a visibly dirty needle full of lava, one of the more popular narcotics here. The other guy already looked high, his eyes lidded and pupils wide. Were they stupid or something? Doing that out here in broad daylight? They must be outsiders if they don't know why inebriating yourself in the middle of a city full of man-eating shapeshifters is not a good idea.
I didn't talk to them. As much as I'd hate to see people die, I didn't want to be beat to a pulp by a pair of drugged men twice my weight. I am a very small man, and I knew that. I walked up to the door of the building and went inside. The first floor was dingy, empty, smelled of urine and had dark orange streaks on the walls in the corner. I never knew what those were. Looked like some sort of paint, and it was everywhere around here. Never said anything decipherable. I wonder if it was put there by some kind of animal. I made my way to the ladder against the far wall, grabbing the rusty handles and climbing up. This ladder went up all through the building, all the way to the top. I didn't look at what was on the other floors. It was likely all sectioned off and claimed. Not my business what other people did in their own spaces.
I climbed off the wire cage surrounding the ladder and stood in front of the door to Hilda's shop, the door was thick and wooden, carved in it was the name of her shop, "Relief & Remedies", with a list of things available tacked onto it. I opened the door and walked inside. The shop smelled of herbs and flowers, with various bundles of dried flowers and plant bits hanging from the ceiling, along with little jars of glowing light spells, casting a cozy warm glow over the place. She had mostly books for sale here, along with medical equipment, splints, stitching kits, bandages, surgical tools of all sorts. I was very lucky to know such complex healing codes, I don't envy the folks who need to use those tools on themselves.Hilda was at her desk, feeding a worm to her pet lizard she'd trained to sit on her shoulder. The thing was strange, it was a deep navy blue, and didn't have any eyes, in its place were little antennae. The thing had two tassels that sprouted from between its shoulder blades; which raised like hackles on a dog as it saw me. Or smelled? I don't exactly know what you'd call detection via antennae. Hilda looked over at me, her curly bushy white hair, dark skin, and pink infinity scarf made her look like a human poodle.
"Welcome! welcome to Relief & Remedies, I hav-'' She paused once she got a good look at me, "Hey I recognize you- you're Neila Rooke's boy, aren't you?" I nod in response, not used to hearing my mothers name, even as a grown man, I hadn't heard it used many times before. "Ahh! I knew I'd seen your face before. What was your name again. It starts with a K, doesn't it?" She asks. "Cameron.. Same sound, different letter." I respond with a small smile.
"Aw close enough." she says, petting her lizard to calm it down. "You're a little bigger now, how old are you Cameron?" she continues.
"Twenty-four." I say, she looks me up and down.
"Well you sure are small for your age." She laughs "I could pick you up, and I'm not a very big lady you know."
"You don't have to remind me."
"So. Banter aside, what are you here to see me for?" She asks, putting her hands on the counter and beaming at me through her thick round glasses.I sigh. "I'm here for advice. I need to know where to find a gunsmith's shop, or one of those meets where the fighters and battlemages go to."
"Why on earth would you need that now sonny."
"..." I couldn't answer. I couldn't tell her what'd happened to my mother and sister. I knew if I did, those feelings would all come rushing back. I'd break down. So I chose a far colder approach.
"I need to kill someone.. Something rather."
"..ah." She seemed to catch the solemness in my tone, because she didn't press me further. She continued, "I know where quite a few of the types you're looking for go to meet, a bar, in the old train tunnels under the city. Do you know where the street caves in, about a mile north of The Tower, well this bar is down that hole, and to the left down the utility tunnel. It has a big red banner out front. Doors are open to anyone, be weary of the clientele, and don't piss anyone off, or I think you might not be seeing me again."
I knew where she was talking about. I've never been there, and in all honesty I give The Tower a far wider berth than most. I can't stand to even look at the thing. It feels so.. Wrong. If you're not from Metidoris, you'll probably have no clue what I'm talking about. In the center of the city is a tower, a spire more like, pointy at the top, smooth sides, like a really skinny pyramid almost. Bright, blinding white, it towers over all the other buildings, never gets dirty, not even a shadow can be cast on it. Looking at the thing will make you uneasy, feels like it's watching you, even if you're miles away. It's got no windows, no doors, and people drunk enough to touch it say it's warm, feels like it has a heartbeat. Needless to say it freaks me the fuck out, and has since I was a child.
Getting that far would be a pretty long walk, especially accounting for avoiding The Tower. The best way to get there would probably be to do a mix of teleportation and walking, though I'd probably be incredibly tired before I even got there. My legs don't do the best on long walks for obvious reasons. It was around five miles if I had to guess. It doesn't sound far on paper but in practice, it's awful. There are so many sinkholes, so much rubble blocking the paths, alleys filled with trash, not to mention the constant threat of the hellhounds, combined with how easy it was to get lost among the towering decrepit buildings.
If The Tower hadn't been in the way, it'd be just barely over a mile, something far more easily manageable. I couldn't just.. walk next to it. No, I was convinced I might just keel over if I got too near. Looking at the thing from miles off gives me a deep feeling of dread in my guts.Hilda's words pulled me out of my contemplation, "Look like you're thinking about something. Wondering how you're gonna get there I'd guess?"
"How'd you guess?"
"Looked like you were doing math in your head. Anyway kid, I can get a warp gate opened up for you. I know a guy who frequents there. Buys herbs from me every now n' then."
"Really? That's so kind of you, thank you Hilda.. I really don't have much to give you in return, but I'll repay you somehow. When is it going to be set up?"
"Tomorrow. Come back tomorrow. I've got a remote telepathy machine in the back, I can talk to that sonofabitch any time I want. Sucker owes me for saving his ass when he caught the rot a year back."
"You've saved someone from void rot?"
"Yeah yeah. Guy caught it just outside, some psycho japped him with a needle full o'void right outside my shop, I wasn't going to have no void beasts tearing shit up around here, so I knocked him out and hacked his whole arm off before it spread, luckily it hadn't fully taken root, so he could grow his arm back with a bit o' regen magic."
"That sounds like... Certainly an eventful day."
"D'worry, I 've had worse" she said waving her hand as if brushing away a fly.
I waited for her to continue on about hectic days at the shop, but instead she asks "Alright now, need anything else from me?"
I thought about it for a moment, then responded;
"Yes actually.. I know you're a healer, but would you happen to have any codes for self-defense? I don't really know any."
"I do I do. Hold on." She walks into the back of the store, and comes back with a small black book only as tall as her hand.
"I've been selling these for thirty to most but I'll give it to you for twenty."
"Hah… I don't even have that, I'm sorry Hilda."
"I'll take payment in other ways you know kid. Come in early tomorrow n' help me clean n' prep the shop. I'll give it to you 'fore you leave through that warp gate."
"..You're so kind.." I let slip out quietly.
"Damn right I am. You're Neila Rooke's boy, and if something's happened to that woman like I assume, I am sure as shit going to help her boy do something about it."
She was very perceptive I had to say.
Hilda continues before I can find something to say. "Now, who, or what, are you killing if you don't mind me asking?"
I was silent for a few seconds as the beast's face flashed in my mind, but I responded.
"A hellhound."She paused for a long second, I could see the gears turning in her head. "..Your mom ain't coming back to my shop, is she?" Hilda finally asked.
The look on my face combined with my silence was confirmation enough, as she let out a sad sigh.
"You got a sister, Jayden, right?" She asked, "She's ok I hope?" Hilda asks, genuine concern in her eyes.
I had to close my eyes for a second at this, drawing in a deep breath, which hitched on the knot in my throat, I wouldn't cry here. Not right now.
"...I understand. '' She said quietly, she was very good at reading people, even if remembering their names wasn't her strongsuit.I responded after a few long seconds of silence, "..I don't need any sort of pity. All I need is to kill that vile beast." It was all I could think about. The thought that I might actually be able to kill that thing, it was an intoxicating idea.
"I admire your forethought to plan this out. Most would go on passion alone and end up wiped off the face o'the earth. I hope I see you again kid."
"I hope I do too. Thank you Hilda." I say, turning for the door, giving a small wave as I leave.I had to get back there tomorrow. Early as I could. On the way back, right as I turned off one of the wider streets and down an alley, it began to rain, the clouds seeming to sap the little color there was left from this awful place. I quickened my pace, not wanting to be cold.
It was already a chilly day, I didn't need wet clothes to boot. I pulled my hood over my head, something I don't often do considering it limits my periphery. I stepped into my seemingly empty little shipping container home, all my belongings suddenly appearing as I crossed the illusion code on the threshold. I sat down on the pile of dingy towels, at least it was better than sitting on the cold metal.My microwave was still broken, and I still only had flour as a form of sustenance. I was hungry. I bit the bullet and found a relatively clean can from the garbage heap near my residence, which I scrubbed with a rag and treated with a heating spell a few times before I set it on top of my shipping container to collect some rain water. I went back inside, sitting and listening to the pitter patter of the rain on the metal above me.
My purpose now, it was to kill that thing. That was the only reason I was still alive. I would do this. And there is nothing on this earth that could stop me from trying my damndest. I would have to keep myself alive, and I'd have to learn to defend myself if I was to truly go through with this. Something I'd believed was impossible for someone so defective, weak, small.This was the first time in my life that I've felt like I truly had direction. A goal. Something I would dedicate every facet of my life to. I didn't feel bored, directionless, I felt like I had something to do, something to accomplish, I knew exactly what I needed to do. I suddenly became aware that I'd been sitting inside for a bit too long, and stepped out for a few seconds to take the can off the top of the shipping container. It had a little too much water inside, so I poured off a little before bringing it inside.I mixed some big handfuls of flour into the water and stirred it with a conveniently shaped piece of scrap metal, adding more flour until it was a not-sticky doughy texture, at which point I pulled it out of the can and took a bite. And as expected, it tasted like the definition of the word sustenance. Completely flavorless, but at least I wasn't going to starve.It was just then when my eyes caught movement outside, a human, holding a backpack over their head to escape the rain, which was coming down much harder now. They turned their head, looking right inside my shipping crate, it was nerve racking, even though I knew nothing outside could see me. This was a rather big human man, he had a slight mustache and some scraggly sideburns. Even though he wasn't a hellhound, you couldn't trust anyone here. To my horror, he began walking towards me.I stay quiet, pressing myself against the back wall, the human steps over the threshold and immediately startles, having gone past the disguise barrier. "OH! Oh I'm sorry-" He says, putting his hands up signifying he meant no harm. "I'm just trying to get out of the rain I wasn't trying to rob you or anything man- I'll go-" He says, sounding shockingly soft for such a big and gruff looking guy.
"You can stay until the storm passes-" I say before he leaves. I didn't want something to grab him. He looked tired, clothes were torn, one of his shoes had a big hole in it.
"Oh- thank you man." He says, sitting down, staying in the front half of the crate, turning his back to me. A stupid move for someone here in this city, but I wasn't going to be the one to teach him that lesson.
We sat in silence for a few minutes, the boredom was getting to me, and it was hard to keep my thoughts from wandering too far.
"..Why're you out in the rain?" I ask the man in my house.
"Hmh.. just got fired." he replies bitterly
"Oh?"
"Mhm. Used to work with the Metiwire broadcast tower."
"The TV station?" I didn't watch TV often, considering the content was often uninteresting or upsetting, but Metiwire was one of the larger stations, they show pretty much everything and anything. A good general TV station for most.
"Yeah you know the one." he said, sounding pretty unhappy about his predicament.
"Why'd they give you the boot?"
"Didn't like em showing arena footage. Was a bit too vocal about it with the boss. He didn't like that."
"Arena footage?" I ask, confused.
"D'y'know? The big fighting ring in those tunnels under the city, built in an old train station?"
"I've heard of it, but I'm not familiar" I did hear of it mentioned before, but never seen it on TV or met anyone who's been there.
"They've got big dudes down there, fight each other to the death n' all. Nearly everyone there in the audience is a hound, there's nearly always hounds in that ring, and half the time they'd be eating people in that ring between rounds, it was sick to watch, I was sick of watching people die, especially the ones they just threw in there, didn't sign up or anything. Just kidnapped people off the street and threw them in there to die. Bunch of hounds cheering and hollering whenever they saw blood. I'd had enough of it."
I listened to him talk, feeling sick recalling my own close encounter with a hellhound. "...That's disgusting… You were right to have a problem with it."The man continues, "At first I didn't really care because it was guys fighting sewer critters, hounds fighting other hounds, everything was fair and all the participants signed up for it. It slowly turned into a glorified slaughterhouse, they made the rounds increasingly more unfair.
Then that guy showed up, huge hound, wears a red leather cloak, he's ginger, has a beard. In his beast form he's real beefy, kinda grey, with a ginger stripe going down his back. That guy was always so hard to watch. He didn't just eat the people they put him up against, he tortured them. Took their arms off, played with them, watched them try to escape, broke their bones, ate them alive. Even when they put him against other hounds, he made a point of being so.. Brutal. It's where he got that ring name, Bloodcloak the Brutal.""..." I silently listened. I couldn't stop my expression shifting, my eyes going wider, my pulse racing. I knew exactly who this guy was describing. That was the beast. The beast I'd promised myself I'd kill.His brow furrows as he looks at me, I didn't even care to hide my expression.
"You… You ok little dude?" He asks, sounding a little concerned.
"I'm going to kill that thing." I say without thinking, no inflection to my voice, no tone. No emotion. It was as if my body had said the words without ever having them pass through my mind.
"You're what now?"
"..."
"..Got some.. history.. with that one, I assume." he says, trying not to sound awkward.
I don't respond. I was lost in thought.
An arena.
It fights in an arena for sport. Of course it does. It tortures people for an audience of COURSE it does. I don't know why it was this that caused my mind to sink below what I thought possible. Perhaps the realization that it wasn't just the beast that'd taken my family, but every single one of them. Those creatures would eat that up, wouldn't they. They love to cause pain, it's part of their nature. They eat people. They torture, maim, and rape and feel not a shred of remorse.
This welling bitter adrenaline, sparking, striking feeling in my chest made me want to scream, want to hit something til my knuckles went bloody and my bones broke. My heart was racing. In that moment I wished I could relinquish my body, that my soul could manifest into something inhuman, formless, that could enact my hatred, my rage. I wished in that moment that I could have been the embodiment of all the ire and dispair that those things had caused, the pain of every single victim giving me strength to end this torture. To have my very essence fuel a fire so vicious it'd tear this place apart. A tornado born of a broken soul, fated to burn this infernal hell to a charred lifeless skeleton. To level this city and all the vile creatures who infest it. I wished for nothing more than to see the smoldering heap of this place as it was finally still. No more pain. No more loss.
Finally dead.
To Find a Houndhunter [Clip 4]
Death is not cold, as they say. Sure your body may go cold after the grip leaves your hands. It's the fear, the dread; It cooks your soul within your skin. The curse of expecting it, without knowing when is torturous. Every jolt of sinking panic. Every moment of anxiety. The dial ticks up, slowly with every passing day. The pressure building. The heat slowly kills your spirit. It renders every facet of your being into something meaningless. Something useless. Something dead. The way slow-cooked flesh slips from the bone, no longer able to fulfill any purpose other than to be consumed.
I woke early. It was dark. Too dark to see. My mind was thoughtless, and yet far from blank. Instead of words occupying my head, all that remained was a feeling. Something primal and festering. The choking pressure and heat within my bones given a direction. The fear I've lived with since the day I took my first breath. I was taking that fire within me, and using it to fuel my actions. To fulfill my purpose.
I was off before the sun rose. The sky was a dusty magenta hue, opaque polluted clouds reflecting the very first rays of light. It'd be a beautiful sight if I hadn't been so focused on my own morbid thoughts, fantasizing of the day I'd kill a killer. I made it to Hilda's shop before her, shown by the locked door and lack of response at my knocking. So I waited there. First leaning against the wall, then slumping down, after my feet could no longer hold my weight. I found myself sitting often. Standing was a chore, and something I couldn't do for long. I take the stance of a fairy, up on my toes the way a dog stands. My human genetics caused my heels to be too low, the tendons too short, my stance unbalanced. After only a few minutes of standing my ankles get tired and I have to revert to an uncomfortable human stance, my heels on the ground, my knees bending involuntarily to ease that discomfort. Paradoxically, I found walking to be far less strenuous than simply standing still. Maybe because the movement puts less constant strain on that one joint.She arrived an unknowable amount of time later. It hadn't been long I surmised, despite feeling like hours. She nodded at my presence, and unlocked the door with a MIIR code. I got up and followed her into the shop, the early morning air seemed to blanket the room, and give it an oddly calming smell, the chamomile more overpowering than the must of the old building and its contents. With a flick of her hand, Hilda filled each of the jars with little glowing orbs of light. I'd never know how she managed to make them faintly orange, every light spell I knew was a blinding cold white."Alright sonny. You're going to be taking all the more valuable stuff out of those hidden boxes and putting it up on display for me." She undoes the illusion she had concealing the boxes she spoke of, a bunch of stacked drawers and crates flickering into view. "Put the stuff in them boxes on the empty shelves. I don't really mind where as long as everything fits."
I nod, signaling I understood the expectations. "I'm gonna go set up that warp gate for you now dear." She says, leaving to the sectioned off area through a door in the back of the shop.I got to work, opening one of the boxes to find an assortment of MIIR crystals. These were used to power guns, appliances, protective codes, and pretty much anything you can think of so it makes sense Hilda would have them hidden while she was away. I took a few out and felt them in my hands, glossy and smooth, with a slight vibration coming from them. I knew touching MIIR crystals was bad for you, everyone did. The radiation would give you cancer sooner or later, that's what the 'magic' was after all. Radiation from another dimension that we could never dream of understanding.I brought as many crystals as I could carry to one of the empty shelves and began to organize them. Each one already had a price sticker on them. Ranging from fifty to four hundred depending on size and how intensely you could feel the radiation coming off them. Once I was done with that it was onto the books of healing codes, Most of the smaller books were written by Hilda herself, pocket guides for those unfamiliar with more advanced healing codes. The larger books all bore the same signature, that being 'Helvin R', written in a very pretty handwritten script. I'd seen that name on nearly every magic textbook I'd had the fortune of paging through. I figured it was some publishing company. There's no way one person could write that many books. Especially considering many were from over a hundred seventy years ago, and there were still new ones being published every now and then.I finished up putting all the more expensive merchandise on the shelves, from vials of amalgumi oil to premium coffee. By the time I was done, Hilda had come out and started sweeping the floor, wordlessly, she was still tired it seemed. She was a very talkative woman when she was fully awake. Once the store was in full operational mode, Hilda unlocked the door for regular customers, though none would arrive for a short while.She hands me the small book of offensive codes she'd promised to give me in exchange for my work, then spoke, "I've got the warp gate all set up. Head through whenever you're ready. I'm warning you kid, that is a one-way gate, when you need to get back you're gonna have to either find that man I told you about, or get back on your own."
"Why didn't you tell me this sooner?" I asked, confused as to why she left this key information out.
"Because I thought I'd be keeping the gate open for the entire day when I called Ripper. He said he couldn't keep something like that open for longer than an hour with the supplies he had on hand."
"Ah.." I weighed my options. Being stranded out there was not something I wanted to do. Not at all. If I was going to get back on my own, I'd need to teleport a whole lot, meaning I'd need a crystal. There wasn't enough MIIR in my body to get me further than half a mile with a blink chain, let alone five.
"Could I take one of those crystals you have? I'll return it to you as soon as I get back here."
She seemed to weigh this in her head, but nodded. "Go ahead. If you lose it or break it you'll be working for me until next winter, you hear me boy?"
"Understood ma'am." I said, grabbing the biggest crystal off the shelf, and putting it in my bag. The thing was at least a couple pounds and about eight inches across.
And with that I went through the door in the back of the shop. This was Hilda's work space it looked like, where she wrote her books and put together the medical kits. Her lizard's cage was also in here, it was a glass shower that she'd converted into a lizard terrarium with a live tree in it and everything. In the center of the room was a device sitting on the ground, sprouting from it was this shimmering.. Something. It looked like the way heat from a fire or spell can warp your vision, but it had a slight iridescent tint to it. I'd never used a warp gate, so I figured you just stepped through. So that's exactly what I did.The feeling was tingling, pressure, sucking sort of feeling that only lasted a fraction of a second, my vision going white, the same way it did when I teleported, only far more intense. I felt myself drop to the ground, hands and knees splashing into a shallow pool of cold sludge that stank of rot and shit. The sewers. I knew that sickening stench. It didn't bring good memories with it. My vision was still nonexistent, bright white as if I'd gone blind, I backed into an unsteady standing position, wobbling slightly, and trying to shake the rancid liquid from my hands.Now.. I had been told there was a big red banner out in front of this bar. All I had to do was find that and I was golden. I couldn't see, especially in the darkness, I had to wait to regain my vision before I could do anything. I became acutely aware of just how vulnerable I was while blinded. The rats. Light-fearing mutated creatures that were relegated to the tunnels under the city during daylight hours. They were born from the developing embryos of humans unlucky enough to carry the disease that causes them. I pity anyone who's had the misfortune of giving birth to one of those monsters. I groped around in the darkness, trying to find something dry or at least not submerged I could sit on, to no avail.The half-foot deep goo was causing my legs to tire even faster than they normally would, but on a lighter note, I was regaining my vision. I would've rubbed my eyes, but I was afraid of getting an infection considering the filth coating my fingers. I could see a blurry black and yellow sign designating a security tunnel, that was where I needed to go. I immediately started off in that direction, a newfound vigor giving me stamina to keep going.The sewage shallowed as I kept going, until I was walking on damp concrete. The air down here was heavy and disgusting, humid but not warm. I kept turning, whipping my head upon seeing small reflective eyes in my periphery, only to realize that my vision was still recovering from the warp gate. My heart was racing already, but I felt as though my pulse may pop out of my head when I heard it.
Clicking.
Tap… tap.. tap ….tap …tapI hadn't thought to do this any earlier, and I was kicking myself as I stared forward, mustering up the courage to look up. My mind was racing. What horrible creature was waiting just above me; about to pounce and rip me apart, feast on my innards and leave my carcass to rot in the filth.Above me was… absolutely nothing.I began walking faster, my heavy breathing slowly turning to hyperventilating, something was there in the dark, just beyond my line of sight, it was there, it was after me, my world was shaking, quivering and I was stumbling, shuddering, the adrenaline overtaking me, forcing me to run, to sprint. I had no higher thought. My body had been hijacked by the primal fear of the dark, of being chased, of being prey.The sight of striking red wrenched me from my panicked trance, made me breathe and slow my sprint, stopping before the red banner I'd sought. My eyes darted around, and found a door, warm light shone from behind it. I ran up and tried the handle, it was unlocked, and I nearly fell inside, glad to be bathed in the light. My eyes adjusted to the brightness, and I finally registered the sounds from around me. People talking, laughing, and the sound of a TV. All around this place, all the patrons paid no mind to me. I was about a foot shorter than nearly all of them. Mostly humans, chimeras, spiderfolk, I didn't feel particularly safe, but at least there were no hellhounds. At the bar there were a few guys sitting, and on the side wall was a board. I walked up to it, along the edge of the place, not trying to get in anyone's way.The bord was full of bounties, jobs, work for the patrons here, requests for help and offers for employment. Everything from guarding build sites, to hits on killing specific people. I felt sorely out of place here. I knew I was small, but the size of the men and women around me made me feel miniscule. They all looked so strong, and if not huge they were armed to the teeth with huge weapons and defensive gear.One of those big guys pointed at me suddenly, snapped his fingers a few times, beckoning me over like a dog. I was startled but walked over, not really sure if I had any other choice. He was a big human, muscular with a bit of a belly, he looked to be in his mid fifties. He had graying hair and carried about a hundred bags with him, along with his cargo pant pockets.
"What on earth is something like you doing down here. How old are you, kid?" he asks.
"I'm not a child.." I sigh, a bit annoyed at always having to clarify. "I'm twenty-four."
"Still puny ain't ya. Anyway, what're you doing down here."
I decide to get straight to the point, not being in the mood for small talk.
"I need to kill a hellhound"
"Oh do ya now?" he laughs.
"I do. If you can't tell me how or point me to someone who can, I'll be going."
"Someone like you ain't never gon' kill a hound." he takes a sip from his beer. "Unless that is, you drink ten espresso shots and then let one eat you." He was obviously joking, but sacrificing myself wasn't something that'd stop me.
"..I'd do that if it came to that.. Though. The hounds can smell it, I hear. It wouldn't take the bait."The man's smile faltered at my morbid response. I didn't break eye contact with him, as I asked, "Do you have experience with dispatching these beasts?"
He waited a second, seeming to finally take my words seriously. "I've killed two of them." He says after a long pause, no longer looking so amused. "I'm no professional. Was self defense both times." he continued.
I listened patiently, taking a seat across from him at the table."First one, I was a lot younger. Twenty or so. Just arrived in this city. Didn't take the warnings seriously. Didn't think there were hellhounds here that'd just try to eat you. Thought it was all exaggerated." He looks down. "Was until I was grabbed by one, dragged away. Thing is, it didn't realize I had a gun on me. Little peashooter." He pulls a tiny pistol out from his pocket, made from opalized bones, glossy silver metal, and dark leather. It had a few tassel tips worked into the handle. "Right before it ate me, shot it in the top of the mouth, I put a hole right through its brain and it dropped.." He said, motioning with his hands.Destroy the brain. That was how that wingless fairy did it. Cut its head in half. That was how this man did it. The question was, how on earth was I going to do that.The man continues. "Second time I was just trying to save someone, hadn't intended to kill the thing until I saw what it was doin'." he took a sip from his beer. "It had caught a girl, couldn't have been older than fourteen. It was still in its human-lookin form, didn't go all werewolf mode yet. But I knew it was gonna, and I couldn't just ignore that kid. Threw a fire spell over and it set the beast's clothes alight. Took him a couple seconds to put the fire out, but by then the kid had blipped away." He looks over to see if I was still listening, which I was.
"Naturally, the thing was pissed at me. And I was not the best fighter back then. It was cheap I know but I got him with a stunblade, paralyzed the fucker."
"What's that?" I ask, not having heard of a stunblade.
"Ah. Little knife that has a handle made of crystal, and a built-in discharge code that'll shock the shit out of anything you stab with it." He says, again motioning with his hands. He seemed to like talking with his hands. He was a very animated man.
"..Sounds useful. It's not lethal I assume?"
"No. After the thing dropped and started twitching, I put a shot between its eyes. Not exactly self-defense I know, but it was about to kill that kid. I couldn't let it live."
"You were right to do that. Letting it go would put the blood of its future victims on your hands too I'd say." I responded.
His eyes looked to his third-full beer, he seemed mildly bothered by my statement, and tried not to show it. Had he thought of letting it go?
He continued. "Do you see that man over there?"
He points at a man with four arms and a tail like mine sitting up at the bar. The guy wasn't particularly muscular, but he did look rather tall and intimidating, dressed in black, hooded, big boots with steel toes and spikes. "That guy kills hounds on commission."I stare over at him for a moment, before standing up. "Thank you for your time sir." I say before walking off, still mulling over the look on his face in my mind. He looked uncomfortable around me. Uneasy. I figured it was because of the morbidity of the whole conversation, perhaps my lack of tone.
I walk up to the man dressed in black and metal, and sit down. He looks over to me, his eyes are a bright green, contrasting with his mid-tone tan skin. He makes no sound, his look alone conveying that he wants me to state my business or leave.
"I was told you kill hellhounds?"
"I do." he turns his eyes forward, continuing "..If you've got the cash." He had the Bimridian accent, signaling to me that he's lived here for a while if not his whole life
"I want to do it myself." I respond
"Do you now?" he asks, smiling. His canine teeth are sharp. He was some sort of hybrid, I surmised. His skin made me think of the kae, tall wood fairies from the far south. Spiderfolk tended to be pale. He had a wonderful set of features, I found myself admiring his face even if I didn't show it."I do. I'll do anything for it. Even if it costs me my own life."
"Give it a few years. Your mind is twisted by loss and trauma. Your hatred and passion will fade, tru-"
"-No." I interrupted him. He didn't seem to like that.
Before he could say something, I continued. "I don't want it to fade. I need to kill that thing. I need to see it die. It's cruel, sadistic. Evil. It made the grave mistake of gifting me with another chance the day it let me live. Granted me mercy. And I will use its disgusting gift to make it pay with its life. Every day I still breathe and that creature persists is another day I have failed. Failed my sister. Failed my mother. Failed every name in that greasy book, and every name to come."He waits for me to finish before responding, his nose wrinkling slightly, like the snarl of a wolf. I could see the kae blood in the structure of his face more prominently now.
"You'll be throwing your life away boy. And you won't succeed. No matter how pissed you are. No matter how sad you are. You'll be murdered and nobody will remember you by this time next year." He takes a sip from his steaming cup. He was drinking coffee.
His words caused that bitter anger within me to spark and flare, I wanted to scream at him, hit him, but at the same time I knew he was most likely correct. I was small and weak. I knew that. It took me a long few seconds to respond.
"..I'll learn. Are you willing to teach me." I ask, staring down at the dark wooden counter.I am met with silence.
A Grim Reminder [Clip 5]
Perhaps it had been my tone, the look in my eyes, or perhaps the way he sensed the determination within my soul. He knew that if he didn't someone else would.
Within the day, I found myself being led through the dark of the sewers, The man in front of me so much taller, his stride so smooth. He turns to look at me to be sure I am following close behind. His eyes reflect the shreds of light that manage to get down this far. He hadn't said a word back in the bar. All he'd done is stand, and beckon me.I didn't know what to expect. I didn't know where he was taking me. All I knew was that he could teach me how to kill a monster. So I followed. Blind trust and desperation guiding my admittedly stupid actions.He took me to a ladder, around a bend and up some stairs that were in surprisingly good condition. Through the hatch in the ceiling. We were in some sort of maintenance crawl-space type area. Despite his size, the houndhunter managed to get through the space with ease. The darkness was oppressive, my eyes were near useless here, so I focused on the sounds of the man in front of me shuffling forward instead of trying to see. It was cluttered, various things littered the concrete so much so that I barely felt the true floor. Rubble, metal, the familiar feeling of bones beneath my fingers. I cringed. Where on earth was he taking me.My eyes fixated on light ahead of me, blinding considering my eyes had adjusted to the darkness. I saw the houndhunter climb up, sitting on his knees and looking up through a very narrow hole. I clamber over next to him, to look through the slot he was staring through. I quickly realized we were staring through a long and narrow vent, set near the ceiling of a room. I could see into the place we were spying on.I honestly wished I hadn't. I wished I'd been blind. In that moment.The first thing my eyes focused on were the abundance of hellhounds. I noticed them in an instant, the same way your brain can pick out a spider or snake from only a glance. There had to be about ten of them. The second thing I noticed was what they were doing. Most were in their animalistic forms, laying in rough sewn beds, talking amongst each other, smoking some sort of drug. And the third thing I noticed was the people. In cages against a wall. I couldn't tell if all were alive. Crying, sobbing, huddled small, pressed into the corners. Five or so people were there. The cages were made of jinuzium, I could tell by the glittering green glint of the metal. Like fish in a tank in the entryway of a harbor restaurant. Only these fish knew their fate.A girl is in one of those cages. Staring from between the bars, fixating on a light brown hound in the far corner. Rage fills her tears as she chokes on them combined with her own blood and snot. She was bruised and her legs looked visibly broken. She grips the bars of the cage so tightly it looks as though her fingers might break. A cruel pang of empathy sends a shiver through my body. I can't watch this. My own weakness, my own helplessness. I can't stop this. I see your agony and I cannot help you. I am powerless.I felt as though I might throw up, memories rushing back to me, I staggered and my knees buckled as I hit my head on the concrete above me. "SHH!" I screwed my eyes shut, I could feel the hot tears coming, my face scrunching up, blood flushing to my skin, the lump forming in my throat. Nobody deserves this. Why had he brought me here. Was he going to save all these people? Was he going to kill all those hellhounds and rescue them? In that moment I hoped he would. So very desperately. Save them. Spare them. Please. But his eyes met mine the second my eyelids fluttered open.He grabbed my arm, and roughly dragged me to the side.
Away from the cruel light.
Away from that horrific sight.
Away from the girl who bore my very own plight.My hands grappled with the ledge, tried to pull his huge clawed hand off me, but he was far too strong. He took me away, forcefully ignoring my quiet sobs, my mind overtaken with the haunting sight I had just bore witness to. The last moments of a stranger. I knew how she felt. I knew what she'd seen. It did not matter that I didn't know her. I didn't know a single soul in that room. I couldn't stop the tears from falling, my body from tensing, feeling the phantom pain of being stabbed in the guts with that barb. Visions of the blood-coated concrete. That girl would be dead come nightfall, as would the rest of them. And I'd seen her. I'd seen her final hours. The clawing solemn anger in my heart begging to claw its way out, not knowing it had been cursed, condemned, to a useless pathetic body that could not fulfill its passionate bloodlust."You can't.. Ygh.. yough you CAN'T- You KNOW HOW TO SAVE TH-" I am cut off by a hand over my mouth, gripping my face in the dark. Reflective eyes boring into me, his silence attempting to intimidate me into joining it. It would never work. Nothing could overcome the rage within me, I quiet myself only long enough for him to take his hand from my mouth.
"Ghh.. Gh. You.. you chgh- ch- you know how to kill those things. WHY DON'T YOU. WHY ARE YOU LEAVING- LEAVING THOSE PEOPLE TO DIE-"
"Shut up-" he hisses, a dry whisper that cuts through the darkness. "They are going to hear you." He continues quiet as he can. He yanks me along, two of his four hands gripping me tightly.
I felt so helpless.
And without warning, he teleports, bringing me with him. My world goes white as I am enveloped in the familiar feeling of being transported through space.My eyes adjust, vision going from white to pitch black, letting me know that wherever he's taken me is dark. That is until he does a light spell, a small glowing orb illuminating between us. The air is warm, and I notice the surroundings are.. Furnished. This was his house. He lights the rest of the place using more light codes. It smells heavily of coffee."What you've been through is far from unique. Far from uncommon. It happens every day. What you've seen. The horror you've experienced. It is a fact of life."
"Whn.. wh- that isn't an excuse to leave those people back there??" I choke out, watching as he takes a seat on a stool in front of me."I would not be able to take on all five jackolyns at once. They would subdue and kill me. Rescuing their prisoners would be incredibly tricky considering the jinuzium cages nullifying my MIIR codes. Despite my expertise, I am just as powerless as you are in this situation. Leaving them to die is the only way I can continue to live, and continue to rid the world of awful people."
His voice is calm, and his words are rational, but my brain does not parse this, and I feel the overwhelming urge to lash out. Their blood was on his hands in my eyes. And what had he called those beasts..
"People?!"
"Yes. People. Jackolyns, hellhounds, they are people. I do not tolerate dehumanization. If you must rip away your enemy's humanity, you are no better than they are."
"H- what. How can you 'dehumanize' something that isn't even fucking human to begin with? Those things are MONSTERS. They're ANIMALS. BEASTS. They are a DIFFERENT SPECIES. They are NOT human." I yell, exasperated from everything I'd just seen and heard.His response takes me off guard. "Neither are you.""W-what?"He stands up, looming over me. He pokes me hard in the chest with a clawed finger. "You are not human."I knew that. I knew that I wasn't technically a human. What was he getting at.. "What does that have to do with anything??"
"You still consider yourself a person. As do I. Neither of us are human, and yet we do not wish to be dehumanized."
"..Those things aren't anything like you or I.."
"What is the difference between us and them? Tell me what it is."
"They are evil." I responded without a second thought.
"Wrong." He retorts, giving no explanation. My face contorts with incredulous disgust at his words.
"What?!" I yell, my heart beating faster, I wanted to hit this guy, was he siding with them? Was he going to justify what they do, was he going to call it natural?
"Any person can commit evil acts." he finally adds. He waits a moment before continuing. "If it is our sentience that makes us people, why should we exclude hellhounds from personhood?"
"Because- because- they're programmed to do that! It's how their brains work! Like how cats chase mice."
"Wouldn't that be stripping them of responsibility for the evil acts many of them commit? Animals can't be evil. They're animals. These hounds, they are sentient. They can speak. They know what they do is wrong, and yet they do it anyway. That is not the action of a mindless animal running on instinct, that is uniquely human. Only sentient life can be 'evil'."I wasn't listening to his words. His attempts to humanize the monsters that had ruined my life was making me angry, he was disgusting, no better than them. What if I'd been lied to? What if he wasn't actually a houndhunter? Had I been set up? Was he going to kill me? He was part wood fairy, kayodes as they call themselves. I'd heard the stories of wood fairies, they were carnivorous. They weren't the same as common fairies like my father. They'd eat you if you weren't lucky. No wonder he relates with the beasts of the city, he's just like them. A beast of the trees. How could I have been so gullible."If you love those things so much why the fuck are you a houndhunter."
"I'm no Mengsecki houndhunter. I am a murderer. Nothing more, nothing less. A killer just like those I kill. The houndhunters from the west are bounty hunters. They capture jackolyns and bring them back to the cities to be put on trial like men."This can't be true, I'd been told all my life that houndhunters killed those beasts, what was the point of putting something like that on trial? They were always guilty."You.. you.. What is wrong with you.." I mutter quietly. "Why did you make me look at that..why..""I was showing you how common your plight is. There are thousands just like you. Broken people out for revenge that are ultimately doomed to die in vain. If you want me to teach you to kill the one responsible for your trauma, I need you to understand that you are not slaying a beast, but killing a man. A terrible man. But still a man."
"Nothing.. Nothing human could be that evil.. It is a monster."
"There are people far more evil who don't have a drop of hellhound blood in their body. I guarantee it." he says, taking a seat again. "No species, no race, no nationality is a monolith. There are exceptions to every rule."I didn't respond. He was making me think, and I did not want to think.He broke the silence with a question.
"What's your name?""What?" I ask before I can stop myself. I'd been taken off-guard by the question.
"Your name. I need to call you something."
"... Cameron" I say after a few seconds of silence. Hearing my own name was strange, even if it was coming from my own mouth. "What's yours?"
"Rayleigh. So. Cameron. I do not work for free. I do not carry out hits for free. Nor do I train people for free."
"..I don't have any money."
"What's in that backpack of yours." He could probably tell I had that crystal on me. I could feel the radiation from it buzzing through me so strongly, he could probably feel it too.
"It's not mine. I'm just borrowing it to get back home once I'm done on this side of the tower." I say flatly.
"Hmh." he looks at me, his eyes narrow as if trying to determine whether or not I was lying."I don't particularly want to train you. What on earth are you going to do to convince me, Cameron?"
"I don't know. I hadn't thought I'd get this far in all honesty. I can work. I've already worked in exchange for things I want."Rayleigh looks like he's thinking, pondering something, he gets up, grabs a glass from the cabinet, and fills it with water. He hands it to me. I don't quite know what to do with it, not really being used to kindness like this from a stranger. "..thank you?"
"Tell me about what happened to you, Cameron." He says, taking a seat on the counter and staring down at me the way a puma stares down a deer. Needless to say, he didn't make me feel particularly safe in that moment. Despite my unease, I told him.
"..one of those things killed my sister.. It ripped her wings off.. It kept.. It said.." my voice trailed off into silence as I felt the lump forming in my throat again. I continued. Powered through. "It has her name written.. Keeps a book of names.. I just had to watch.. Had to watch what it did.. It does that.. It does it for an audience.. Fights in an arena.. Surrounded by demons.. Dressed in a red coat.." I say between sharp inhales and quiet sobs. "It goes by.. Its name is.."
"Brutal. That sounds like Brutal. The ring fighter." He interrupts me, seemingly unbothered by my crying. "I've never met someone who's actually had an encounter with him. I do not envy you, from what I've heard about him. He's done far worse than that, Cameron. Trust me."
"Why haven't you killed him then.. Just doing this for money?" I wipe my tears away, trying to regain my composure.
"No. I've had people ask me to go for him. Try to pay me their life savings. He's dangerous. And his residence is well-guarded. The only way you'd be able to fight him is to do so in the ring. The problem with that is there is no magic allowed. He would kill me, the only way I've thought to kill him would be to fight him in the ring. Use a blade implant once he brings me close enough to his face. It would work, if I couldn't feel pain anyway, and assuming he didn't break my arms. Even if I did kill the fucker, I'd get a generous helping of hellhound blood in the blade wound and die within the hour."I took a sip of my water, listening to him talk. "Blade implant?""It's a big knife, only it's inside your arm. In a sheath that's mounted to your bones. Spring-loaded and embedded between your muscles. You activate it and it'll rip out of your skin, shoot through your hand faster than anything can react. It's an incredibly effective weapon. If you have the pain tolerance of a God and don't mind mutilating your own body every time you use it." He says that last part sarcastically, but if it's something that would let me kill that beast, well I'd take just about anything into consideration right now."Where can I get one?"
"No. You will die, even if you kill him. You will not make it out of that ring. Hellhound blood is chock full of poison, if you kill him with a blade implant you will get that poison in your system."
"I don't care… I have nothing to live for."
"Nonsense. You need to heal. You don't need revenge. Revenge won't fix you."
"I have no dreams. I have no goals other than this! This is my purpose. I am weak and useless. I have no skills, and I have known that since day one. My legs don't work. I cannot fly. I'm not very smart. I am alive because of sheer luck. The least I can do is make sure others don't suffer. The least I can do is kill that awful man. I don't care if I die as long as I take that fucker with me."
"I'm not going to allow you to throw away your life. If I let you, your blood would be on my hands.""Then lick it off. Enjoy it." I said with a cruel spit of venom in my voice.His face twists slightly, he'd taken offense to my comment, putting on a disgusted half-snarl. "I'm no cannibal. If I had less restraint I'd slap you upside the head for that." His voice was cold and bitter, I'd struck a nerve."...""Where do you live, I'm going to take you back."
"I'll just find someone else if you don't help me. I'll find someone who will."
"I'm taking you home." He grabs me, "Tell me where you live. We're leaving."
"I don't have a home. I live in a shipping crate with moldy towels and a broken microwave. I haven't eaten since yesterday. All I want is to do this. I have nothing. I will never stop trying. I will find someone else. I will do this whether you help me or not."
He stares down at me. His green eyes shimmering in the pale glow of the light spell floating above him. "You can stay here in that case." he says as a stern order.
"... thank you."
"Fuck you." he replies, staring me down. As intimidating as he was, I wasn't afraid of him now. His actions told me that he wanted me to live, he wouldn't hurt me.
He took me to a small room with a mattress on the floor. It doesn't have a cover, and there are a few old stains on it. The room looked more like a large closet than a room at a second glance. "You will sleep here." he says, pointing at the bed and speaking to me as though I were a dog.
"Understood." I reply, sitting down on the mattress.
"I'll get food in a bit. Get comfy."I let myself go limp. Falling backwards and plopping onto the mattress. Was this man going to help me. Was he going to attempt to take away my passion, try to 'heal' my anger. He had all the skills and knowledge I needed. He could kill that thing. He was afraid. Afraid to sacrifice himself. It made sense. He valued his life. I didn't really care. I was going to be the one to kill it. I would do the deed myself. I'd go out with a bang. Fantasies of martyrdom fill my mind, fighting the creature and winning on its own turf. Being ripped to shreds by its fans after making my point. It'd be enough. I want my death to be an inspiration. I want people to know what I did. I want them to remember me as the man who killed the monster against all odds.I wanted them to know that we wouldn't take this lying down. I would fill all who bore witness with hope, the way the wingless fairy I saw filled me with pure unbridled hope. Invigorating and revitalizing. It put the horror in my head to use. Gave my despair a direction. I want to give that to any and all who would know my story. I want to inspire a revolution. It would be my dream.
My thoughts were halted by movement as Rayleigh came around the corner, and set a bowl on the ground in front of my new bed. "..."
He walks off, evidently busy. I lean over and peer into the bowl. Looks like microwave noodles. It'd been a while since I had hot food. I picked it up and started eating. It was dollar store food, but it was so good considering just how hungry I was. I had emptied the bowl within minutes. I figured I should do the polite thing and clean up after myself. He had brought me food and allowed me to stay in his house. I picked up the bowl and walked down the short hall to the kitchen. I was immediately caught off-guard by the sound of a second voice. There was a new person on the couch, talking to Rayleigh, who was on the floor. Couch guy was blonde, pale, a human too, but still slightly taller than me. He looked over at me, standing in the doorway with my empty bowl. "Aye Ray, who's that?" he asks.
"Nobody important. Some suicidal kid I picked up outta the tunnels."
"Not a kid." I correct him, as I put my bowl in the sink, and turn to head back to my room.
"Wait a sec-" The human calls to me. "You that guy who wants to kill Bloodcloak?" He asks.
"Yes." I respond flatly. Not turning to face him.
He laughs a little "Dear lord you ARE tiny!" he turns back to the kaespider Rayleigh. "You weren't lying, he is absolutely puny." Rayleigh did not respond. It seemed like he was waiting for me to leave. So I did. And as I rounded the corner, that guy called after me, "Good luck little guy, I'll be rooting for you!" It didn't sound like he was mocking me, even if his voice was rather grating.I laid down in the bed, I don't know how long I sat there. My mind is spinning. It had only been a few days and I was already in the house of a houndhunter, even if we weren't the best fit for each other. I was still making progress. He was either going to teach me, or I was going to go to someone else. And he didn't want either of those options. I was hoping he'd pick the former. I didn't want to go searching for another houndhunter. Truthfully I'd found Rayleigh by pure luck alone. I didn't know if I'd be so lucky again. I'd been chased by something in those tunnels, unless I'd imagined it anyway. What if it caught me next time? That was something I didn't want to think about.The next thing I remembered was waking up the next morning. I didn't move. The bed was far more comfortable than the shipping container. I wonder if Hilda was worried about me. Did she believe me to be dead? I hoped my absence wasn't paining her. There were no windows in this room, so I had no clue what time it really was. My circadian rhythm was telling me it was morning and I was trusting it. I stood up, staring blankly into the darkness. The door was outlined by a ring of pale light so faint it was hard to tell if I'd been imagining it. There was almost nothing going on inside my head. All I knew is that I didn't want to be asleep anymore.I went out into the kitchen, which was connected to the living room. I didn't see Rayleigh anywhere. However I did see that blonde human from last night. He was sitting on the couch, paging through a book. He looks up at me.
"Aye Ray's out on a job, he told me to watch ya. Name's Jack."
"..Cameron.." I say in response, not really in the mood for any conversation."So. You're gonna try n' kill that big hound who fights in the ring?"
I look at him, and I nod, silently.
"Ray thinks you're gonna be killing yourself, but hey, I'm excited to see you try." Jack says while he flashes me a grin. One of his teeth has a big chip in it. "That guy murdered the bookshop owner down the road about a year back. The guy was in every sense of the word a pacifist, an artist, an altruist, you know, the type of people who don't make it here. Everyone who's been to that shop loved that guy. One of the few genuinely nice people. Nice enough to let hellhounds into his store."I wasn't surprised to hear this. I knew that thing was evil, I knew it would take advantage of people. I didn't like how matter-of-factly he had told me this. He seemed to have the same callous disregard for human life that half the residents of this city harbored. It disgusted me. And even still, I didn't find myself hating Jack. His paradoxical optimism was grating, sure, but at least he seems to take me semi-seriously. His presence wasn't as harsh as Rayleigh's.Jack sets his book down, and continues.
"I'm not lying when I say I'd love to see you win. And I'll help you as far as I can."
This catches my eye as I turn to look at him more directly, looking away from the microwave breakfast I'd started preparing.
"Ray says you want a blade implant. I agree with Ray, that using a thing like that on a hellhound would be a death sentence 'cause of the poisonous blood. Even so, if you want one, you want one. And you'll have a good chance at killing that beast of a man.. I can feel that fire in your eyes. Eatin' away at ya. Oh I can tell you're gonna go out in a blaze o' glory.""You'll help me get one?""Damn right I will."
Grotesque Methods [Clip 6]
I spent the next week or so conspiring with Jack, and doing various household chores for Rayleigh in return for him giving me a place to stay and food. Cleaning the dishes, sharpening his knives, doing the laundry, among other things. He didn't seem to want to actually teach me anything. It was like he was stalling. Wasting time in hopes I'd get over myself and give up. Luckily, Jack was with me, on my side. He was nearly always at Rayleigh's house, they seemed to be oddly close for the relationship Jack explained they had. They both seemed very comfortable around each other, drawn close, but never outwardly romantic.
Rayleigh was Jack's bodyguard. Jack was a premium narcotics dealer who would sell at some rather dangerous locations. He told me how he did business with hellhounds, despite not particularly liking them. Apparently, those things will pay through the nose for something that'll actually give them a high, considering lynidae are completely immune to most mind-altering drugs. I wasn't a fan of the fact that Jack was ok with taking money from beasts like that, but at least he seemed to be mostly level-headed.
Jack was going to get me into that ring, and he was going to get me a weapon that would give me a chance at winning. He knew a guy, a surgeon, specialized in prosthetics, body modification. He was one of those cybernetic surgeons from Iridizul, until he got his license revoked for giving someone he didn't like a faulty implant. Killed his ex and tried to play it off as an accident. Managed to get on a boat to Metidoris before the police found him. Jack had an implant of his own from this surgeon. Nothing super crazy, just a panic button sort of thing on the back of his hand, that would tell Rayleigh if he was ever in trouble.I heard the door shut, signaling that Rayleigh had left, gone off to go kill something. The second he was out of earshot, Jack gave me an intense look, his smile dropping.
"I've got your surgery scheduled."
"I thought you said the guy wanted payment first?"
"I said I'd make sure you pay up. Bring that crystal."
"Ah.." He knew what I was thinking about. We'd spoken about the payment method before.The implant I was going to get was called an internal springblade; the blade implant that Rayleigh had mentioned. The only problem was that I had no way to pay for it. No way to pay for it other than to betray Hilda, and give away the MIIR crystal in my backpack. It hurt me to think about it, but I wasn't going to come back. She likely wouldn't be getting the thing back even if I didn't trade it for an implant. She'd done so much to help me. It feels so slimy to betray her like that. Though.. At the end of the day, killing the beast was all that mattered."Merchandise can be replaced."
"...trust can't be.."
"She won't know you sold it- You'll be dead."
Jack flashed me a grin with that chipped tooth, and grabbed my shoulder, pulling me next to him on the couch. He was such a touchy guy, always putting his hands on whoever he was talking to. I imagine this was probably at least partially why he needed a bodyguard.
I sigh softly, internalizing the fact that I'd be hurting one of the few people left who knew my mother and sister. One of the few truly kind people in this city. It didn't feel good. But it had to be done."I'm excited for the show. Never seen a little guy win."
"I'll try not to disappoint.."Jack stood up and stretched, cracking his back like a middle-aged dad. "You're getting cut up on the fourth. Two days from now." He says. "If you back out after that, you're gonna owe me big time.*"
"I'd rather you put a bullet hole between my eyes than pussy out." I retorted grimly, my eyes fixated on a random spot of the dark wooden coffee table.
"Got a 'tude on you don'tcha" He says with a laugh. I don't respond.I knew my story would end in my death. I'd known I'd have a tragic end since I knew how to speak. I was prepared. I was ready. The thought of making that end mean something, the thought of truly accomplishing something, oh it was absolutely intoxicating. I'd known my fate forever, but this was the first time I'd faced it head-on. The first time I'd been truly ready. Running opposite the tracks towards the train instead of allowing it to catch up and crush me. Sprinting, head on, with a nuclear bomb strapped to my chest.
I found myself thinking of the wingless fairy I'd seen. The one who'd killed that hound, the way they mutilated their hands without a second thought to deliver the killing blow. They had an aura of the most pure unbridled rage. I always knew you could funnel your emotions into your codes, use it to power your magic. I'd just never seen anyone truly do it before. I wouldn't have magic to help me like they did. All I would have is luck.Existing within Jack's vicinity was tolerable at best. I don't think he ever stops talking. I found myself wishing the surgeon had also implanted a mute button into the guy. It was hard to focus on removing a particularly stubborn patch of dried-on sauce from a white plate while having to listen to his rambling about being conned out of some horrendous amount of money thanks to a cheating blackjack player. I could hear his voice through the wall while I was trying to shower. My ears being filled with water did not help. I couldn't try to read any of Rayleigh's books with his incessant talking about how he managed to shoot a fly out of the air with his gun three years ago.His rambling was cut short at around five P.M.The door burst open, Rayleigh limped heavily into the living room, closing the door behind him, the chains and metal in his pockets rattling with each step. He had to grab the furniture to keep his balance. His black boots leaving bloody footprints in his wake. There was a grim look in those shimmering green eyes of his. It was hard to tell at first considering the darkness of his attire, but I soon realized that he was damp. And when the light caught his coat at the right angle, I could see that it was soaked with blood. A second later I caught a scent, he smelled of burning flesh.He took a heavy seat on the step up to the kitchen, grabbing his leg and hissing in pain. He unzips the pant leg of his cargo pants, pulling it off and revealing his injury. He had a spike through his leg, barbed, orange hot and rapidly cooling. He'd managed to brute force teleport here despite the jinuzium absorbing a good amount of his magic. And he'd done it despite the thing literally cooking his flesh. The entry wound was charred black. I was stunned. That was exactly like the barbs used to subdue my sister and myself all those months ago. He coughs and spits blood on the floor. "Jack, can you get the oven mitts.." He says, groaning. And for once, Jack was silent as he ran into the kitchen and grabbed a pair of pink oven mitts out of a drawer. He hands them over to Rayleigh who puts them on and grabs the metal. The oven mitts start to smoke after a second of him yanking, but he doesn't stop. With the sickening sound of ripping muscle and a popping tendon, he removes the spike from his leg and throws it down with a clatter.I rush up to him, getting a closer look at his injury. That spike definitely cooked the bone right beneath his knee, if all that tissue was dead it'd have to be removed. He moved his hand over the injury like he was about to do a healing spell. The second I realized this, a pang of concern caused me to grab his arm "Stop-"
He looks at me, confusion painted across his face. "Wh-"
"Your leg- that spike probably cooked the bone, you can't just use a normal healing spell, the dead bone will rot inside of you."
"..."
"Please- let me help you-"
"Have I got to cut my leg off-"
"No.. you shouldnt have to. You just need to remove all the dead tissue before you use any regeneration codes."
"...Fuck me.. Ugh." He whips his head back and groans. After closing his eyes for a second he looks down at me. "You seem to know plenty about medic shit, how are you with a scalpel, Cameron?"
"..Book smart.. never done surgery."
"You'll probably do better than I would- Jack! Go grab my tools-" And Jack wordlessly ran off into the hallwayI was taken off-guard by this, he trusted me to dig around in his leg? I suppose it was a choice between me or Jack, and from that point of view I got it. I would trust myself to do surgery over him any day.Jack came back with a box of tools, not all of which were even surgical tools, but I'd have to make due. "Go on, I'm ready." Rayleigh said before he bit one of those pink oven mitts. I look into the box, and pull out a paring knife for cooking. I suppose it'd work. The massive four-armed man closed his eyes tight, waiting for me to start.I was squeamish sure, but I wasn't about to let the houndhunter's wound get worse, I wasn't going to let him walk around on such a gruesome injury. I made an incision around the charred entry wound, removing the burnt chunks of meat. He made a low growling noise, his body tensing and he arches forward slightly, gripping his coat so tight that his claws start ripping through the fabric. Even so he doesn't tell me to stop.I continued, going deeper, the flesh around that spike had been cooked, even after the char was gone, there was still dead tissue for about a three inch radius around the injury. It all had to go. I fought back welling nausea as I reached the bone and my suspicion was proved correct. The bone was charred black, and it was dry. I wouldn't be able to cut it with the knife, I'd have to use something else.. My eyes caught the handle of a pair of large pliers, which I grabbed. Rayleigh was showing an impressive amount of willpower to stay so still.I grabbed the pliers, and positioned them over the bone, inside the hole in his leg, and with all my strength I closed those two handles. The bone snapped, splintered, and this caused Rayleigh to flinch and make a muffled pain noise. It made me flinch and I stared up at him, his eyes were open and he was staring at what I was doing. The splinter had likely gone down his leg, into the viable living bone, it made me shudder to look at. "I'm s-sorry it'll heal- I need to remove the dead parts." I say, his stare scaring me slightly. He closed his eyes again, a look of understanding on his face. I continued, moving the pliers down to the bone to the end of the dead portion, and I forced the handles together, Rayleigh visibly cringing as I did so. The dead bone was free. I pulled out the pieces, and once I was fully done with the wound, his leg was only being held on by bits of skin and thin strips of muscle. It was disgusting to look at, but now it was ready to be regenerated.
First the bone, regrowing, rebuilding itself, pulling material from the surrounding tissue. Muscles, sinew, repairing themselves, connecting his leg, and growing skin again, in a nasty scar.Once I was done, Rayleigh let out a long sigh of relief, letting the oven mitt fall from his mouth. His teeth had put holes in the thing. He took a few deep breaths, and inspected the wound. "Thank you.." he breathes out. "My guts have seen daylight a few times, but I don't think I've ever had to do that.."
"Magic can't reverse death.. It won't bring dead flesh back to life, all it does is regrow and repair. Watering a plant won't make a dry brown leaf turn green again."
"Ah.. I suppose that makes sense."He tries to stand, gripping the counter, and slowly putting weight on his leg. "Ogh.. shit.." he says, standing with only slight unsteadiness. "There's nerve pain, but I think I'll be alright.." Rayleigh grabs his pant leg and puts the thing back on, zipping it up. "Where'd you learn to be a medic?"
"Taught myself, mother got a burn like that, not as big, a nasty cooking accident. We had to go to a woman named Hilda and have her heal it. From then on I wanted to learn to do that.. Bought a medical MIIR book from her, and memorized every page."
"Impressive." he says, taking his bloody jacket off and tossing it aside.
"What happened anyway?" I ask, referring to the blood all over him. It obviously wasn't his. It had a strong chemical scent to it.
"I killed two jackolyns, this is all from the second of the two. When I slit her throat I happened to be right underneath her, and got drenched in blood."
"Ah.. I thought hounds couldn't die from a cut to the throat?"
"They usually don't. Their blood vessels will constrict and redirect blood flow to other veins and arteries if they get cut. I had my blade coated with a poison which stops that response." Rayleigh looked tired. So I didn't respond past a simple "Ah.. interesting."The days passed quickly, and before I knew it, I was being brought through a particularly sketchy set of alleyways by Jack to go meet the surgeon, who I'd learned was named Aeix. And an hour later, I was standing before a man dressed in a well-made white surgeon's coat. The building smelled clean due to an incredibly powerful air filtration system. The doctor looked me over, one of his eyes looked to have been replaced with an electronic camera. I hadn't believed things like that were possible until I saw it. Even so I made a point not to stare. The surgeon was tall and thin, his skin was dark and his braided hair adorned with blue MIIR crystal beads. He had sharp features and his one biological eye was a bright pale blue. If I hadn't been told about him by Jack, I wouldn't have been able to tell whether this person was a man or a woman considering the androgyny of his features. He was striking to say the least, he didn't look like anyone who lived here.
"He's tiny." he says, referring to me and looking over at Jack. His iridizuli accent is thick and his voice is deep. "Show me your arm." He says, and I roll up my hoodie sleeve to show him. He stares for a moment. "The weapon may be too big for you. It will fit, but it won't be pretty."
"If all goes right, I should only have to use it once. I don't mind."
He already knew my story. He nods in response. "Do you have the payment?"
"Yes. I do." I say, reaching into my bag and pulling out Hilda's crystal. I handed it over, a cold sadness washing through me as he took it and placed it on a desk.
He leads me through a door and into an operating room. There was an operation table in the center of the room. He gestures for me to go sit on the table, and I do so. The metal is cold and makes me shiver.
"Take your shirt off." he says while he readies his tools. I do as he says, removing my hoodie, and then my shirt. My skin erupts in gooseflesh from the cold and sterile air.
Aeix made his way over to me, putting his hands on my shoulders, then forcing me to lay down on the table. What he did next caught me off guard. He began putting restraints on my arms and my legs, strapping cold leather binds over my bare midriff. "Wh-what's that for?"
"To stop you from struggling." he says, pulling one of those straps uncomfortably tight.
"But aren't I going to be unconscious??"
"Not unless you cough up another one of those crystals. Anestesia is expensive, especially here."
I didn't know what to say, I felt my heart drop and my stomach turn, I was essentially about to be tortured. I wasn't going to back out, I would get through this, but that didn't stop the dread from sinking in, filling me with nausea. Aeix's fingers touch my hair, and the very next moment I am blinded by a piece of soft velvety black cloth being tied over my eyes. The anticipation of the first incision was sickening. I laid there, my body shaking from the cold and the dread.
The cold metal bit at my skin, my dread popping like a balloon, it was starting, the pain shooting through my nerves as the surgeon Aeix slid the blade through my skin like butter, I tensed against the restraints but I was truly immobilized.
My breathing began to quicken as I struggle, the fact that I couldn't move was setting in. It was setting off jolts of spiking panic in my brain, I couldn't move. No matter what I tried, I could not move. I opened my mouth to protest, or move just to give into my own self-preservation instincts. My mouth was filled with a piece of wood, which I bit down on near immediately. I couldn't pull away from the feeling of my arm being dug into, the meat of my limb being flayed apart and spread, clipped to the sides, the tingling ache of my muscles being manipulated. It was truly horrific, I wanted nothing more than for it to be over. As I laid there, hoping against hope, enduring the agony; my mind started to wander, consciousness seeming to escape my body, it felt as though I was dying, slipping away, falling into a darkened bliss.I awoke, my body resting on cold concrete, propped up against a wall. My head was pounding, and a dull ache ran through my right arm. I was still shirtless, and I could feel the cold air on my bare skin. I opened my eyes, my ears picking up the garbled sounds of speech, I could make out Jack's voice, but I wasn't sure what he was saying. I rubbed my eyes with my left hand, I was still afraid to move the other.
"It looks like your little gladiator to be is beginning to wake." I hear Aeix's voice cut through a short bout of silence. I understood him clearly. I heard his boots tapping on the concrete as he walks over, kneeling down to inspect me with that mechanical eye. "It seems he hasn't suffered any major brain damage." he says to Jack. "Really, I do apologize for the mishap. It wasn't my intention to make him fall unconscious. "
"Am.. am I ok.." the words fall out of my throat, laced in drowsiness.
"You will be fine, Cameron." The surgeon says to reassure me. His accent was nice to listen to. I found it mildly comforting.
As my vision cleared, I look down to my side where my arm was resting. It was red, swollen, the skin stretched uncomfortably tight, an irritated red scar running the length of my forearm. Right under my hand was a dark black tatoo, a MIIR code. The sight of it made me cringe.Aeix speaks up. "Why don't you attempt to use it, I'd like to know sooner rather than later if it needs any adjustments."
I nod and stand, my arm dangling at my side. It was noticeably heavier. "How.. exactly do I.."
"To activate it, use that code I've tattooed on your arm."
"Ah.." I raise my arm, sending jolts of nerve pain and discomfort shooting through the limb. I wince in pain, but I do as the surgeon says. I perform the code, clenching my teeth and bracing myself.
One-way Ticket to Hell [Clip 7]
My eyes fixate on the viscera before me. I am numb, I am still. The world of my view is slow. It was as if time had stopped. It happened so fast. My mind could not process the speed in which my hand had been intact one second, and mutilated the very next. Hanging by bits of skin and sinew, fingers ripped from one another, bones snapped. Between the strips of gore was the shine of glistening metal. The blade that had come forth from my arm, nearly matching it in length. It was smooth and a dark black with a blue undertone to the metal. It was unlike anything I'd ever seen.
Drip… Drip… Drip… I heard as my blood hit the floor.
All at once the agony hit me like a bolt of lightning straight from the heavens, I doubled over as the searing aching in my arm overtook my will to stay standing. My scream slowly ebbed and shrank to pathetic whispers as I drop to the ground. Horrific. That was the only word I could think to use to describe this thing I’d had put into my arm. Oh god. It hurts.
I hear footsteps in front of me. “Seems to be in working order. It’s particularly costly on the body to use considering your size. Pull the blade back into place by performing the code once more.” I hear Aeix say while he looms over me. Once my brain processes what he’s said, I perform the code, and just as fast as the blade had exploded through my hand, it retracts, leaving my arm bloody and shredded at the end, my skin swollen and stretched, even more red than it had been before.
Aeix stares down at me for a few seconds, before getting down on one knee, and performing a regeneration code on my arm. The tingling jolt of MIIR through my mangled flesh made me jump, but I felt the familiar sensation of stretching tissue, regrowing and repairing itself. I relaxed and allowed him to heal me, his touch was far more gentle this time. Within a minute my arm was back to normal, albeit scarred. Aeix was incredibly skilled in healing codes, which I suppose makes sense considering his profession as a surgeon.The contrast allowed me to tolerate the aching discomfort of the metal under my skin. Since experiencing the blade activate, the actual implant itself wasn’t too bad to live with whilst it was within my flesh. I barely remember the walk back to Rayleigh’s house, I was shaking, still somewhat shocked from the operation. My hoodie covered my arm completely, and there was no way to know what I’d done given that it stayed on.
Rayleigh was asleep when we arrived back. His eyes softly closed, his large frame curled into the fetal position on the sofa. It was almost humorous. He looked so calm and peaceful. His ear twitched as we walked by, but he didn’t stir. I gently went on back to my designated room, and laid down, taking care not to jostle my arm too much. It still ached, and it was uncomfortably swollen and tense.
I’d gone behind Rayleigh’s back. I’d broken my promise to Hilda. It didn’t feel good. But that did not matter now. It wouldn’t matter once this was all over. Once I’d served my purpose. I remember staring up at the darkness above me. I wondered what death would be like. I know the souls of those past don’t stay here, they go somewhere, somewhere I don’t know too much about. Below. The place beyond the vale. An endless black void filled with dreams. That is what I was told about as a child. That those beyond us are compassionate, kind, that they’d care for my soul, give me my very own dream, I’d be reunited with all those I’d lost. At least, this is what my father told me. I was questioning whether or not this was a white lie to comfort a terminally vulnerable child about their inevitable early demise; or the truth.
Regardless of what the afterlife has in store for me, I intend to embrace it with open arms once I am done here. Once The fire in me burnt out. That hateful blaze within every cell of my body was the only thing keeping me alive. The only thing fueling my instincts, the only thing keeping me on my toes. The only thing stopping me from rotting where I lay. Even as I prepared myself for death; the fire in me was hungry. If I were given the opportunity to live, to fight, to kill, to feed the blaze, I would take that opportunity, faster than the blink of an eye. Oh I would. I know I would. It was a fleeting dream of mine, to be like the wingless fairy I’d seen slay a hellhound in the street. A dream the more logical side of me knew I’d never achieve.
I don’t remember falling asleep. And I don’t remember waking. I only remember staring up at the tall figure looming over me in the dark, silhouetted against the soft dim of the hall. Eyes reflecting the daylight that doesn’t reach my room. I’d have been afraid of Rayleigh if I wasn’t so sure he didn’t want me to die. He was intimidating, well over two feet taller than me, strong, and bitter. He gets down low and sets a bowl on the floor in front of me. Presumably breakfast. I thank him and look down at the bowl. It’s too dark to see what I’d been served with. I pick it up. The bowl was pleasantly warm in my hands.
My mind was sent back to years previous, visions of home. Sitting with my father and sister, playing board games and cards, painting pictures and listening to Jayla recite her poetry, while holding a warm bowl of whatever mother had made for dinner that night. Jayla and dad painting each other’s nails, decorating their wings. My mother finding bugs in the house and asking me to put them outside. Even though we were the same age, Jayla was always like a big sister to me. She would teach me things. I learned my first MIIR codes from our father, and after that it was her who helped me. I learned to read second, and she was my teacher. Kind and patient, albeit abrasive at times. I remember reading Jayla’s writing while learning, she wrote of fantastical worlds where the people were good and just. Where people rallied together against evil. Where the good ones were strong. Where we could fight back. Where evil was vanquished.
I sat there, on the bare mattress, on my knees. The fondness of the thoughts in my head, it doused the flames of rage in my soul. Replacing it with a deep and powerful creeping despair. Anguish. Longing. I wanted to go back. I wanted it to be that way again. I miss my father. I miss my sister. I miss my mother. I’d never see them again. The life I had before was gone. I only noticed I had been crying when I felt hot tears on my skin.Gone.
Stolen.
Ripped away by a cruel and unjust world without mercy. Survival of the fittest as they say.
Nobody would remember their names once I was gone. It filled me with a terrible sadness and a hot searing anger. Tio, Neila, and Jayla Rooke. Their lives had been erased from existence
My food had gone cold before I could start eating. I took a bite and quickly surmised that the substance in the bowl was oatmeal. It was good even if it was lukewarm. I couldn’t finish the whole bowl, it was too much, and I was still feeling a bit sick from my surgery. I stood, my knees cracking, feeling the familiar uncomfortable pressure in my ankles and toes. I took my bowl to the sink, placing it on the counter in case anybody else wanted the food I hadn’t eaten. Wasting food was the mark of an ungrateful person, and a terrible guest. Viable food at a reasonable price was hard to come by in this city.
Jack wasn’t anywhere I could see. I thought Rayleigh had left as well until I saw movement from his tall form as he dug through a closet in the corner. The room was lit with a pale sunlight from the small window above the sink. It didn’t touch every part of the room, giving everything a dim grey shade. Rayleigh pulled a bag of rice out of the closet, and carried it over to the kitchen, where he measured out a few cups and poured it into a bowl filled with water and began mixing it around. “What was wrong with the oatmeal?” he asks upon seeing my half-full bowl.
“Nothing.. It was good. I’m just not very hungry. Thank you.”
“Ah. I will store the rest.” He says simply, he sets aside his rice for a moment to pour the rest of the oatmeal into a bag and place it in the small cooler drawer under the counter. He then continues to.. wash? the rice without a word. I took a seat on the couch, still watching Rayleigh in the kitchen. Why was he doing that, I wondered. Was it dirty? Whenever I’d seen my mother make rice she would boil it in the saucepan along with the dried vegetables and whatever else she was using. Once Rayleigh was done with his methodical washing of his rice he pulls out this odd looking appliance, it looked like a slow cooker, but a bit rounder and shorter and looked like it was ceramic. It had a crystal embedded into the side to act as a power source.
“You make rice in a slow cooker?”
“..it’s a rice cooker…” he says, with a small disappointed sigh. It sounds like he mutters.. Cracker? Under his breath? What do crackers have to do with rice?
In all honesty I hadn’t known there was even such a thing, you could make it on the stove just as easily. I wonder if anyone out there has a pasta cooker.
“I’ve never seen one of those.”
“I could’ve guessed based on your original question.” he says without turning to look at me.
I don’t say anything in response, his flat bitter tone seeming to have killed the small talk.
I sat in silence for a long while, watching Rayleigh cook.
I couldn’t figure out what he was making, but it smelled good.
“What are you making?” I ask, breaking the silence.
“Nothing specific. Just throwing leftovers together.”
“Ah.. I’ve never smelled anything like it.”
He smiles just a little, seeming to find my ignorance just slightly entertaining. “Southern Mengsecki spices, it’s hard to come by here. It makes sense you’d never had anything similar.”
“You don’t sound like you’re from Mengseck. Are you?” His accent sounded just like my own, but his appearance and demeanor told me otherwise.
“I was born there. I’ve been living here ever since I was thirteen.”
“I assume it wasn’t voluntary, was it.”He sighs deeply, “No it wasn’t. I was born to a kayode man in the Mengsecki military. He was tried for treason and executed. He murdered his commander, and I was caught in the crossfire. I had lived in a military town, and when my father committed his crime, I was targeted by the soldiers. They dragged me from my home, demanding to know where my father had gone. I was a terrified child. I didn’t know where my dad had gone, nor what he’d done. I escaped between interrogations, and they took my fleeing as evidence of my guilt. I was a fugitive. Bimrid was the only place I could reasonably go.”“Ah…” In all honesty I hadn’t expected him to actually tell me. The look on his face told me there was far more history behind those eyes of his, but I’m not going to pry.
He breaks the silence that’d accumulated after a few minutes, “I don’t want you to die, Cameron. I know what you’ve seen has traumatized you. What happened to you has been an example of the horrid and callous disregard for life that this place harbors. Trust me. I know what you’ve gone through. I empathize far better than you know. You need to try to find a way out. I could help you over the border. I’ve done it before. I could get you to one of the border towns, fake a card for you to cross. You aren’t cut out for this. You should take that luck of yours, and go make a life. A real life.”I had to do this. “I am not going to heal. All I’m going to do is rot.” I say, the pitch of my voice lowering involuntarily. I was being truthful. All I was going to do was fester. Allow the decay to creep over me. I need to do this while the wounds are still fresh, while the fire in me still burns.
“Only the dead rot, Cameron.”I guess I was an exception to that rule. Sure I wouldn’t physically begin to decay, sure my body wouldn’t bloat, I wouldn’t be infested with worms and maggots until I went still for the final time. But my soul. Me. I. I would rot. My sense of self would break down, be consumed in the liquefied remains of my dreams, my hopes, and all I loved. It would all be so meaningless. My luck. My chances. It would have been wasted. Cameron Rooke would rot, his body would become hollow, a shell, free to be murdered by any beast looking for an easy snack.I was brought back to my senses by the sound of a bowl being placed on the coffee table in front of me, and Rayleigh sitting next to me. He was such a large man. He had his lower set of arms tucked into his pockets while he used the upper set to hold his bowl and eat. He glanced at me as I took a bite. “I thought you were right handed?”
“..err.. I’m ambidextrous..” I lied. My arm was still aching and swollen. Fat like a gorged maggot. The only thing ensuring my host didn’t find out about the surgery was a thin layer of baggy blue fabric. It made my pulse quicken, but I quickly realized he didn’t suspect a thing. Or at least, I hoped so.Rayleigh’s cooking was wonderful, albeit a bit spicy. My face was red and my nose was running the whole time I was eating, but it was delicious. It was something somewhat similar to chili, over some rice, and with flatbread. It had meat in it. I didn’t eat meat often. Partly because it was often hard to find and expensive, for another reason. Growing up under the threat of being murdered, being eaten, it’s given me a perspective that makes me empathize with the little chunks of flesh in my bowl a lot more than those outside of Bimrid would.
Animal meat wasn’t popular here to say the least. Most food we’d got came from small stands, people growing crops in their own homes, under light spells. They sell what they don’t eat. There were a few large stores, big warehouse buildings where a good forty or so farmers, gatherers, hunters all sell their wares. I never liked going to those places, considering how common it was to see hacked up pieces of other people. They didn’t even have the decency to remove the skin, you couldn’t ignore that it had been part of a human being, likely less than a week ago.Seeing it for the first time as a child is a memory that will always stick with me. Mother had avoided the large warehouse stores whenever she could, but it was winter, and most of the smaller lone farmers had sold out. She couldn’t leave us home alone that day. The store was warm, well-lit, like a marketplace or downtown inside a large building. There were plenty of friendly human shopkeepers, selling mostly vegetables they’ve grown, and non-perishable items. Many sold their food in mason jars or cans, canning machines weren’t too hard to come by.
I’d wandered away from my mother, looking at a stand full of rock candy and taffy, until my eyes were drawn to the back of the store, where the meat was sold. Slaughtered animals, woodland creatures, it was rather costly, something you’d only buy on special occasions. My eyes dart to the other hunks of meat on display at another stand; pale skin wrapped in clear plastic. I took a few unconscious steps closer, my gaze fixating on the cuts across that skin. As I stepped over, involuntarily yet deliberately on my small legs. Like a cat led into a fox’s den by its own fatal curiosity. I was perplexed by the odd organization of those cuts for a moment, until my young brain put the pieces together in an instant.“I HOPE YOU CHOKE”
Displayed in a deep visceral red, each line filled with hatred.My little hands tensed and my arms stiffened as I processed the words carved into the flesh, this was a person, this was a murdered human being, those words were their final act of rebellion. And they were not alone. At that stand alone there had to be at least thirty. I remember my heart aching, beating out of my chest, harder, faster, as my eyes darted to the man behind the counter, tall and scraggly, filthy, hair on his neck, striking orange cat eyes and a malevolent grin of razors. I stumbled backwards, hurting one of my feet but continuing to run, calling out for my mother, running back to the front of the warehouse, my tiny body wheezing and shaking.
That was the very first time I had truly seen what my mother had warned me of. The first time I’d seen where our place in this infested carcass of a city truly was.
I’d later hear of the farms in passing. Farms where genetically modified people were kept in boxes their whole lives, and murdered to be sold in the city, just like this. They couldn’t speak, nor read, nor write. Raised without parents, only grown large enough to produce the most meat in the least amount of time. Their growth accelerated, and culled well before their thirteenth birthday. I hadn’t believed such a thing could exist. I denied it for a while, dismissing it as a myth, or an urban legend. I still don’t fully believe it, but at the same time I don’t fully doubt it. It’s something those creatures are more than capable of.I spent another week with Rayleigh and Jack before I was holding the ticket in my hands. Fighter number seven. Facing Bloodcloak the Brutal. On the sixteenth of September. Three days.
Jack had agreed to take me to the arena on the day of. I had my ticket, the hounds outside the arena wouldn’t kill me before I took my place in the ring, they value their entertainment.
I was particularly quiet on the days leading up to the fight. As confident as I was, I didn’t know what I was doing. I didn’t know if what I was going to do would even work. The beast may just grab my head and crush my skull in its grip. I may be overtaken by the pain of whatever it may inflict upon me. Rendered useless by my own panic. It may rip my arms off, robbing me of my hidden weapon. Disarming me in more ways than one. I may have done all this for nothing. The thought of it didn’t bother me nearly as much as you may have thought. I knew that it was either I try, or I give up. Trying and failing was better than giving up before even having the possibility of success. It would take my heart stopping for me to fail.
I found myself thinking of the afterlife yet again. It felt so close now. Time seemed to slow. I would only be alive for the next few days. I wasn’t sad anymore. My mind was blank yet racing.On the day before the fight, my last day alive, Jack came to me. My door creaking open, early in the morning. Rayleigh had already left for the next few days. Jack bent down to his knees, getting to my level on the bed, and he pulled out a small metal capsule, and a blade. I didn’t speak, only looking at the objects he held, waiting for my silence to make him elaborate.He hands me the capsule, “In this thing is a pill, it’ll take effect in minutes if you chew it. It numbs you to all pain for a few hours. To give you a better chance.” He’d lost the spark in his voice. His tone was solemn and nearly mournful. “And I’ve got this.” He places the blade in front of me. “It belonged to the old shopkeeper. It was the only weapon he owned. I know you’ve got that thing in your arm now, but I figure it’d be fitting to use this to at least give that fucker some paper cuts.”
I picked up the blade and held it in my hands, it looked like steel and jinuzium alloy. It wasn’t as green as pure jinuzium, but it had the iridescent shine to it. It was light and sturdy, well-made, the handle looked to be made of carved bone. “I’ll try my best. Thank you Jack.”
And with that, he stands up, looking down at me with an expression I couldn’t quite read because of the dimness of the room. Looking back on it all, it was probably remorse for sending me off to my death. I held the knife after he left, looking at my reflection in its blade. My face was pale and gaunt. There were bags under my eyes. My hair seemed to have lost its red hue. I looked like a living ghost. I was dirty and my face was oily, I needed to bathe. Or rather, wanted to bathe. I was only going to be alive for one more day, it didn’t really matter if my hair was greasy.I rose to my feet, feeling the pressure, the ache of my malformed joints. I wouldn’t have to deal with it for much longer at the very least. I took my hoodie and shirt off, feeling the cool air on my skin. The sensation of being even partially nude wasn’t something I was very used to. I walked across the hall to the bathroom, bringing my clothing with me. I closed the door then began removing my pants and my boxers and turning on the shower. I waited for the water to get warm before stepping in, feeling the warmth wash over me. I grabbed my dirty clothing off the sink and pulled it in after me, hanging it on a bar to be cleaned. Rayleigh wouldn’t be home for a while. I could go a little while nude in my room while my clothing dried.
I wondered how many times I’d done various mundane things. How many times had I showered, how many times had I gotten dressed. How many times had I done my laundry. How many times have I had a snack. Which time would be the last time? It was something I’d thought about before, but never to this extent. My legs quickly tire, the pressure on my tendons quickly turning to pain, stretching through my foot and forcing me to sit, just as I always did in the shower.
I caught the sound of the front door opening over the rushing water. I figured it was Jack leaving.
I washed my hair, cleaned myself for the final time, soaping up my tail and rinsing it all out, watching the bubbles wash down the drain. Cleaning my clothing, scrubbing my body with my left hand, as my right arm was still weak. The handle squeaked as I turned off the water, I allowed myself to drip for a few seconds before picking up my soaked clothes and wringing them out. I stepped out of the shower and grabbing a towel to cover my lower anatomy while I brought myself and my wet clothes back to my room.I opened the door, and stepped into the cold hallway, only for my head to snap around and my eyes to affix themselves to the tall dark form of Rayleigh standing over me. He had been walking down the hall and I’d walked out in front of him. His eyes were pointed down at my arm. Glimmering in his backlit darkness. “...”
He turns around and walks quickly off down the hall, his footsteps loud and angry. He opens the door to his own room, slamming it behind him. “WHAT DID YOU DO.” I hear, muffled through those walls. We’d been found out. I stumbled into my room, putting my damp clothing on, listening to the garbled sound of Rayleigh’s yelling through the walls.
“M-MAN He WANTED IT- I WAS JUST HELP-”
“That wasn’t HELPING you’re ENABLING him.”
“GH-HJk-” I hear the sound of a thud, and crashing as if something had been knocked over.
“WHAT IF I’D HAVE LET YOU PUT THAT BULLET THROUGH YOUR SKULL THE DAY I MET YOU JACK. WHAT THEN.”
“I’D’VE BEEN BETTER OFF THAT WAY-” I hear the sound of a spell go off, and I don’t hear Jack speak any further.
My breathing quickened, my pulse began to pick up its pace. This would threaten my shot. My chance at getting into that ring. Rayleigh would stop me. I couldn’t have that. I wouldn’t have that. No. I would have to spend my final day alone, I was on my own, my one ally had been compromised.
I picked up my ticket, put the capsule and the knife in my hoodie pocket. I teleported.
Standing out in the rain, inside the skeleton of an old building, the broken walls showing the overcast sky above me. I was shivering. Shivering and cold. Horribly cold. I had nowhere to go. I couldn’t make it to Hilda’s shop in these conditions, the walk was too far, I was too wet. I began walking, as standing still was quickly becoming uncomfortable. I could go to the arena a day early. Yes, that's what I would do. I would show the demons my ticket, ask if I could stay until my time came to fulfill my purpose.
I began walking with a newfound sense of vigor, the wet clothing was making my skin itch, the rain was cold, but I didn’t care. I walked, faster, until I was jogging, then sprinting through the rain until I saw one of those massive sinkholes down to the guts of the city. I stopped at the edge, my chest rising, each breath burning my throat. I tried to teleport down to the bottom of the hole, but my mind was scrambled and the code had failed. I was left dazed for long enough to stumble over the edge of the hole and fall into the depths of the city. I don’t remember hitting the ground, but I remember waking up in a thin puddle of rainwater. I stood up, shaking, freezing, greeted by shooting pain in my ribs. Stumbling back into a wall, slumping down, and performing a regeneration code on my presumably broken bones. I stood, and stretched, to be sure my spell had worked.
Now I had to find the arena. I strained my ears, listening to the echoes of the tunnels, I figured I’d follow whichever way was louder. I was close to the arena. I knew that. Jack had told me about where it was and I knew I was within a block’s distance of it. I begin walking once I determine which path is louder, marching on with determination and vigor through the shallow flooded tunnels. I make another turn, following the sound. And another. The tunnel narrows, and moves up, the floor no longer submerged under a few inches of water. The graffiti is thick here, it's so piled on you could barely read any of it. I found a staircase, rickety and wooden. I’d found the entrance to the arena.
I walked up the stairs, without stopping, without thinking. At the top, I was met with what looked like a particularly large dive bar. In the center of the floor was a huge pit, surrounded by a jinuzium cage. Every patron of the bar was a hellhound, and they were talking amongst each other, drinking, gambling, and smoking. Just seeing them made my heart begin to beat even faster than it already was. The floor creaked as I made my way up to the bar, and looked at the tall hound behind the counter.
It looks down at me, and smiles a wide grin, “What on earth are you doin’ here pipsqueak?” it says while wiping down the counter with a dirty white rag.
I hold up my ticket in response. “I am scheduled to fight here tomorrow. I have no home and request shelter until it is my turn to fight.” I say, willing any and all emotion from my voice.
The beast in human form eyed me for a moment, looking over my ticket. “Hmh. Odd request but I suppose I could help out a little lamb to the slaughter.” He says with a low chuckle. I was mad, but said nothing. I couldn’t die before I killed the beast in the arena. I just couldn’t. It was best not to provoke any of these other hellhounds. It came out from behind the bar and roughly grabbed my right arm, causing me to sharply inhale in pain. I did not fight back as it practically dragged me along, down another staircase and below the floor of the bar, through an incredibly dark and narrow hallway. I saw the shine of his eyes as he turned, and the sound of a jingling keyring. Shortly after the sound of the key turning in the lock made my ears twitch. I was grabbed by my shoulder and roughly pushed into the dark cell where I stumbled and fell to my side. The sound of the door closing and locking rang out.This was it.
The Arena [Clip 8]
I did not sleep. I sat awake, my eyes staring dead forward into the darkness before me. The sounds. I don’t think I will ever forget what I heard that night. I was going to die. I was going to die. I am going to die.
The wails of captured tormented souls around me, locked beneath the city and destined to be forced to die for the entertainment of cruel sadistic creatures, things that make me question if Hell does truly exist.
I would not exist come nightfall tomorrow. Or I’d be waiting to draw a final breath as the poison coursed through my body. They’d allowed me to keep my knife. It makes sense I suppose. They allow any weapons that don’t involve the use of MIIR. Northern guns that run on black powder being the only exception. I doubt Brutal would let me keep it. The thing would rip it from my hands the moment I made a move. Even so, I wanted to hurt that horrible demon with this knife. A knife that belonged to one of its victims. It’d be fitting I thought. Catharsis for not only myself but any lost souls who were watching me. Any other lives cut short, their minds following my every move, waiting, giving me strength to defeat their killer. It was such a comforting thought, that they could see me. They could hear me. Hear my thoughts. Maybe even feel seen by me.
But I know all too well in my rational mind that the dead don’t come back. They don’t watch the living. There was nobody watching me.
I am alone.I am alone and I will remain alone until my racing heart finally stops.I couldn’t tell when the day broke. The fights beyond that wall went on through the night. The death screams of people I would never know haunted me, ringing throughout my cell, cutting sharply through the cheer of the crowd. This place was hell. I was living in hell. Simply being born here is an act of torture. Tensing, curling, the tingling surging through my body, from the cold skin of my face to the tip of my tail. A peaceful life isn’t in the cards for me. It never was. This is the best I could do with the hand I was dealt. The crowd roars and cheers again, signifying the end of a battle.Within the voices surrounding me came the gruff husky tone of a hound speaking to another, “Hmh. in the larger cage over there, that one’s next. Brutal’s sixth opponent was a no-show.”
“That kid who came in here with a ticket yesterday? You want me to take his weapon?”
“Nah, it’ll be more entertaining if he’s got it with him.”
And with that, I heard the sound of my cell door being unlocked. I brought myself into a sitting position, looking to where I heard the sound. I couldn’t see a thing other than a pair of eyes reflecting the faint fleeting light coming from the cracks in the wall. The figure walks towards me, grabbing me by my shoulder and yanking me forward. The feeling sent my mind back to Rayleigh, the way he’d dragged me through that passageway not so long ago. I was inside my mind while being dragged off. Memories all cycling through my mind. This wasn’t my life flashing before my eyes. It was me. I was doing it. I wanted to remember something. Something fondly.At home with Jayla. We were both around fourteen. She’d been trying to get me to touch the weird bug she found, holding it out to me on a napkin. It looked like some sort of flypede, but its colors were split down the middle, bright shimmering green on one side and dull brown on the other. It was a beautiful little thing, though I didn’t want to be bit or stung by it, and shied away as she pushed it towards me.
“It's not biting me, I think it might be about to die or something. I think it's mutated or something.. They’re usually green or brown..”
“Probably. It’s not like it’s uncommon to see funky mutated creatures. I’d honestly say most of the things outside are mutated. I think the bug is very interesting though-”
“Ah!” she drops the bug on the floor, it’d stung her hand, and I immediately went to look at the damage. A small red bump with a little pinprick of blood in the center. “Oh hold on- hold on I just got that book of medical codes-” I say running off to my room, bouncing up the step from the living room to the hallway and swinging around the corner. I skid to a stop a bit too fast and would’ve toppled if I hadn’t grabbed the leg of my nightstand using my tail. I got down to the ground and dug around under my bed for the book, finding it and yanking it out. I skimmed the table of contents for something that’d help.. Hm… bone regeneration, tissue regrowth.. Transplants.. Immuno suppression.. Allergies? Ah! Numbing codes, page forty eight.
I ran back to the living room to see Jayla running the bite under cold water, and my mother trying to coax pink slime off the popcorn ceiling with a broom. We’d shot it up there a couple hours ago using my slingshot and we were hoping mom wouldn’t notice that it got stuck.
“Jay! Come here I’ve got something that’ll help-”
She eyes my book skeptically. “You better not screw up any codes on my hand-”
“I won’t I won’t- this one should be a simple one I think-” I say while turning to the page, only to see it's about four lines long. Not wanting to disappoint, I focused all my energy on memorizing those four lines. Jayla sat down in front of me, holding her swollen hand. I affix my eyes to her injury and perform the code, those symbols etched into my mind so perfectly. She flinches, but then relaxes, holding out her hand and looking at it. “It's still there.. Oh did you numb it? I can’t feel it-”
I gave a deep sigh of relief as the exertion from the spell caught up with me and I felt the momentary buzzing in my brain that always came after performing a complicated spell.
“You know, you’re really good at that. That code looks really long. You really should train to be a medic. I think you’d make a great healer.”
“I’m not really that good I only learn this stuff to help other people around me-”
“Well DUH! Kinda what being a healer is stupid.” She laughed, I loved her laugh. It always infected me with her smile.My mind flashes to an earlier memory.
Leaves and twigs crunching beneath my little shoes. They were uncomfortable, I only wore the in the woods to protect against snakebites on the ankles mostly, that and my parents thought it helped me walk with my deformity. It didn’t make a difference really.
The sounds of birdsong and silence among the still morning. My sister’s wings downturned and pressed against her back, reflecting the small rays that filtered in through the clouds and the canopy; the messy designs she’d painted on them in glitter glue catching the light. I felt a hand on my back and looked up to see my father standing there, nudging me to go a bit faster. I do so, I speed up, a little spring in my step. I trip on my own feet and fall, hands outstretched as I catch myself as I make not a sound. Screams of prey attract predators. I stand up quickly enough, and I look up in time to see my mother’s eyes.
Even so long ago, she had those dark bags beneath her sunken gray eyes. It was as though she never slept. It was as though her face was greyscale. As though my presence took years off her life. The eyes of a weak spirit tortured by the anxiety, the guilt, the worry and dread. The thought of losing me made her sick.I jump to a new memory.
I remember my father ruffling up my hair, my mother smiling her sad smile. I remember coming out into the living room at around ten in the morning, the smell of something sweet on the table. My father was smiling, sitting on the couch, drinking a cup of tea. Mother was with him. That was the first and last time she’d given me such a warm look. Jayla ran from the hallway, jumping on my back and hugging me from behind. “Happy BIRTHDAY!!” She yells, right in my ear, making me tilt my head to the side and grimace. “Aie!- Hey but it’s your birthday too- we’re the same age-”
“Oh but this one’s a SPECIAL birthday for you brother. This one’s gonna be really REALLY cool. I promise you’ll love your present. I helped mom and dad pick it out.” She lets go of me, leaving me curious. “Go have a slice of pie.” My dad says, gesturing to where a freshly baked pie sat on the counter, already cut. A big happy smile spread across my little kid face. As I grabbed a plate and a fork and got myself a slice. Mulberry. I determined at the very first bite. I loved mulberry. We had mulberry trees growing all around our old house. I took my plate over to the table where the others were, sitting on the floor and stuffing my face with pie. I waited patiently, while looking at the others in anticipation.
Jayla climbs over the back of the couch and shimmies her way between mom and dad, putting her hands up and yelling
“CAMERON!”
I stare up at her, confused. Who is Cameron? My mother cuts in. “Your name, sweetie. We’re giving you your name now.” And my father adds “We figured that if you’ve made it this long, you at least deserve a name.”
Jayla beams at me from across the table. “Do you like it?”
“...” I couldn’t respond through both the mouthful of mulberry pie, and the lump in my throat. So all I did was hug her. Cameron. I suppose it fits. I was just happy to finally have a name.There is one more memory I land on, fixate on.
Relive.
Sitting on the floor in our living room. The house is dark save for our TV. I’m sitting between my father and sister, all of us in a nest of pillows. I don’t remember what we were watching, but it was a Mengsecki movie, about people living better lives than us. Where the main conflict of the movie was a missing cat. Each frame was drawn by hand, full of vivid color. Music like nothing I’d ever heard here. The story followed the cat trying to find their way back home after being separated after wandering onto an airship while chasing a moth. The cat made its way through beautiful wilderness, a land you could describe as nothing short of Eden itself. Old forests of ancient trees and emerald moss, ferns and flowers, babbling brooks filled with fish and frogs. Through small towns where everyone was alive. Where the small cobblestone streets smelled of herbs and food from the local vendors. The film had a silent protagonist as the cat only spoke of their longing for home through the look in their eyes. Through flashbacks, memories of being curled in the lap of an old woman. The warmth. The blankets around me. The comforting embrace of my family. We were together. I was safe. I was okay. We were all safe. There was nothing wrong. Nothing to worry about. Nothing to fear.
We were all going to be okay. We’ll be okay.I felt tears welling in my eyes, only for me to quickly wipe them away with my sleeve. I saw only dirt beneath me. No more colors. No more music. No more warmth. Dirt and blood. The stench of death all around me. Suffocating. My hearing cuts back in. The cheering the yelling. The beasts want their bloodshed. I wrench my head up to look at the gate before me. And with that, I take a step. Then another. And one more. Gripping my blade. Gripping it so tight my fingers might break. I opened that gate. And the sickly yellow light flooded my vision. The sight of the cage, the pit, the crowd all cheering.
The Arena.
And before me.
The Monster.Dressed in dirty red. Ugly and patched. That coat looked as though it was made of skin. Tanned into leather. The red hue inconsistent as though each piece was dyed separately. A disgusting display of artistic brutality.
The thing was grinning. Showing all its teeth. It looked old. Strong brows and dark wrinkles under the eyes. Those eyes. Staring me down with nothing but hunger. Staring into me, its mind working, pondering how it planned to kill me.I was here. This was it. Before I let my mind wander more, I took the pill from its capsule, popped it into my mouth and chewed it. I took a swig from my little metal flask of water which was warm and stale from the heat and bitter from the pill. I felt tingling on my tongue, down my throat, radiating to the rest of my body, invading my brain and making me light headed for just a moment, a small wave of nausea threatening to overtake me.I stood even so. I stood my ground. I stood strong and looked that beast in its eyes. The warmth I’d felt. The safety. The comfort. It was stolen. It was STOLEN.
STOLEN BY THIS THING BEFORE ME.
RIPPED AWAY. THIS WAS THE MOMENT. THE CULMINATION OF WHAT MY LIFE HAS BECOME. THIS IS MY GOAL MY PURPOSE. I AM HERE NOW. I WILL TRY. I WILL TRY AND OH GOD I BELIEVE I CAN. I CAN DO IT. I CAN FULFILL THIS PURPOSE. I AM A MARTYR. I AM HUMANITY. I AM FIRE. I AM ALIVE.The searing images of my sister’s body being torn in two and eaten by that beast surged into my mind's eye. Juxtaposed it was, next to all the memories of her previous. Of her laughing. Of us playing as children. Drawing. Singing. Of her smile. Of the pride in my mother’s eyes. The hope she represented. The promise of freedom. Her acceptance letter to the Academy. Her warm embrace slipping away from me.All because of that thing. ALL BECAUSE OF THAT THING. ALL BECAUSE OF IT. I AM NOT ALONE I AM NOT ALONE I AM NOT ALONE. I AM DOING THIS FOR ALL OF THOSE OF THE PAST I’LL NEVER KNOW. ALL OF THOSE OF THE FUTURE I HOPE I’LL SAVE. I DO THIS FOR YOU ALL. OH GOD IF YOU ARE REAL ALLOW THE DEAD TO SEE ME. ALLOW THE SOULS OF THOSE CUT SHORT TO SEE ME. LET THEM HEAR ME OH PLEASE.
And with that, the bell rang out. My world slowed. The thing shifts forms, transforming to that all too familiar grotesquely stretched body. Massive and undulating, walking low to the ground, a smile on its face. A smile. But no recognition in its eyes. Not even a hint. It didn’t even know who I was.The fire in me was back the fire it was back, it was burning so very hot so very bright in me. I wanted to kill that thing. I wanted to rush forward and drive my blade into its throat. I wanted to gouge out its eyes and scream, scream until my throat went raw and I shredded my own lungs, eviscerated my insides with nothing but my own rage. I wanted my longing for this revenge to overcome me, I wanted it to control me, I wanted it to take me. I wanted to belong to that feeling so very badly. And yet I resisted. It took all the strength I had in me. I resisted that urge and I stood. I kept my feet planted on that one spot, despite the discomfort, despite the pain, despite the anger. I had to wait. I had to wait for the right moment. I had one chance and I had to make it count.The beast drew near, its disgusting fingers spreading over the concrete floor with each step, furless skin of its digits seemingly stained red. It stank of chemicals of booze of blood and piss. I wanted to gag. I stood there and I waited, I waited for a moment to strike. It would try to eat me alive. I knew it was going to try to eat me alive. All I had to do was be lucky enough to not have it break my implant before I got close enough to it’s brain to strike. I wouldn’t feel a single thing it did to me, and I took great solace in that.The beast struck. It grabbed me round my middle and squeezed, forcing out a yelp I hadn’t intended. The feeling of its disgusting hands on me sparked awful memories, memories of the phantom pain in my guts where that barb had once been. Flashing visions of the blood on that concrete floor in the sewer on that day. My surroundings seemed to distort as my breathing sped up, my pulse quickens somehow even faster than it already was. I didn’t drop my knife. I held it firm. The beast still hadn’t taken it from me. And under the cheering I heard it speak to me.
“Go on.. Cut me~” it whispers. The sound of its voice in my ear makes my skin crawl, fills me with yet another wave of welling rage as I fought the urge to struggle, to fight, to strike.It reels back into a sitting position and puts its other hand around my legs.
“Go on, what’s the matter.. Aren’t you scared?” I say nothing, I stare daggers into that animal’s eye. Hatred. That thing. I was about to be murdered by something evil. Something truly evil. I needed to take it down with me. My skin was crawling and I was only dreading what was to come.It smiled that sickly grin, those moving teeth swinging in their sockets, as it began to twist me.
Bending my body far beyond how far it should go, I felt my flesh begin to stretch, begin to tear and my tendons begin to pop, but there was no pain. Discomfort sure, but no pain. My eyes were locked forward, staring dead ahead.I felt my spine snap. I couldn’t feel my legs anymore. I couldn’t feel them. I didn’t care what damage I received. This was the last thing I’d need my body for. The monster opened its mouth and I watched as its teeth flexed forward. It bit down on my legs which I could no longer feel. Its tongue wrapped around my middle, tight, the way a snake suffocates a rat. The slick flesh was touching my bare skin under my hoodie. I wanted more than anything in that moment to writhe, to struggle, to scream, to slice this creature’s disgusting tongue from its mouth as the nausea came back in full force. But I didn’t. I held my breath. And I remained still. I remained still as it began to swallow me. Pulling my legs inside its throat, I couldn’t breathe.Oh god, oh god oh god. No no no.. no no no.. I can’t do it I’m afraid I’m afraid no. no no I can’t be afraid I’m not afraid no this isn’t me this isn’t me, it isn’t no. No, I am not afraid. This panic this is from my primal most instincts, my body is trying to save me, trying to make me fight, make me flee. I wouldn’t listen to it. I wouldn’t have any of it. I wouldn’t let it show on my face. I was so sure I was so set, what on earth is making me falter this way. I want to be home again, I want to be home again under those blankets, I want to be with them again. I want peace, I want quiet and I want comfort. I want to be dry and I want to be warm and I want to be loved.
The tears were fighting to come back but I had to keep them in. I had to stay strong. I had to do this. I had to do this. I had to do it. I would do it. I would do it. The walls closing in. I couldn’t move, I couldn’t breathe. Teeth. Teeth. Teeth. I was being eaten I was being eaten alive and above me. Above me. Above me was its brain. Just behind that thin layer of slick flesh and thin bone.. I could end it. I could end it I could end it. I could end it. I could win, I was going to win, I was going to do it, I was going to kill it. It all came down to this. This moment. This final moment. This was it. This was it. This was it. It was about to be over. How would it end. How would I end it. I still had my blade. That shopkeeper’s knife. Are you watching me now? Do you see me now? Do you all see me? Can you hear me? Are you here for me? All those all those all of you all of those this creature this beast, this thing, all of you who’ve died this way. Who’ve fallen victim. Are you there. Are you there for me. Do you exist. Are you gone? Please be here for me, I want to believe in you, please see me. I want you to see me. Jayla are you there? Can you see me Jay? Can you hear me? Are you listening? I’m going to go home soon Jay. I’m going to go home soon.And to end the silence was the sound of my blade slicing through the roof of the beast’s mouth, the pop of a tendon and the sound of a growl all around me, the thing lurched and gagged on my limp body. It was going to take my knife.
no no No No NO. NO.
I pull my arm back faster than I thought possible, and with both hands on the handle and all the strength in my body I drove this blade up through its skull, I felt it crack, through the soft gore of its brain. I needed more more more more strength, why couldn’t I have been stronger. This was for you. I put all my effort, I gritted my teeth so hard I felt them crack, I felt my jaw pop, I gripped my hands together so tightly on the blade I felt my nails dig into my skin and draw blood. For all of you. For everyone. Please see me. Hear me. And through the handle of the blade I felt it. Vibrations. Vibrations of the flesh the metal was touching. I felt its pulse through that handle. Warmth washed over my hands as blood poured from the wound. Blood I’d never been so glad to see, blood that made my heart skip a beat, blood that made my eyes go wide. I felt the beast twitch. I felt its pulse go flat and still through the handle of my blade. I’ve done it, I did it, did you see it? And as its body went limp and hit the floor, I fell with it. I’d served you. I’d served all of you. I was done now. I was done and I could go home. I can see you again. I can see you all again. You don’t have to worry anymore. We can live in the Eden of my dreams. Somewhere where there is no pain, where there is no death, no more fear, and there is no dread. Oh please, I want to go there. I want to live there. I want to see you there. I want to. I want to. I want to leave this place. I’m ready now. I can go now. Euphoria. Calm. Finality.
It was over.
And I was smiling.
Delayed Fate [Clip 9]
Not a thought was in my mind whilst I lay trapped inside the mouth of the dead beast. My eyes stared forward at the disgusting bloodsoaked flesh around me. Thick rays of light from the arena shining in past its limp teeth, casting a sick yellow hue on my uncomfortable surroundings. The mental silence seemed to last for an eternity as I did absolutely nothing. It was as if I was in limbo. I was dead to myself for that moment. I had expected to die so confidently that the simple fact that I was still alive hadn’t registered.The feeling of the hellhound’s corpse (and myself) being dragged out of the arena is what brought me back to reality. Was I dead? No, that's stupid! I was right here, they just didn’t notice I was still alive. The lights went out as they dragged the thing off to a dark room. The air was warm and heavy and I smelled rot over the chemicals in the lynidae’s blood. It was then when I remembered why I’d been so sure I would die. Hellhound blood. It was poisonous. It would get in the springblade exit wound. The springblade I hadn’t even used.
There was the sound of a door creaking closed and with that the footsteps I heard ceased. They were gone. I was here. I was. Oh I was alive. I wasn’t condemned, at least not the way I thought I’d be. This place was swarming with hounds and once they found me they’d surely kill me. I didn’t really have an emotional reaction to this information. I hadn’t truly internalized it just yet.I only had one chance to die painlessly. The pill was still taking effect. I still had that chance. I reached forward and wrapped my fingers around the jaw of the dead hound, and began to pull. Pull myself forward. Drag my paralyzed lower half from the throat of the beast. Out. The awful wet squelching made my face twist with disgust. Quickly cooling blood and saliva was all over me. The exhaustion stilled my body the moment I freed myself from those jaws. My discomfort only worsened when I felt warmth as my hand pressed into something warm outside of the mouth of the beast. Warm and writhing. Tiny worms, feverishly gorging themselves on the rotting flesh beneath me. Maggots. A choked noise escapes me as I squirm away from the rot and gore in the darkness. I would need the use of my legs if I was to get away from this. I needed to focus. I needed to focus. Focus.I attempted to bend myself into an upright position, try to find something among the dark to grab onto, my hands tense and twitching, knowing that the greasy wet fabric I was touching likely belonged to a partially liquefied corpse. My fingers make their way up, cautiously gripping, feeling, until I find something I can grab. Hooking my fingers into some sort of hole in something hard and sturdy, albeit moist and covered in rotten oily residue. The warm writhing of maggots brushing against my opposite arm forces my eyes to screw shut, tight. I pull myself up, and feel whatever I’m holding onto shift with my weight, pulling something near free from the mass of rotten flesh, my thumb brushes against something familiar. Teeth.. Human teeth.. Meaning my fingers are hooked into the eye sockets of a skull. I couldn’t. I couldn’t. No, I couldn't stop to dwell on this. No I had to focus. Focus on keeping my mind as blank as I possibly could, trying as hard as I could, to keep those tears from coming back. The heat in my face threatening to bloom forth and overtake me. I couldn’t have that. I couldn’t be distracted. I had to swallow the lump in my throat and the welling bile along with it.
I kept my fingers rooted on that spot holding myself up, until I felt tiny legs prickling into my fingers, scurrying crawling up my arm, like I’d disturbed an ant’s nest, buzzing, biting, I couldn’t feel the pain due to the anesthetic in my system of course, but I knew what was happening and all at once I felt the panic rising in my chest yet again and oh how badly I wanted to scream in that moment. But I couldn’t I could not let the panic consume me. The ringing in my brain, the alarms going off making me tense, it was a distraction. If I didn’t heal my spine the rot would consume me. I could feel the bugs crawling over my skin, seeming to examine my very much living flesh. Oh god how I wanted to do something, to wipe them all away to get up, to run, but I couldn’t, I had to focus and I had to heal my broken spine or I would not escape.
And with all my will I stilled myself, I slowed my breathing, and I took my mind somewhere else. To my bedroom, staring up at the ceiling, listening to the patter of rain outside. I recalled the regeneration code, performing the first line, then the second, feeling the tingling sensation around my lower back begin to bloom and spark outward, and suddenly I could feel my legs again, I could feel the bugs burrowing into them.
With my newfound mobility I kicked and squirmed away and crawled out of the disgusting mess, tumbling down the pile until I felt solid ground, concrete coated in a thick layer of slimy decaying residue. I got to my feet, and stumbled forward, hands outstretched, until I felt a wall, I walk along it until I reach the corner, and from there I press my back against the wall and slide down to the ground, immediately feeling over my legs, ripping the remaining bugs off me and healing any small scratches I’d sustained.
Oh my god. I was actually still alive. It hit me for a second time as I curled up, putting my head between my knees. I was alive. And that means I’ll probably have an even worse death in store for me once the hounds find me. I was already beginning to develop a headache from the effort it took to do magic here near that jinuzium cage. I wouldn’t be able to teleport out
I’d killed what seemed to be a very popular figure for them. They’d likely be mad, want to avenge the death of one of their own kind. I was dazed. Just from how completely and utterly unexpected this situation was. I was supposed to be dead or dying right now, in that pile of corpses. But I wasn’t. I was fine. Though I doubt I’d be able to escape from here with all the lyns about. Tired. Mind scrambled. All I did was just sit there. Sit there in that corner. Staring at nothing. Thinking of everything. Trying so hard to ignore the oppressive stench of rot. I was used to the smell of death, growing up here it's pretty much unavoidable. But this was a thick miasma of humid decay the likes of which I’ve never experienced.
That pill would only remain effective for so long. There was a time limit. And if I didn’t die before that time limit was up, that’d mean I was going to feel it. Oh god I didn’t want to feel it. What awful things they’d do to me. They would torture me. They would tear me apart. They’d rip off my limbs and my tail, they’d break all my bones and eat me alive. Maybe if I were lucky one would just grab my head and squeeze. It’d be lights out in seconds if they crushed my skull. Oh that does sound nice compared to the former options.I’m suddenly ripped away from my morbid introspection as a hand from the darkness grabs my shoulder tightly, causing me to make a small noise of panic and surprise, all the hair on the back of my neck and on my tail standing on end. I am pulled forward and up, the figure gripping me with both hands and easily lifting me up off the ground. Whoever..whatever was holding me had to be at the very least three times my weight. There was no use in struggling. I stayed stock still, stiff as this thing in the form of a man pressed me against its chest. I hated how human it felt. Deceptive. Twisted monsters that use a familiar form like a mask.
“You be quiet now- you hear me? You shut your mouth or I snap your neck.”
I respond with silence.
“I’m taking you out of here.”
“Huh??” I ask, looking up at the beast holding me, despite the fact that I couldn't really see it. I’m greeted with the feeling of a finger over my mouth and a sharp “Shhht!” at which point I promptly shut up.It took me out of the room, the smell of rot fading. It repositions me, one of its hands underneath my knees and the other at my upper back. I could see light shining in occasionally between the gaps of well-worn wood. My captors eyes reflecting in the dark. I could hear its heartbeat, quick, its movement somewhat frantic. Was it afraid? What was a beast like that afraid of? Having its kill stolen?
I couldn’t see where it was taking me. But suddenly it moved me again, while trying to fit through some sort of gap in the wall. It set me down, still holding my shoulder, nudging me in an attempt to get me to walk forward. I abided, taking careful steps, not knowing or seeing where I was going. What use was there in resisting, especially here, there was nowhere for me to go. I turn to look up at my killer-to-be, the beast was a shadow in the dark and cramped space. Eyes reflecting, like two silvery coins against the void. It looked as though it could barely fit, but didn’t seem to be having any issues moving at all. It didn’t scare me. Looking death in its face had stopped phasing me the moment I had come to terms with my purpose.
I already knew my fate.A moment later, the hound placed its other hand on me, gripping my shoulders tightly, I felt the buzzing sparking radiation from his fingertips, and the very next second my world went white, it’d teleported with me, and my vision came too faster considering I hadn’t been the one to perform the spell. The feeling of rain softly on my skin alerted me to this. We were in the street, and the beast was still disoriented.
I don’t really know what made me do it, what came over me in that moment. But I ran, I chose a direction and I ran, as fast as I could. Though it didn’t last for long, my escape attempt was cut short by the massive thing practically tackling me to the ground, knocking the wind out of my lungs and causing me to cough and gag and wheeze. “g-ggget off-”
Looking back on it. I could have teleported if I had been more lucid during that moment. But I wasn’t. I was running on auto-pilot. The beast holds me down so tight I nearly couldn’t breathe. It wasn’t long before I gave up trying to struggle, yet again.
Why must fate be so cruel to me. To allow me to live past my time, for a moment, to dangle the possibility of life before me, only to have it ripped away. I found myself absentmindedly wondering if killing this beast and dying from its poisonous blood would be a less unpleasant death than whatever it had in store for me. The hellhound gets off my back, and I take a deep breath in response as it grabs the back of my shirt, lifting me up and setting me on my feet. I heard it make this small growling noise from behind me, like a sigh. Why had it taken me out of the room like that. It would’ve been easier to kill me there. Torture, likely. It wanted to see me suffer for killing one of its own kind.“..Why’d you do that..”
“Hmh?” it growls.
“Why’d you take me out? Are you gonna eat me?”
“Yeah. What else would I be doing?” it says with this incredulous sort of tone, as if that was obvious and it was confused by me even asking.
“Ah.. I hope you choke.” I respond, staring forward. I don’t think I had a single expression on my face in that moment.It lifted me off the ground yet again and without warning, carrying me over its shoulder. Taking me back to where it lived, down the street, through an alley, and into a building. I closed my eyes. My right hand tensing into a fist. I press my hand against its back. An injury this grave this far up the spine would be fatal if nobody came to aid. It would be so easy, to activate the blade. Its blood would kill me, sure, but it wasn’t like I didn’t expect that.
The beast ducks down and slips through a hole in the wall, turning on its heel around a corner, up a staircase, and through a hallway made of rickety scrap materials, with large broken holes showing the outside. It makes another turn and then down more stairs into a section of the building with ugly and chipping off-white paint. I heard a door handle click, the buzz of a MIIR code being performed, and the beast took me into its lair.
It takes me off its shoulder, setting me on my feet and looking down at me. Its eyes looked angry. Almost. Not quite. Its face was unreadable. I couldn’t tell what about me had put that expression on it. It was likely upset by my attempt to run. It struck me that this was the first time I’d been close to a hellhound that wasn’t smiling at me. Wasn’t baring its fangs and waiting for my reaction. The apartment was filthy. There were empty wrappers, dirty dishes, containers, trash all over the floor, stains on the couch, fur coated the carpet, the cabinets were open. The counters were cluttered and full of all sorts of random objects with no relation to one another. Cans, scissors, a clock, a couple rings, four handbags, a green hoodie, various notes, drawings, papers. What looked like gun parts were everywhere. I noticed a pair of jinuzium handcuffs located partially beneath an old painting.
The hound pulls me forward, keeping one hand on me while it digs around through its stuff. As it takes a step closer to the counter, it slips, falling and grabbing onto the counter and swearing. It turns back to look at me, yellow eyes all wide. It looked… shocked? Had it expected me to teleport? It rose to its feet, looking down at me as it grabbed me again and continued to look around for something. A second later it grabs those jinuzium cuffs from beneath that painting.
The monster then clasps them around my wrists, latching them uncomfortably tight. It forces me into a chair with this brutish inhuman strength. There it was. That grin they all bore. A mouthful of razors. Mirthless and merciless. A mark of the beast that smile was. How many people had this thing before me murdered. It’d have to be hundreds at the very least. How many lives had it taken.
Sadistic. Evil. That is what you are.
That is what all of you are.The shapeshifter took a deep breath and its smile faded. “Alright kid. What is up with you. Why the fuck you acting like that? How the fuck’d you kill Brutal in the ring, and then put up no fight against me?” it asks, one question after another, not even pausing to take a breath between sentences.
Why was it asking me these things. Why would it want to know anything about me. Maybe it believed me capable of killing it just as I’d done to the hound in the ring. And it would be right. I could kill it. I still had my springblade. It must be stalling. Wasting time so my pill wears off. The twisted demon wants to hear me scream, it wants me to feel it when I am eaten alive.
As much as I didn’t want to speak, I wanted to get this over with before my anesthetic wore off. “..Why do you care. I’m just your food. Snack probably. There’s not much to me.”
“I just want to know. I’m curious.” it responds, an almost gentle disarming tone to its voice. How dare it speak like that. How dare it speak with the inflection, the voice, of a human. How dare it mock us. Imitate us.“You’re a murderer. I don’t particularly want to feed your curiosity.” I responded with venom in my words. I didn’t want to humor this thing. I was disgusted by sharing a room with it.
The beast looks like it’s contemplating something, moving a hand up to its chin and pointing its eyes to the ground, thinking, probably planning in what way to torture me.
What it asked next took me off guard a bit. “Fine then. What’s your name at least?”
It took a second for me to respond. I wasn’t going to tell this thing my name. No hellhound would ever have the privilege of knowing it. It was a gift from my sister to me. A gift I would not be sharing with the beasts that killed her. It wouldn’t remember my name. It wouldn’t remember me. It’d remember my final battle, my life struggle. Not me. I’d rather be nameless.
“You aren’t going to remember it. Or rather.. You won’t remember me. I don’t feel like telling you.” I tell the beast.
“What?” it asks, doing a very good job at mimicking a confused tone of voice, just like a human. The mockery infuriated me.
“Have you got some sick little book of names you keep? Names of all the people you’ve tortured, eaten? I don’t want to be in it. You don’t remember anyone you’ve killed. Even if you remember their names. You only remember what they did while in their death throes.” I say, my voice low, quiet.It seemed to shut the thing up, as it didn’t respond to my question. At least not immediately. It subtly pulled its face into a mimicry of human confusion.
“Where’d you get that idea from?” it asks, feigning ignorance.
It waits a moment for me to respond before pressing further. “Go on I wanna know I’m even more curious now-” it says, getting closer to me. I didn’t want to look at its face. Those eyes. Sickly yellow. Pupils like a viper’s. I downturn my head, closing my eyes.
“Why must you patronize me this way. Get it over with.. Please.. Before that pill wears off… if you’ve got the slightest shred of mercy in you.”
I didn’t expect it to have mercy on me. I don’t really know why I asked. I didn’t expect anything to come of it.
It pauses. Then asks, “What’d that pill do anyway?”Was it seriously pretending not to know? I didn’t scream, I didn't cry. I couldn’t feel a thing. An idiot could’ve told you I was numb. it would have to be moronic not to catch on. There’s no way this wasn’t a lie.“..Why should I tell you..” I whisper.The thing stands up tall and proud, looming over me, grinning again. “Because, I’m letting you live, the least you can do is humor me. Maybe I’m feeling merciful today, who knows.”I had no interest in this thing’s false bargain. “I’ve already done what I set out to do. I knew I’d die today. I hadn’t expected to be alive right now.”“You mean to kill that guy in the ring? You planned that out?”I don’t respond to this. It didn’t need my response to glean this information. It was obvious even with my silence.“I take that as a yes. Why? What’d he do to you?” it presses further.
How dare it. How dare it. How dare one of these beasts ask to hear of my story. How dare it pretend to care. How dare it mock human empathy with its horrendous mimicry. How dare it. This thing would grin, laugh, if I told it of the horrors I’d been through. It’d take pleasure in my breaking down. No I wouldn’t relive her death for this monster. I wanted it to be over. I wanted to stop feeling now. I wanted a break I was tired my heart couldn’t take the hatred anymore.
“Just fucking kill me you goddamn sadist. I don’t want to talk to you.”Its demeanor seemed to shrink back, abandoning its tall stance, pretending to think. It suddenly plops onto the floor, sitting with its legs crossed, looking up at me. What was that look on its face. Fascination. But not the friendly kind. Like a cat watching a bird through a window.“What if I didn’t?” it asks in that husky ragged voice.
I furrow my brow. “What the hell is that supposed to mean.”
“What if I wasn’t gonna kill you-”
Lies. Lies deceit and manipulation. I wanted to kick something. This was idiotic. It was stalling. It wasn’t planning on sparing me. I wouldn’t believe this bullshit for a fraction of a second, not in a billion years.
“Oh drink piss I’m not playing these stupid games.”The thing scowls at me, and then stands up and attaches my chains to the chair I’d been forced into. And with that it does some sort of code securing the chair to the floor.The thing starts pacing, walking across the cluttered nasty apartment while holding its hand to its face, it sits on the couch for a few seconds only to get up and whip around, looking at me.“I’ll be back. Don’t try shit. I’ve got a tracker code on you.” it says before leaving, slamming the door hard behind it.
Anguish Fatigue [Clip 10]
Nothing. Absolutely nothing. That’s what I wish was inside my mind. I wish I was dead. I wish I was finished. I wish I’d been killed in the arena. That I’d have used my springblade on this beast while it was carrying me. I could have killed it. Prevented countless more murders in doing so right then and there. And I’d be waiting for the poison to whisk me away to somewhere quiet. Somewhere better than here.
But no. No, I would have to feel every moment of my death. I would have to feel it eat me. And whatever it did beforehand. Feel it skin me. Feel it flay the flesh from my bones. Rip me limb from limb. Feel it disembowel me. And when it finally feasts on my likely still writhing body. Unable to chew with those mobile teeth, it’d swallow me whole. Or at least in rather large chunks. I’d have to feel it when it began to digest me. I’d feel my skin begin to boil. My eyes would liquefy. I’d feel myself suffocate. I’d choke and sputter. My lungs fill with acid. My heart stalls; my pulse falters; until it inevitably ceases. I’d feel it. I would feel it.
My body, my memory, my very being, used to sustain the life of a predator, a murderer, a disgusting thing. I would be forced to sustain its life. My will, my passion, my hatred, all I’ve felt, undermined, ignored, as I am forced to aid in the survival of a killer. My life being put to use in helping a predator of mankind continue its slaughter. To be reduced to fuel for a machine which embodies the very antithesis of humanity. I am not strong enough to resist what it will do to me. That my blood, my flesh, my brain, my bones, it will be reduced to its very basal components, and used to do the very thing I fought so hard against. The very thing I feared for so long. I would become the monster. My soul, no longer bound to me, my body used against my will. To do unto others as what was done to me. The very thought of it was in the purest sense of the word; violating.Unable to resist.
Unable to break free.
All I could do was wait.No good deed goes unpunished I suppose. I killed that evil thing. I prevented countless others from being maimed, killed. Prevented the survivors from bearing scars upon their soul just like mine. What I did was compassionate. Noble. An act of selfless altruism. Of pure compassion for those I’d never know. For the dead I’d never meet. All I wanted now was to rest. I wanted more than anything to go home. I wanted to go somewhere safe, I wanted to feel the warm embrace of those who care for me. I wanted it back so very badly.
The ache within me was growing, that combined with the dread of what was to come, I felt my face contort, into an expression of pain, without my control. I didn’t want to show this emotion. But my body hunches forward in the chair, my eyes screw shut as tears drip onto the floor before me. I didn’t make a single sound sitting there in that chair. I felt sick. Sick with dread. Dread at the impending agony I’d face. I was going to face the same fate as her. At a different hand sure, but the same nonetheless.Unless I used it.
Used my blade. Just as I’d intended to do to Brutal.I felt along my arm, feeling my taught skin stretched over aching muscle and bone. The tattoo I bore on my wrist was slightly scarred over from the first time I’d tested the blade, but it was still clearly readable. My whole arm was red, just touching it caused this awful aching pain. An infection is likely. Hadn’t noticed it in the last day and a half considering I was focusing on more important things. I wasn’t long for this world, regardless of my choices. Infections are difficult to treat. There are solutions which disinfect the flesh from the inside, but they are expensive, and spells which do the same are exceedingly complex and require the infected tissue to be flayed and spread open.I would use my last few hours alive to kill another beast. When it got too close, I would strike. And if it failed, I’d strike again. And again. And again. Until my arms were ripped from my body. Until my blood was painting the floor. I would kill it. And if I couldn’t do that, I’d make it hurt.And maybe then, I could rest. I could go to that warm comforting place I so desperately needed. I drew my legs up close to me, hugging my knees, hearing the soft clatter of my chains. I will be free so very soon.Thinking about it all. Playing the last few months of my life over in my mind. Why. Why did it have to be this way. Why was I born. Why had I lived this long. I should have died as a child. Before I even had the chance to truly suffer. I should’ve died before I was even given my name. I should’ve never existed. I shouldn’t be alive. I shouldn’t be sitting here. I should be gone.
I do not belong here.I want to be gone. I don’t want to be here. I feel the heat under my eyes. Welling up. Spilling forth. The tears coming, my face twisting into that pained look I would never show to a single soul. I held my legs close to cover me as I sobbed. Quietly allowing the solemn grief to consume me, my shoulders shook. I don’t know how long it was I sat in that chair and cried. But I remember being oddly lucid before drifting off into a dreamless sleep.An unknowable amount of time passes. I was awakened by the feeling of a hand on my arm, roughly nudging me. Adrenaline surges through me as I jolt backwards. my groggy eyes blurry in the light, focusing on my captor. My heart was racing and I could hear my own pulse in my ears.
The thing was smiling at me. As though it found my shock amusing.“Back to the land of the living, eh?” it asks me. Mocking me. Why couldn’t the monster just get it over with? Why must it torment me…It presses further, “So, was that pill some sorta fear inhibitor or what? You gonna start screaming and begging now or something?”I didn’t want to respond in all honesty, but I figured it may speed up this process if I answered its questions. “No” I say, not elaborating.“Alright. Riddle me this, why you crying?” it asks, getting closer to me, staring intently at my face. I wasn’t crying currently but it must’ve been obvious that I had been. This thing couldn’t even fathom why someone would be crying in this situation.“..You really are evil, aren’t you..”It looks a little shocked, its venom yellow eyes widening slightly. It looked to be thinking. In that moment I felt a surge of burning hatred course through my exhausted nerves. How could ANYTHING sapient be so.. So STUPID. So devoid of basic empathy that it reacts like this to simple expression of emotions? Or was it just pretending? Trying to take my guard down.. This thing was a monster, a monster in the form of a man, Rayleigh was wrong, these things were not people. They do not think like us. They’re sadistic, cruel. I was right, It was stalling, waiting for my anesthetic to wear off so it could hear me scream, and the dread was becoming so intense. I was aware that I’d begun to cry and babble quietly to myself. Slow, tears that didn’t match the anguish on my face. My head was pounding. My heart beating, my eyes burning. I didn’t have the energy for this. I didn’t have the energy to scream. I didn’t have the energy to do this. I can’t. I can’t anymore. I exhale, I inhale, deep deep breaths. Deep breaths. Why weren’t the tears coming anymore. Why had the pain gone.I remember the look on the devil’s face. Hungry. Animalistic. But it drew back into one of thought, pondering, confusion, it took a step back, scratching its head, tapping a single finger on the counter as it stood there in thought. The thing suddenly grabbed its greasy brown hair and growled, its snarl even more wolfish than Rayleigh. It shifts, revealing its bestial demonic true form. It had a pattern similar to a tabby cat, bright yellow eyes set against dark brown striped fur. It grabs me, taking my chains off, knocking the wind out of me. I didn’t react. The dread. The dread was rising. My pulse was in my ears. I expected it to start pulling my arms off. To feel it start squeezing my ribs until they snapped. But it didn’t. It held me there. I opened my eyes to see it staring down at me. Even in this form I could read its expression of pained confusion. Why? Why was it doing that? “What's that face for..” I ask before I can stop myself, confused by why this thing was doing this. Does it not know how facial expressions work?My words seem to snap the beast out of its stalling, as it snarls again, baring its teeth and speaking two words, “shut it.”
I did so, closing my eyes and waiting.
The dread was going to kill me if my heart got any quicker. I didn’t want to feel it. I was praying that the anesthetic was at least partially in effect, but the realist in me knew that wasn’t likely. I felt its disgusting finger touch my face, the way its skin and muscle shifted like it was made of disgusting amorphous undulating flesh trapped beneath that skin. The feeling of those hands on me, they were bringing back memories. Memories of being held by the beast that killed my sister. The way it stabbed that spike though my guts with a single thumb, the nerve pain flaring, triggered by the memory. Those sick hands. Those disgusting hands were the last touch from another living thing that she felt. I wanted to vomit. I couldn’t take any more of this. My mind couldn’t keep tolerating this. I wasn’t this resilient. I wasn’t crying. I wanted to. I should. I should be fighting to hold the tears in. Fighting desperately to keep my composure, to not show the beast a shred of weakness as I did before. But.. the heat behind my eyes was absent. As if all my tears were gone.The dread kept building. I was about to be murdered. I only hoped it would be fast. Please be fast. Please.. Please don’t draw it out. I don’t think my heart could take it.I waited there for what seemed like a century, before opening my eyes, looking at the snarling monster over me. It stared down at me, squeezing me slightly, fingers twitching as if putting a lot of effort into stopping itself from crushing me. And suddenly, it spoke, growling, “Grrh.. I’m not hungry. Not right now.” and with that it dropped me on the couch. Backing away and twisting itself through the apartment, growling as it made its way to the door. Slamming it on the way out like an angry toddler.Had it forgotten to chain me back up. Was I really just.. Free to go? No.. no it would track me down… the tracker code.. Though I don’t remember it putting a code like that on me.
Even if it didn’t, it could probably smell me. Especially considering my clothing was still covered in corpse fluid. It would hunt me down. Even if it didn’t, another would. I was defenseless and I had no home. Even if I were to escape. What would I do. I was done here. I do not care if today is my final hour. This world is horrible. Worse than horrible. I don’t even have any more words to describe the horrors I’ve endured. I don’t have words for how exhausted my soul is. I have no more words. I’m tired. So very tired. I don’t want to live here. I don’t want to live. The constant dread, the fear, the pressure. That dial ticks up. One more time as I curl up, and close my eyes. Only to wait. My mind is finally empty.The beast returned some amount of time later, the door clicking open, still in its animal form. It bent itself in such odd ways to fit through that door, ways no animal should bend. Its yellow eyes locking onto me. It slinks round the back of the couch. Its slender body looked the way a snake’s does after a meal. I would’ve been disgusted. Would’ve drawn in on myself, been overcome with nausea. I was too tired. The fatigue permeating my mind was barring me even from feeling mental anguish at what was going on around me.It was then that I realized that this world had finally and truly broken me.I can feel it. I can feel it cooking me now. I can feel it killing my spirit. I can feel it killing me. The suffocating despair is winning. I am too far gone to even lift a finger to free myself. I am too far gone to even care. I can’t even cry anymore. My passion is dead. Not even my hatred, my pain, can reignite the fire in my heart. Nothing will resurrect my dreams. Nothing can undo what was done unto me.I have succumbed.Cameron Rooke is dead.I have no reason to escape.
[Clip 11]
To be continued...
Killer's Diary
Content Warning: Vorarephobia, character death, heavy injury, cruel characters, gore, murder, mentions of suicide, dehumanization, the speaker has a superiority complex
Normal day betting at the arena
[Part 1]
I've never kept a diary before, never written about shit. Haven’t even held a pen since dear old dad taught me to write. My handwriting isn’t the best and I’m not sure I’ll be much able to read this after I forget what it is I’ve wrote. I pray that whoever finds this’ll have the chickenscratch-deciphering ability of a grade school teacher.
I’m writing this so anyone reading it will think. Think about the way things are in this city, this country. I should start this off with what I am, a dog, hound, hellhound, werewolf, shapeshifter, what have you. I’m Bimridian. Born and raised on the coast. Resident of Metidoris now. As you might expect. Assuming you’re a human, or at least something close enough, you’d probably call me a killer. Murderer. Monster. Sadistic freak. And I’m writing this because well, I’m starting to believe you lot might be right. I might be wrong. My head is spinning, and I don’t know what to think. Is it guilt? Remorse? Is that what’s pulling at my mind and keeping me up at night.It all started a few months back. I had been betting down in the ring, watching hounds bigger than me duke it out in the arena, watching em fight brave armored fairies n’ humans, occasional spiderfolk who claimed titles of houndhunter and lynkiller, the occasional sewer beast thrown in for fun. I often think about what these tunnels under the old rotten city used to be used for. Books about the Old World say they ran trains under the city, powered by lightning, back when this place was still called New York. It’s crazy to imagine. Trains.. under a city.. But there’s pictures upon pictures to boot, so I guess it must be true. The arena is set up in one of the bigger train stations, a lot was knocked down and built up to make everything fit. Cage is made of jinuzium, no magic allowed in the arena. Physical hitting only. Makes it hella unfair to any humans up against hounds, fights are to the death too. Seen many a man meet their maker in that ring. Not a fate I envy even if I found it entertaining to watch.I bet on this guy, big lyn man, bigger than me, in his lure form, gotta be just under seven feet, wore a red cloak, body armour, had guns made of opal bones n’ dragon scales, though he never used em as per the MIIR magic ban. He was a hellhound, and took advantage of it. He used that primary form of his every fight, shifting forms right after the bell as most did. In his primary form he was a brute, muscular and big, I doubt he’d be able to squeeze through a window to hunt. He was put up against imported beasts and other hounds most of the time. Name in the ring was Bloodcloak the Brutal, and he lived up to it. He had a habit of killing other lyns before the five minute mark, grabbing their heads and crushing their skulls with his grip alone if they couldn’t wiggle away in time. If they put him up against a human, the poor sod would be folded in half with those hands of his, and swallowed alive without much of a struggle considering their broken spines. His hands were his main weapon. He’d broken so many bones and ripped off so many bits and limbs with that grip the skin of his fingers was stained red.All n’ all, he was a safe bet. ‘Bout as safe as you can get. I saw he was up against a half-human, poor bastard got the worst sides of fairies and humans. No wings, small build, only just over five foot high, unbalanced legs, like a bad mix of fairy n’ human, tail, no whiskers. Kid looked to be around twenty something, same age as me but so much weaker. Face covered in MIIR-healed scars, and a fire behind those eyes. He bore only a knife, long and serrated.. I bet seven-hundred on ol’ Bloodcloak. This was going to be easy. The matchers were just feeding him, and giving me a free stack of cash at the betting table.When the match started I notice him take a pill and a long swig of something on his belt, presumably booze? If it was coffee, you’d think he’d make a point of letting his lyn opponent know his meal was poisoned to avoid being eaten. The huge lyn man scoffed at this, chuckling at the pathetic boy before him. The kid wasn’t afraid, he stared down his death head-on. Didn’t even blink. He looked like he had something to prove, it was no deathwish. I smiled while watching from behind the cage, at the time I was excited to watch that look be wiped off the little shithead’s face when he was eaten alive.The bell rang and the red hound shifted forms, reality splitting for an instant as his conciousness switched to his primary body. Even being a lyn myself watching one of my own shift was always so jarring. Instantaneous. I didn’t even blink and it still feels as though I missed it. The huge scarred hound walked calmly up to the kid, his long body held low to the ground, a thin toothy grin spread across his long face. The boy stood his ground, not bothering to run, not bothering to attack. At least he was smart enough to know it was no use. But.. what was he trying to prove. Had he taken a shot of espresso out of that flask? Was he going to poison his opponant in an act of martydom? No, any lyn could smell coffee on your breath, Butal’d have to be stupid to fall for that. Before I could theorize on an answer to these questions, Brutal had grabbed him, wrapping his fingers round the boy’s waist and squeezing until he yelped in presumably pain, but he didn’t drop his knife. What was that kid expecting to do with it anyway? He couldn’t be planning on trying to cut him up from the inside, Brutal would break every bone in this kid’s body, there’s no way that’d work.The hound slips one of his hands down around the boy’s legs, moving his other up below his arms, leaning back to sit up on his hindlegs, like a gigantic elongated squirrel inspecting a walnut. He begen twisting. The little man’s back cracked, then snapped at his waist, leaving him paralized. Shockingly he didn’t scream, or even squirm, he winced sure but it looked to be more from the sound than any pain. It was as if he couldn’t feel it. The only look on that face was pure unbridaled hatred. I’d never seen a human so enraged, most of the time when I saw them, all they had in their eyes was terror at their impending death via my mouth. Brutal’s mouth fell open lazily and all his teeth swung forward in hungry anticipacion, he bit onto the boy’s limp legs, and wrapped his tongue around his waist, pulling the nearly unmoving human into his throat, legs-first. Everyone was much collecting their bets already, but I was watching the kid’s face, I wanted to see the realization of his inevitable death hit him before he saw the last light of his life.But that realization never came. Instead, right as his head was at the back of the hound’s throat, his arm whipped around with lightning speed, and sliced the tendon connecting all Brutal’s top teeth, causing his teeth to go slack, eyes to go wide and him to gag, growl and sputter in pain and shock, the kid lurched forward in his mouth. Brutal lifed a hand to attempt to take the boy’s knife, but he’d already pulled his arm back, and with all his strength, he rammed it into the roof of the old hound’s mouth, pushing the blade through the bone with enough rage behind it to set the earth alight. The tip of the blade poked through the top of his head, and his eyes rolled back. The crowd’s chatter amongst themselves was silenced by the sound of the Bloodcloak the Brutal hitting the ground with a soft thud, blood pooling around his head.
I stole a small man from the corpse room
[Part 2]
What happened next was a blur, after the initial silence, the crowd erupted into a cacophony of incredulous yelling, cheering and bickering, the ring staff ran out into the arena, checking to be sure that the lyn was in fact dead. His opponant however.. That was a different story. As subtle as it was I could see the faint rise and fall within the throat of the corpse. That little man was alive and breathing, not making a sound or trying to get out. Which in hindsight is understandable considering his injury. The clean up team was called out, and they drug the corpse away. I was intrigued. Did they know that boy was still alive? My question was soon answered as they updated the board. ‘Draw’, it said, signifying both had died. The staff hadn’t noticed, assumed the lack of movement meant the guy had given up or died I’d guess.My shock at the battle’s outcome slowly morphed into burning curiosity. I had to know more about that little man, and he was still alive, he could still talk. Though.. He probably wasn’t going to be alive for long. Either the staff would eat him, brutalize him to death, or they’d throw him in the burn pit with the body he’s still inside of. I ran round back of the betting table and through the narrow hall behind the bar, past the bathrooms, and down a little hole in the floor that I barely fit through. I was under the main floor now, where the arena staff work. They don’t have a uniform, so it isn’t like I’d have to disguise myself. I’d just have to act the part. I’d been down here only once before, during a battle of my own. Biggest loser of the night at the betting table gets thrown in the ring here, and that had been me a couple years ago.I walked quickly the narrow wooden halls under the floor and around the ring. There’s no lights down here. Don’t need them, dogs can see in the dark. They had humans, n’ rats, sewer critters, in cages lining the walls. For the feed rounds, filler while they prepare for bigger fights. I made my way to the hall where they drag off the bodies to, confidently passing a few of the staff. They didn’t suspect a thing. At least I hoped so. Why was I doing this? Was this human’s story really that compelling to me? I was hungry now that I thought about it. I could just eat the sucker after I’ve had my fun asking him ‘bout his life story. That must be what’s driving me to do this. Thinking with my stomach.Turning a sharp corner and opening an old wooden door off into the room they pile up the bodies in before buring, the stench hit me harder than it had before. Must’ve been piled up in there for at least a few days. I didn’t do much other than wrinkle my nose. Old Brutal was the newest addition to the pile, though the bulge in his throat was gone. My eyes quickly dart around the dark room, and my tail swings around at my ankles, looking for the smallest hint of movement. And I catch it. In the far corner, the human had pulled himself out, and managed to both heal his spine and crawl away in just under a few minutes that the body has been there. I was just a tiny bit impressed, but didn’t show it. Wouldn’t matter if I had. He couldn’t see me. Or at least I thought so. He didn’t have the fairy eye-shine from what I could tell. He was blind as a bat.I walked over to him, quickly grabbing him, to his shock and a small choked “AHeY-”, confirming my assumption that he couldn’t see me beforehand. I couldn’t be found here, I’d be put on the banned bord or thrown in the ring myself if I was caught stealing something live from down here. He was far smaller than me. For reference, I’m about six foot seven, don’t go out of my way to build muscle, but I’m strong enough. Pretty averayge lyn build.
I held him up close to me and he didn’t struggle
“You be quiet now- you hear me? You shut your mouth or I snap your neck. I’m taking out out of here.”
He looks to my eyes, confusion painted across his face, “Huh??” he asks, but I quickly shhhh him, putting a finger over his mouth, my touch on his face makes him flinch. From there he shuts his mouth, though he doesn’t seem terribly thrilled about his new predicament.Adrenaline courses through my body as I carry him out of the room, the confidence I had used to get in here would be of no use now, I had to get out before anyone saw, if I could get far enough away from that magic-sucking arena cage I could teleport outside, to the surface. That’s exactly what I did. I pulled the little hubrid up, one arm under his knees and the other around his back, I felt a bit silly in that moment. What on earth was I doing? I could get meals far easier by just grabbing some schmuck off the street and hitting em over the head with a brick, disorent them long enough to shift and swallow them whole. My insides make short work of them. When eating stuff as a lyn, you decide when everything gets melted down, digested. It’s some fancy chemical reaction from what I hear, and that stuff is boiling, or near boiling anyway. Dunno exactly how it all works. Never really listened in the biology classes my dad paid for. The heat burns their skin enough it just falls off, acid does the rest of the work as it cools. They die in less than a few minutes most of the time.It was a weekly thing for me, every Wednesday, that was my feeding day. Was hearing this guy’s story really enough for me to take such a risk? Because it definitely wasn’t just the thought of eating him that was pushing this. Stupid. I’m so stupid. Impulsive. I thought, while running round back the staff sitting room, sliding into a gap in the walls between the broken wood paneling, having to reposition the thankfully quiet human to get through quickly. I made him walk in front of me, as we had to go single file. He turned his head to look back at me for a few moments, there wasn’t hatred in his eyes, nor fear, just a bit of confusion. And resignation. I don’t know what about that glance did it, but it stuck with me just a little bit, stayed in my mind. Something about that look. It just intrigued me. Why wasn’t he afraid. He expects me to eat him. He knows I’m going to eat him. But he isn’t afraid. It confused me.
I made it far enough from the metal cage, I could feel the familiar radiation of MIIR buzzing through my flesh now that it wasn’t being nullified by the jinuzium. I grabbed the human by his shoulders, causing him to flinch. I then manifested the code to teleport in the language of the gods, and my destinatination in my mind’s eye, and my world went white, for only an instant, and then my vision clears, blurry for a moment, before I regain composure. Outside, on the street, looking up at the rust stained clouds as a light drizzle of rain came drifting down. A millisecond later I notice my catch had begun sprinting and my instincts take control, I give chase, quickly gaining on the small man. His malformed legs make this nearly too easy. I grab him again, and we both fall to the ground
“AH-hhOhf- g-ggget off-” He chokes out. Why hadn’t he teleported away from me? Mind too frazzled to focus? Was he scared after all?I needed to take him back to my apartment. He couldn’t escape there. I had jinuzium cuffs on the counter I could put on him. I felt his squirming beneath me suddenly cease and I was yanked from my own thoughts for a moment thinking I’d accidentally killed him. He was alive. Staring off to the side, seeming to have given up. He was still breathing, albeit labored. I figured he was likely trying to focus on teleporting, but was waiting until I stopped touching him to actually perform the spell. I took extra care to make sure I kept my hands on him while I stood up, picking him up with me, and setting him on his feet, keeping a hand on his shoulder while I start walking again.We were half way around the block when I hear him ask, “..Why’d you do that..”, his voice flat and toneless.
“Hmh?” I grunt.
“Why’d you take me out? Are you gonna eat me?”
“Yeah. What else would I be doing?”
“Ah.. I hope you choke.”It stung a little. But I don’t know why. It hadn’t ever gotten to me. For some reason I couldn’t place the venom in this little human’s voice hit me. It was the lack of fear. He wasn’t afraid of me. He wasn’t afraid of what I’d planned to do.I took him to the building I lived in, picking him up and carrying him through a hole in the wall, up a flight of stairs, through an add-on hallway. And down another flight of stairs to a lower floor, just beneath the street. I navigate to my door and open up, bringing the human inside, still not taking my hands off him. He doesn’t fight, he doesn’t wiggle, or even say anything. There’s no fear on his face. Only resignation.
While still grabbing him, I reach over to my cluttered messy counter, and dig around among the junk food wrappers and broken gun parts, It has to be around here somewhere.. I think, right as I take a step closer to the counter, and slip on some random bit of metal and fall, losing my grip on the human and making a fool of myself “AGH FUCK-” I yell before getting back up to my feet quickly, expecting the human to have vanished, but I am only greeted with him standing there, looking up at me, saying nothing. Huh… He really doesn’t care. Can he not teleport? I haven’t met anyone who lives here that can’t. Too many hounds about for you to be a human and not know how to escape.
Even so I grab his arm again, and begin digging around my things for the cuffs, which I find within the next few seconds, and quickly latch onto his arms. Clicking them tight, and then quickly feeling a pang of.. something.. Wishing I had left them a little looser.. He didn’t seem to want to go anywhere. I was just being cruel.
What was I thinking- What. What was going on in my head. Why did I care about his comfort? I was about to kill him for fuck’s sake. I stop staring off into space and I drag him over to a chair and push him down, making him sit in it.
I grin down at him, making sure to show all my teeth. He looks up, his lidded eyes again only showing resignation and apathy.“Alright kid. What is up with you. Why the fuck you acting like that. How the fuck’d you kill Brutal in the ring, and then put up no fight against me?” I ask, I hadn’t intended to ask that much all at once, the words just sort of fell out of my mouth.He was silent for a few moments before responding “..Why do you care. I’m just your food. Snack probably. There’s not much to me.”“I just want to know. I’m curious.”“You’re a murderer. I don’t particularly want to feed your curiosity.”“Hmmh.” I needed to find a way to get more out of him, I don’t know why this was my first response. I don’t know why I found him so intriguing. Part of me wanted to know his story, I hadn’t ever seen a human, or anyone, with a look like that on their face, or with the bravery to unblinkingly stare death in the eyes.“Fine fine. What’s your name at least?” I ask, attempting to tone back my questions.“You aren’t going to remember it. Or rather.. You won’t remember me. I don’t feel like telling you.”“What?” I ask, before I can filter the confusion from my voice.“Have you got some sick little book of names you keep? Names of all the people you’ve tortured, eaten? I don’t want to be in it. You don’t remember anyone you’ve killed. Even if you remember their names. You only remember what they did while in their death throes.”I didn’t say anything for a bit. I don’t do that nor have I met anyone who does. I sometimes keep things they have if they are especially interesting or useful. Bottle openers, ammo saws, crystals, throwing knives, etcetera. Though.. That isn’t what this man was talking about.“Where’d you get that idea from?”“...” he answers me with silence.“Go on I wanna know I’m even more curious now-” I ask a bit too enthusiastically.He sighs, looking down at himself. “Why must you patronize me this way. Get it over with.. Please.. Before that pill wears off… if you’ve got the slightest shred of mercy in you.” He says in a quiet and bitter monotone.It’s right then when I remember the pill he took at the beginning of the battle with Brutal,
“What’d that pill do anyway?” I ask.“..Why should I tell you..”I decide I could try to give him some motivation “Because, I’m letting you live, the least you can do is humor me. Maybe I’m feeling merciful today, who knows.”“I’ve already done what I set out to do. I knew I’d die today. I hadn’t expected to be alive right now.”“You mean to kill that guy in the ring? You planned that out?”“...”“I take that as a yes. Why? What’d he do to you?”His eyes narrow as he stares daggers at me, “Just fucking kill me you goddamn sadist. I don’t want to talk to you.” Seems I’d struck a chord.I didn’t want to kill him, and this comment only solidified that for some reason. I don’t know why. Perhaps I wanted to subvert his expectations, not be so predictable. His expectations of me were set in stone from the moment he saw what I was, and I didn’t like something about that. It wasn’t because I actually cared about him in the slightest at the time. I stood in silence for a few moments before dropping myself to the floor to sit cross-legged. I looked up at this human with what was probably very visible intrigue on my face.“What if I didn’t?”“What the hell is that supposed to mean.” he asked without the inflection of a question.“What if I wasn’t gonna kill you-” I asked again.“Oh drink piss I’m not playing these stupid games.”With this I didn’t press any further, just cuffed his arm to the chair and did a MIIR code attaching the chair to the floor.
All the wile he only stared forward, unblinking, unmoving. His resolve was something that got to me, especially back then when I had wholeheartedly believed humans were pathetic lesser beings, incapable of true strength.It took a while to place why his general demeanor took me off guard. But I eventually realized. The bravery of this guy. I’ve seen anger in humans sure, but this wasn’t just that. He’d accepted his place, his fate, with a frigid resentment, bitter as the grave. I hadn’t thought of this at the time, I wasn’t terribly introspective at the time. It also took me a long while to realize he was far braver than I could ever dream to have been in his shoes. Truth be told, if our roles had been reversed I’d have been sniveling and crying, curled in a ball and begging. Though I would've never told a soul this even if I had thought it back then. I couldn’t accept that a human had more mental fortitude than me. I would’ve denied it to my grave. This man.. He was dignified. Brave. That dignity, that bravery, it shocked me, impressed me, considering the way I was used to seeing humans n’ their like.I figured I’d give him time, whatever pill he’d taken at the beginning of the match, he sure as hell didn’t want it to wear off it seemed. Was it some sort of fear response inhibitor? Had I been perplexed by whatever the drug had done or was he truly genuinely lucid. Would he break down the moment it wore off? Only time would tell. So I figured I’d go and grab some snacks n’ a shitty movie or something to pass the time.“I’ll be back. Don’t try shit. I’ve got a tracker code on you.” I lied, before walking out the door, leaving a poorly restrained human in my house, like the idiot I was.
Feelings are confusing and also lame
[Part 3]
I returned home after about two hours of shopping around for cheap entertainment and little snacks n’ junk food to hold me over. And no, to the human reading this, I do not eat kids- and I can in fact eat human food. I was munching on a jumbo sized bag of cheese puffs when I opened the door, pushing it open with my shoulder, carrying a paper bag full of comics, a couple movies, and various candies I’d gotten from the general trader a few blocks towards the harbor.
I was greeted with the sight of the human on the chair, his knees now pressed against his chest, his head between them, I couldn’t see his face behind his limbs, only his dirty blonde sort of reddish hair. Simultaneously surprisingly and unsurprisingly, it hadn’t looked like he tried to escape while I was out. A small part of me in the back of my mind had been hoping I wouldn’t find him when I returned, that he’d be long gone appreciating his second chance at life. I set my bags down, and walked up to him, standing over him, arms crossed, waiting, did he even know I was there?
His breathing was slow and steady, no panic in the soft sounds of his long breaths. Was he asleep? What an odd position to sleep in, I thought.“Eh?” I ask, checking if he was awake. His fairylike ears don’t twitch at the sound, telling me he’s either ignoring me, or passed out. I reach a hand to touch his arm, a rough poke with my second knuckle. This causes him to startle and his head to fly back, his face was red and his eyes were puffy, like he’d been crying before passing out. The groggy shock twisted his face into a silly sort of expression.“Back to the land of the living eh?” I asked, waiting for his snarky nihlistic ‘not for long’ retort, which never came.
Instead after he got his barings, he slowly returned to his curled up position, not trying to go back to sleep, but also not looking at me, not saying a word, not making a sound.
“So, was that pill some sorta fear inhibitor or what? You gonna start screaming and begging now or something?”He looks up at me, confused, “...No.” he only responds, no explanation given.“Alright. Riddle me this, why you crying?”“...You really are evil, aren’t you..”This took me aback a little, did he think I was toying with him? Probably. Was I toying with him? I honestly don’t know.
“I just want to know. You were so stoic earlier, what changed it?”He glared up at me, intense hatred and something more behind his eyes; dread. “I.. I’m going feel it..” His face contorted with what looked to be pain as he buried his head in his arms. “I’m going to feel it.. Why..” his small body is racked with a rattling sob. “Ynnhhnnnn- YOU’RE EVIL” He shouts without lifting his head. “You.. you couldn’t even give me the mercy of killing me while the anesthetic was taking effect.. No.. no you want to hear me scream when you murder me.. When you rip me apart, take my limbs off.. Gut me.. Cook me.. Eat me.. Whatever you’re planning… oh god..”In truth the display of weakness made me hungry in the moment. His fast jerky movements picked at my brain in all the ways that told me to kill, to grab him, devour him. But his words also angry. I wasn’t.. I wasn’t evil. What I do was just natural, what I was supposed to do. Like calling a cat evil for eating a mouse. I’m sure a mouse probably would think a cat was evil if it could think. That’s what I’d been taught as a child anyway. His lack of reaction in the arena made sense now. He’d numbed himself with that pill. I didn’t know whether to consider it genius or cowardice.I was lost as to what to say really. I was tempted to just give into the urges and eat him. But the thought of that seemed to upset some part of me, I’d guess I didn’t want to be exactly what he expected I was.All at once, it hit me; Why the fuck did I care? Why did I care what this little shit thought of me? I was stronger, I was in control, why on earth was I concerning myself with this man’s comfort? With his opinions? What? What was wrong with me? Why hadn’t I just eaten him to begin with once he decided not to be entertaining? truly, It felt like there was something compelling me, some part of my mind I’d deeply repressed, that would be horrified at the sight of this random human’s death, that made me sick at the thought of feeling his struggles cease inside me. But why? There was a battle going on inside my head between me and myself. This was pissing me off, I didn’t know what was wrong with me, but I figured that I could fix it by getting rid of the source of these confusing thoughts.I grabbed my hair roughly in my hands, growling to myself. “Ghhhghr-” I shift forms, opening my eyes and looking to the human in the chair. I step over the couch, my body is long and rather large, but fits in my apartment thanks to my flexibility. He looks back to me, he’s got tears streaming from his eyes, but no fear. No panic. Only dread. He looked as though he might throw up. I grab him, undoing his cuffs, getting no protest. The lack of rage, of attempts to fight back, It made me angry. How had he gone from showing courage I had respected to being so.. Pathetic. He’d given up. Why did you give up? Fight me. Struggle, yell. Hate me. There’s got to be some life left in you, something you want to live for. Do something.“..what’s that face for..” He asks, again seeming to forget that questions require inflection.It took me out of my own head. Face? Had I let my snarl falter that much? He must’ve seen the confusion his question had caused, but he didn’t say anything.
“Shut it.” I said, it came out a lot more cruel than I had intended.The little man in my hands sighed softly, closing his eyes, waiting for his inevitable end, his body relaxed, but his pulse only quickened, his eyebrows twitching down as he mentally prepared.His lack of struggling caused the flaring of my instinctual impulses to die. I would have to do this… completely voluntarily, no reflex taking over my mind, forcing me to ignore my higher thoughts. There was no urge to give into. He was doing nothing to trigger it.In this moment, it was the first time I realized just how much I relied on those reflexes. Involuntary, instantaneous, the beast I was taking control of my mind in order to feed, when I saw struggling, weakness, the smell of blood, it sparked something within me, flooding my mind with dopamine, with hunger, and I was happy to give into it when I felt it beckon me.I held the limp little human in my hands, supporting his body gingerly, feeling along his chin with my thumb, causing his face to distort in slight disgust, likely because of the feeling of the boneless muscle of my hands touching him. Hellhound hands don’t have bones in primary form, no claws either. It’s a detail most don’t notice until it’s far too late to tell anyone about it. I held him, staring for what seemed like centuries.My mind fogged over with imagery of him being boiled alive at my whim, his eyes melting into their sockets, not before staring me down with resignation, his skin sloughing off. Muscles fray, organs spill, bones slip free of their ligaments, and his remains breaking down further, dissolving, leaving nothing but a memory in his wake. Yet even still I feel his watchful eyes from beyond the vale, long after his bones are bare and his soul should have long since left. The essence of this little human watched me, filled with despair and pain I’d never truly know. The feeling it gave me was solemn and haunting.I’d done this before, but it never impacted me. Hundreds of times. Every week of my life just about. I don't know why, but it bothered me suddenly. In truth I'd never really paid much mind to it. They weren't me. Why should I care about what happens to them.I was pulled out of my morbid introspection by the shifting of the human in my hands, he opened his eyes. This sort of deep hollow and sadness painted across his pale eckled features. freckled features. I tried to retain my threatening snarl though I didn’t really expect it to scare him at this point.
“Hmh. I’m not hungry. Not right now..” I lied in a low growl, before dropping him on the couch. I hadn’t eaten in around 12 days. I needed something, but my own brain was stopping me from eating this guy for no apparent reason.“Ghhhhh…” I’d have to go out. Go out and hunt when this perfectly good little meal was sitting right there on my couch. Not even trying to get away for fuck’s sake! But.. I think that’s what’s making it feel wrong. It feels unfair. Not that I could place why I cared. This was always unfair. He was a human and I was a wolfman, I’m supposed to do this. It’s the way things are.Some part of me wanted to go out and return to my apartment to find it empty. Pretend to be upset I never got to eat him, then go on with my life. But at the same time I still wanted to know his story. I want to know why he’s given up. Why he volunteered himself to fight, the way he stared down that hound in the arena with such a look of vitriol, what could make a pathetic little malformed human do that? I was curious, so very curious. Different sides of me all wanted to do different things with this man. I was hungry obviously, but this pang of something I’d never felt in my chest stopped me, made me want to apologize, get sappy, tell him I wasn’t gonna hurt him, set him free.. But at the same time I wanted to pry his story out of him, he was the single most interesting thing I’d come across in years. I’m repeating myself. I know. But at the time these thoughts came, running through my head, one after the other, on loop. It was driving me mad.Within the hour I’d found myself out in the streets, the sunset casting a red glow and long shadows over the streets. The rats would be out soon enough. I was hungry and it was making my head spin even worse than that tiny man had on his own. I quickly locked onto a target, an outsider, wearing clothes far too nice to have gotten them here, He was a human, my guess is he was from the passenger vessel that’d been stranded at the harbor a day previous. Poor bastard’s probably one of the only ones who wasn’t immediately snapped up by butchers on the docs, n’ sold to the highest bidding hound. Humans from other countries always tasted better. Less grime worked into their skin.I trailed behind him at around fifty feet, as not to raise his suspicion. Once his posture told me he was just a bit too relaxed, I closed my eyes and shifted forms, the familiar warm tingle through my nerves as my mind grew used to its new body was invigorating. And before he even thought to turn around, I lept forward, only taking a few long strides in this form to cover the distance, I grabbed him, his head hitting the concrete hard, good, he wouldn’t be able to perform any MIIR codes that way. “AGhh Hh-hhh Nh- Hellhh–hellhounnndddd- HELP-” he manages to get out as he writhes before I place my jaws over his head, lifting him off the ground and striking my head forward, using inertia to force his whole upper half into my throat in only a second.He kicked and flailed, screaming garbled gibberish I couldn’t care less about. Nobody was going to help him. They all knew better. I wrap my tongue wround one of his legs and use it as leverage to pull him in deeper, and within seconds I feel the weight of the average sized man sink into my throat, I lean into the instinct to consume him, the chemical reaction within my guts going off slowly, the comforting heat from within my center letting me know I wouldn’t be hungry for much longer. Only a second later I felt that weight drop into my midsection, followed by muffled shouts and agonized screaming I barely registered. It felt nice. The dopamine hit after a successful catch was always so satisfying, the relief from the hunger pains equally as good as the rush of the catch itself. It was fun.I nestled myself away from the main street, crawling into a narrow alley and through a window into an uninhabited ruin of one of the old skyscrapers, I plopped down on my side, feeling the stiff lump of meat inside me twitch and shudder, quiet, sputtering, gargling breaths only barely audible even to my sensitive hearing. I inhaled deeply, feeling satisfied, not caring enough to imagine the horror going on just beneath my skin even if I could hear it.After just a few minutes, the foreign lump of living flesh within me relaxes among weak twitches, and I don’t hear any breathing. It had been easy to ignore before, but now it was even more so. I got to my feet, crawling through the skeleton of the old building, out to the alleys beyond, I climb through a few more fallen ruins, dipping beneath the street a few times before returning to the building in which I lived. I stopped at the door still in my primary form, opening it slowly, the human was still on my couch, though he’d changed positions now, he looked over at me with only his eyes, expression blank and unchanging. I stepped into the apartment, my form twisting and contorting to fit, I closed the door with my tail as I entered. The human’s eyes fixated on my still midsection, it was distended very slightly, I doubt he know what I’d done from that alone. Or at least, I found myself hoping he didn’t.. But why… I found myself repeating the same questions within my mind on loop again.I laid myself behind the couch, resting my head on the armrest, my eyes turning towards the small form that’d sank into the cushions at it’s center. What about him.. What about this tiny inferior little man.. Why was he making me question myself. Why was he making me think.Why was he making me feel something.. something I couldn’t quite place.. something I didn’t have a word for.
So, I killed my neighbor
[Part 4]
I woke up a few hours later to find the human had gone, and I breathed a sigh of relief. He'd left. I wouldn't have to deal with these thoughts about him anymore. I could go back to my life, and forget about this whole thing. I shifted forms, stretching and cracking my back, It was real early in the morning. I figured I'd spend today at my shop, on the bottom floor of the buildings. I don't think I remembered to mention that earlier, I run a pawn shop. Dead humans don't need their stuff, y'know? It'd be a shame for all that to go waste.I got myself some water to wash away the day-after-eating blood taste from the back of my throat, eyeing the box of crackers and can of spray cheese on my counter. I grabbed the whole box and the cheese and took it with me, walking out that door with a spring in my step, munching on cheesy crackers. I got down to the shop through a hole in the floor that drops through the wall, and out another hole. My own handiwork. A little shortcut to the back of my shop.
Personally, I think my shop smells great, though I keep getting people complaining about the cigar smell coming from behind the counter, tell me I shouldn't be doing that in such a small little room n such. I just tell em I'm not smoking anything. Not like they can see me from behind the barrier I set up. I hung a big ol piece of one-way glass from the ceiling in front of my counter, so the customers would stop comin in, seeing me, then turning tail and leaving.That piece of glass cause me a fortune, even with the big crack down the middle and chipped corner. It didn't cover all of me obviously, people could still see my hands on the counter and my middle. They'd see my middle finger too if I saw any shoplifting. Maybe a bit more of my hand, real hard against their face if they didn't stop.I went out the front door, activating my glowing sign, that says 'STUFF 4 CHEAP', I couldn't find enough letters to write 'for', and the number is cooler anyway. I flipped the wooden window sign to say "open" and walked back inside, taking a seat behind the counter and waiting, grabbing a cigar from a drawer in my desk-counter thing. I lit it up with a bit of magic, just a little fire spell. That'd been one of the first spells I learned, I loved making that little flame at the end of my finger, pretending my hand was the smoking gun of a movie detective.The fairies n' humans always come out real real early in the morning, I think I'd already missed most of my business by waking up a little later than I usually do when I run my shop. I sat there waiting, pulling out a notebook and starting scribbling something up. I'd been drawing since I was a teenager. It was my form of rebelling from my dad, he thought a boy drawing was such an effeminate hobby. That I might grow up to be weak or something like that. I was no weakling. Don't get my dad’s connection between art and weakness. Made no sense to me, even as a kid.My disagreeing didn't stop me from being embarrassed of it though. I'd never dare show any of my pallies my book of drawings. 'Specially considering what I liked to draw, trees n' flowers. Something you don't see all too often here in the city. The bell of the door signaled me to close my book and toss it in the drawer, feeling accomplished in my half-drawn dandelion even despite it being unfinished n' messy.A human came through the door, he was a spider, one of them from the northeast across the sea. One of those four arms had a bandage on the wrist. He was a big dude, not as big as me. His arms were bare, and he was wearing a black leather vest, had a gruff chiseled face, grey hair. Figured the guy was looking for weapons or something of the like, he looked like a traveling mercenary, not a local."Can I help ya?"
"Got coffee?" he asks, looking over a box of chipped crystal fragments I had listed for fifty.
"Coffee? Uh.. No, I don't sell food stuffs here." In truth I didn't sell coffee because smelling it for too long made my head hurt. Was always told to stay away from that stuff since I was young. It's got a chemical in it that stops your body from working right, makes you cough blood and foam at the mouth, then die of a really awful headache. I've always been a fan of energy drinks for that reason, none of that in there.
"Ah. Damn." said the guy, putting the box down and looking through the other piles of stuff in here.
I didn't say much while he looked, just kept an eye on him, making sure he didn't break anything or steal."Merchant, d'you sell anything jinuzium?" He asks, I didn't have anything like that, and if I did I'd be using it myself.
"Naw. That'll sells out speedy."
"Wha'bout bones?"
"Yeah I've got those. In that big box over there against the wall. Little ones are ten, big ones are twenty, anything opal is triple that. Might be a bit higher or lower when you bring it up."
"Thankms." he says, walking over there, picking up the whole box and dropping it right on the floor in front of the counter. "How much?"
"Uh.." I hadn't expected him to take the whole box, and I was bad at math and didn't feel like doing the math for tall these. "Six-hundred I'd say. Four-hundred if you take out the opals."
He wordlessly hands me cash for six-hundred, I check it, counting as fast I could, seeing that he'd given me a bit exta. I didn't tell him that though.
"Thankm'yr business. Enjoy your box o'bones." I said with a smile, giving him a thumbs up underneath the barrier.
He picks up the box and walks out. Before he leaves, he turns and says "You should start sellin' coffee. It'd make it harder t'tell you're a dog behind that glass.", and he leaves a second later.
I hadn't had many people realize I was a lyn without seeing me, guess the guy was familiar with our smell? Maybe he'd just been suspicious about why I was covering my face.I really did have to increase the price of those opal bones. I was kicking myself for lowering it to begin with. Used to have them at five times the price of the normal ones. Opal bones were a premium material for gunsmithing. Making your barrel out of those could charge a shot a good ten times the power of a gun made with young bones. You don't ever find opal bones from humans, you gotta go out and kill some old beast in the woods, something old and big enough its bones have started turning to crystal inside it. Thas why they're so pricey. Costs a pretty penny for the big ones.
I lounged back in my chair, pulling out my book and my pen and continuing to draw, details were my favorite part of any sketch, when it looked done, and I could be proud of it, even though I was still working on it. It was a mindless sort of activity, my hand just following what my artist brain deemed to stick out and fixing it without a single word in my head.
I was glad I had boned hands when I was in secondary form, makes it easier to draw n write. They look just like human hands actually. Its the only reason that glass barrier works, can't tell someone is a hound by their hands.
The bell rung again as the door crashed open, two fairies grappling against each other, yelling at each other, pulling hair, biting even, their wings buzzing at near full speed sending wind around my whole shop. Knocking shit down, breaking the ropes going along the ceiling, and shattering a nice vase I had on display.
This wouldn't stand, I came out from behind my barrier and grabbed the one who was on top, pulling him off the other guy. "Take it outside-" I said firmly to the one on the ground. Both of them looked terrified once they realized the shop they stumbled into was owned by a hellhound.
In truth I liked it when people were afraid of me, it filled me with this sort of mean spirited joy. Even when I wasn't hungry.
The guy on the ground stumbles out the door and sprints off, but I hold the other one there, gripping their shoulder tightly. "I've got a teleport blocker in here, so don't even try it." I said, stifling a smile."Wh..what're you g-gonna do man-" He was shaking.
"Hmm… What to do with you.." I wasn't planning on hurting this guy, in all honesty this whole thing was a bit. I was bored.
"Y… You gonna.. You gonna eat me-"
I wait a few seconds before responding. "Mmmaybe.."
He whined and started looking a bit more scared. I let him soak in his fear for a few more seconds before responding.
"..Pick up all the shit you knocked over. And you owe me thirty bucks for that vase you broke." I say, jabbing a thumb at the blue glass shards all over the floor. And with that I released my grip.
"O-ok-" he starts picking up all the crap on the floor, marbles, cards, nick knacks and a few tools, stacking them up and glancing at me every now and then with this worried expression on his face. He finishes after just a few moments, still looking incredibly uneasy."Alright, now pay up."
He digs through his pocket and hands me a twenty dollar coin. "This's all I've got sir.. I-I can get more-"
"Nah. Just take the glass shards off my floor with you and I'll call it fair."
He nods and picks up the big pieces of the broken vase, putting them in his side bag for the sake of speed, then brushing the smaller shards into his hand, turning to look at me. "I'm.. I'm free to go?"
"Yeah go on." I said, puffing on my cigar.
"Thank you!" He says with a shaky voice, making a swift exit.I went back behind my counter, lounging back in my comfy wheely chair. Most days running the pawn shop were pretty quiet. I got more business than most places just because of the big flashy sign in full view of a street. Most shopkeepers didn't do that, tried to hide their shops and let people know via word of mouth. It was safer for them that way I suppose. I don't know many hounds who run shops. Most of em are run by the little guys.Most hellhounds don't really try to get money this way, they just rob their dinner most of the time. I liked paying for imported junk food n' movies, so I needed a bit more than pocket change. That, and I was trying to get into gunsmithing myself, Been meaning to go be an apprentice for one, but never really got 'round to it. Met a guy who said he'd take me as an apprentice if I got him some real hard-to-find shit. Needless to say I haven't done that and I don't think I will. He wanted caedragon scales, the skin from a larval amalgumi, a big bundle of MIIR tassels, and a big jar of my own blood, said he was gonna use those in a rifle he was making. Never heard of using hound blood to treat your guns, but I guess it makes some sense.
Gunsmithing was something I'd thought was cool since I was a kid. I'd shot my dad's guns a few times, though he had nothing too big or particularly powerful. Short barrels, simple shots, not a whole lot of code etched along the inside of a short barrel.I finished my drawing, didn't feel like coloring it. Real detailed sketch of a dandelion growing from cracks in the pavement, few ants, some trash on the ground next to it. I loved seeing plants in the city. They weren't too common. Not a whole lot of places for em to grow. Too much fighting n' steppin on em going on for too many to live. 'Specially not anything big.I didn't have much business for the rest of the day, so I figured I'd make some new price signs for some stuff in the store, particularly the opal bones, made the starting price for those fifty. I didn't have any for sale left, but I'd get some back soon I'd reckon. I liked doing the signs, painting big blocky 3d font on bits of flat trash was always fun. Making something useful out of garbage was a specialty of mine.I didn't stay in for too much longer. Locked up the door, then realized I'd need to go out and turn the sign off and immediately unlocked it to go do that. Flipped the open sign to say closed, then locked the door again. Went around, cleaning stuff up, picking up any stuff that'd fallen onto the floor, then turned the lights out, and left through the hole in the wall in the back. I climbed up a floor through the wall, popping out and stretching. I'd made six hundred thirty bucks, not a bad day at all. I began heading back up to my apartment when I saw movement through a hole in the side of the building, I turned to see one of my neighbors dragging a body. I didn't care much until I realized the body was that little shit who'd been in my house for the past day.I jumped through the hole in the wall, stuck the landing aside from a little stumble and a little pain in my foot. That was stupid I do admit. The guy turned around, his name was Hanen, I'd known that about him at least. The guy lived in the same building, different floor. He turned to look at me, and smiled "Aye Dock, how's the shop going?" He asks, stopping and dropping the limp little dude to the ground. He was bleeding from his head and out cold, but still breathing. Seeing him like that made me feel something. And it sure didn't feel good."It's goin alright.. I'm more interested in that human you got there-" I reply, causing Hanen's smile to turn to a scowl.
"I thought you were better than stealin' kills Dock."
"Oh it's not that. I'm just- I.. Hmh-" I really didn't know what it was that was making me do this.
Hanen wrinkled his nose. "What?" he asks almost accusatorily.
"I caught that one first. Had em' in my house until just a bit ago- escaped." I lied. I'd let him go and I knew that.
"That's yer own fault y'idiot fucktard. Your kill walks off its fair game." he says, picking him up again and starting off, continuing. "Who knows, might get nasty with this one, it's cute n' little. 'Could skin em. Maybe make some jerky. Maybe one of those little leather pendants." he said with a toothy smile.That was it, that's what sent me over the edge. I wasn't sure why, I'd always just ignored that shit. Didn't like it. Didn't think about it. But in that moment got to me and I was going to do something about it. I rushed up and roughlygrabbed the other hound. Lifting him a bit, pulling him towards me, causing the human to hit the ground hard, I felt that feeling again just then, something pulling at my heart and making me feel all rotten inside, but a second later I was pulled away from this feeling by the sound of Hanen's voice.
"AY- What the FUCK man-" He says, but I wasn't listening, just the grating sound of that voice pissed me off even more. The second my eyes flicked up to his face I was seeing red, snarling, showing my teeth, and I sent my fist into his jaw from below n' the side. Used every ounce of strength I had in that arm. Heard a crack and felt him tense as his head flew back, and figured it was his jawbone. It felt good to use that strength, it felt right.
I dropped him, more like threw him down, growling to myself, not a thought running through my head other than being pissed as hell. I picked up that little human, pressing my head against his chest, his breathing was quiet but I could hear it. Soft and calm. I breathed a sigh of relief, then looked over to the hellhound who I assume I'd knocked out cold. I quickly realized that hadn't been the case.
The hound was limp, but his eyes were open, darting around for a few more seconds before stopping and twitching in their sockets. It was then when I realized the crack I'd heard had been his neck, not his jaw.I didn't know how to feel in that moment. I'd killed my neighbor over protecting this little shit. As much as I didn't want to be responsible for him, I didn't want Hansen to eat him or do whatever else he was implying. I carried the little guy up to my apartment, laid him on the couch. Did a simple healing code for the developing bruises on his head. I let him rest for a bit. Wondering what on earth I was going to do about this whole situation.
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[Part 5]
To be continued...
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