Rules of the game
Rules of the Game - The Rule of 3
I hate those idiots who think that vampires are romantic and tragic creatures. They dress in black and complaint about life as if Nihilism was an original concept. It's too damn easy to bitch and complain. But that nonsense stops when you are balls deep in blood. Vampires ,which we in the profession call shades, exist in some many different forms. There are as many types of Shade as there methods of predation. They've been with us from time immemorial and will outlast us until the sun goes nova. I give you this warning. If you take up the fight realize you will die violently, emotionally scarred, insane and invariably alone. When Chalice asked me to write a guide about "Monster Slaying" I reluctantly took up the challenge. I'm Ronin a masterless hunter. I broke my ties with order years ago. Sacrificing a support network for autonomy.
Rule 1 - All Shades must feed on something, it could be blood, flesh, strength, beauty, intelligence, youth, heartache, fear or a myriad of other things. Each is unique and what kills one won't necessarily kill another.
Rule 2 - Hit it with cold steel or wood till it stops moving, remove the head and heart, then burn it. In my experience this will kill 80% of the Shades out there. The method also kills humans 100% or the time, just incase you are wondering. Other weaknesses specific to them may become apparent. Do your research.
Rule 3 - Stay alive.
The following tales are from my journals.
Stay alive and Keep Hitting.
a little prep - Prologue 2
The thing about hunting monsters is that you have got to be scarier than they are. When the Shades tranforms and the veneer of reality melts away like a cheap candle, When you are facing some unknowable thing straigtht out of nightmares the best you can do is listen to your amygdala. Fight or flight.
Trust no one but your crew. Your team and contacts are what keep you alive. Chalice is good for that. Putting red herrings in the way of Shade and servitor alike. Do not get caught. Torture is an ineffective means of getting information but it is an even worse way to die. If you get caught, this isn't the movies where your crew can launch a rescue operation and get you home safe and sound before the commercial break. If you get caught and it's a choice between you and your crew. Have you crew put a bullet in your head. No one withstands torture and you will give up everything to save yourself.
You have to know what your facing and always be prepared. Always have a gun. They never work against the big bads themselves or their servents but they tend to put down those annoying humans. Mr. Colt made everyone equal. For the Shades your best bet is steel and wood. You have to know how to fight with weapon and fist. And even more annoying some of the shades don't disintergrate in sunlight. So you have the added problem of corpse removal and evidence tampering. You do not get caught. It's always good to have a legend prepared to through the human autorities off the scent. I'll get more into that later.
The madness of the job creeps in. The horror bleeds into your psyche. It’s unavoidable. We all cope in different ways.
Understanding is key. I carry a few hunting kits in my truck for just such occasions. Do not make too much of a show of yourself. Do not stand out, until you have to. When stalking the shades it's best you make yourself the target.
I will elaborate more on preparations and the cultivation of assets later. You will learn to use money, ideology, compromise and ego to extortion to turn the human against their best interest. Know your prey. Find the chinks in the armor and peel away the well designed masks. Everyone has secrets.
We are just flesh. Chalice knows this. But we made the decision to fight and they can keep you going with intel and safe houses. If there is even a suspicion of being turned, crew or not. I'll kill you myself.
As you put together you gear remember. This isn't about justice, it's about revenge.
The man who could not be killed - hunter story part 1
She was young, half dressed and hysterical walking down the highway. It was cold and a fresh layer of Decmeber snow had fallen on the ground. I repressed the Memeory of a a winter 20 years earlier when I heeded the call for revenge. First mission was to get her out of traffic. Careless humanity honking horns speeding passed. Some men slowing down asking if she wanted a ride. Well ride something at least. I pulled over said a short prayer and thanked my truck for holding itself together. The police would come soon and I knew she was either a vic or bait. The bites were apparent and there was a nest nearby. I could hear Calice talking to me her voice, an echoing vibrato like she was talking through a fan. Indistinct at first it became clearer and clearer.
CHALICE – Save her.
RONIN – What do you think I’m doing boss.
Traffic started to screech to a halt. A few choice words were spoken by some young touch until he saw me and promptly learned the value of silence. Sinatra Blue eyes beneath a face that looked like 10 miles of bad road. My hair blonde and graying cut short to keep out of my eyes. I wasn’t undercover so I was me for the first time in a while.
I scooped her up, she weighed nothing. She was tiny. About 24, hispanic. Tan skin peering out of a red lingerie. She was babbling in Spanish. “Feo”
I forced down my inate lechery.
CHALICE – Repress that.
RONIN – Already on it boss.
My truck is named Roxanne for the heroine muse of another ugly hero. Roxie has always treated me well. I put the vic or bait in the back. She hadn’t turned.
Chalice appear differently to every hunter. Some of us have even speculated she’s a kind of shared hallucination. But you always recognize her. She gives you some assignments. She puts people in your path to train. I have an idea of who she is. But I ain’t telling just yet.
She appeared to me, Emma’s face. White face, blooded lips and dead eyes.
CHALICE – Get her someplace safe and warm.
RONIN – Yeah boss, I figured.
CHALICE – As much as you are one of my favorites. You need to start training again. The average life expectancy of a hunter is five years. You’ve been doing it twenty. You know what the other crews call you.
RONIN – The man who can’t be killed.
CHALICE – Let’s not make liars of them, Shall we my knight.
She always called me “My knight” as a harsh reminder of Emma. To me we hunters were always somewhere between Knight, Viking, Samurai, and Gladiator. Fighting to earn our spurs and freedom from the madness. We travel fight the wars and are as much her vassals as part of her stable. Sometimes it was as much about the story of the fight and the roar of the crowd who’s cheers and boos we could hear.
Some idiots believe that humanity is secretly under the thrall of alien lizards and radio waves are a form of mind control controlled by a pro Zionist conspiracy. These bastards are perfect fodder for the shades. Yes the governments know there are monsters and yes they have been in bed with some of the more civilized shades for some time. Don't trust anyone unless they're your crew of they've been vetted Chalice. Her intelligence ops keep eyes on everything. She can give you reconassaince and targets. She also is not adverse to giving orders.
Not to get her someplace safe and warm. And I need a drink.
the man who could not be killed part 2 - lover's promises
Roxanne my reliable chevy blazer moaned. I petted her gently on the dash and made all the promises neglectful lover’s make.
RONIN – I promise baby, this is the last time. I’ll fix you up.
My truck new I was lying. But she loved me.
I have to get the girl to Ernesto. One of the safe houses. The snow and icy rain pelted Roxanne like a million little fists. The cars and trucks were spinning out of control. The power was going to fail soon. I shoot down route 112 towards Port Jefferson. It’s on old town, by long island standards and older than most people know. It had a hand in the Setauket spy ring during the American revolution. Ernesto is former black ops, more specifically psyche ops. He’ll mess you mind nine ways to Sunday and you’ll still say a prayer for him.
The lights finally went out as the mist rolled in off the SOund. All horrors seem to come from Conneticut. The Shade was feeding on children. This was not unheard of. But this one was feeding on youth. A vampiric pedophile that kepts his innocent playthings immortal. So they’d never grow up. Never age, never be too old for him.
Then I felt the thumps on the roof. It sent a few of it’s puppets at me. I plowed into the woods with the girl babbling in Spanish. The puppets are servitors, feral Nosferatum dead pale alabaster skinned with verticle mouths up the center of their peeled skeletal faces. Their eyes, black as a sharks, no discernable nose. Their limbs appear as a skinless corpse of muscle, flesh and exposed bone. They were robed in black and strong as Johnny Walker blue but without the smoothness.
My truck skidded as it hit the wood. The two flew off. Bounced off the trees none the worse for wear. I was lightly armed, one Barong, and my Cavalry sabre. I thought of the duel I fought in Port Jerrson son long ago, and I thought of Emma.
One was going for the girl, One for me.
The one going for the girl smashed my side window and was trying to pull her out. I was more worried about the the smarter one. It would skin me and wear my flesh. After of course feeding on me for it’s master.
It fought with a katar and scimitar. It swung the scimitar hitting Roxanne on the hood with a loudish clang. I dodged. Lunged then took to the air with a cavalry cut. It swept under with the katar and we spun giving me enough of an opening to clip it on the back of the head. The hit would have killed a human. I just managed to irritate it. It backhanded my sending me into the trees about twenty feet. It looked at me and charged. It came at my in prima. I went to quarta. It swung. I parried and splayed down. It was committing too much to the thrust, not out of carelessness but opportunism, it was biting at my chest. I pommeled it onn both sides of it’s head, and then brought my blades across. Taking off it’s head.
The sun would get rid of the evidence. The girl was gone but now I had a trail.
man who could not be killed part 3 - Earth and Sky
Gods it was cold. Following the trail in the snow. Then I saw the blood. Dammit it was mine. I grabbed my cell and with numb fingers dialed Ernesto. I couldn’t afford to lose conscoi………….
GABRIEL/BETH - Chalice speaks to you in whispers.
So cold………
He was the definition of solidity, as if no other form of matter could define him. She was his complimentary antonym. Ethreal, intangible
RONIN – I am a fortress.
GABRIEL – Castles isolate.
Parry, dodge.
GABRIEL – And all eventually fall under siege.
As part of this I got to describe thr training. I'll do it in three words. It ain't easy.
Chalice will tell you what she can of her champions. My teacher was Gabriel Cross and his wife Beth. Gabe was strong, surly, mean and gifted. He always told me.
GABRIEL - You got the hands of a pianist, too bad you got the ears of a stone.
RONIN - Don't have the makings of an artist.
GABRIEL - Then all you'll ever be able to draw is blood.
He was a jazz musician and everything came from him in waves of geometric improvisation. Beth ,his wife, was the devout one. They split the tasks of my education. He taught me the blade and she taught me to see. Gabe had the titanium balls for a black man to marry a Jewish girl against both their families wishes in the 1930's. Beth could lay down a beating as well as any. As a team of hunters they were forthright and meticulous. But beth always the more spiritual one always called me to her"golem". I was always more mehcanical in my faith a construct of clay and rage. She knew from the first day that I loved them. But knew I would never admit it. Except in prose where I could chalk up any sentiment to scotch.
Smoke wafted through their brownstone in Harlem. SHe respecting my gift for language and bearing teeth for my lack of self discipline.
RONIN - I was beginning to think my name was big ugly white guy.
Parry - ripost - hit - dammit.
GABRIEL - I'll just call you high yellow.
Then Beth would train me.
SHe whacked me on the back of the head. I used to think that it was Hebrew for Affection.
GABRIEL – GET UP!!!!!
BETH - If you die because of your recless abandon.
RONIN - That's hurtful.
She lands a punch to the solar plexius.
BETH - Which hurts more? You sholudn't be throwing around your metaphors like that.
GABRIEL - The boy invites disaster.
BETH – You can’t rely on fortitude, there is also agility.
I continued.
RONIN - If I die.
BETH - When you die. be specific.
RONIN - WHen I die. It better not be because of carelessness.
BETH - Carelessness is cowardice of planning.
RONIN - SO when I die.
GABRIEL/CHALICE – GET UP!!!!!!
BETH - Don't bother to haunt me. Ghosts are easy to ignore.
Well some are anyway.
RONIN - I'm gutted that you said that.
She tipped her head and looked up at me with those big brown animae eyes, drawing a steel Hibbon Claw lightly across my engorged stomach.
BETH - Be glad I gutted you with words.
There was a kiai. Then I lost consciousness.
The training and basic information takes about a year. Wisdom takes longer. After one too many raps to the head he'd gently yet forcibly grab my by my once ample hair.
GABRIEL - Your head although you don't use it for a damn thing, is only good for a hatrack if you keep giving it to me.
Then I lost consciousness.
They introduced me to Emma and knew that she was the one person I couldn't bully, fight, outthink, or fuck my way passed.
GABRIEL - Some day you'll learn.
BETH - I just hope we'll be around to see it. Oh the mockery that would ensue.
RONIN - Alot of mockery?
GABRIEL - Mockery, In buckets and barrels, flooding the lowlands and filling the gullies.
RONIN - You wound me.
I said jokingly. Then I lost consciousness.
Rince and repeat.
GABRIEL/CHALICE/BETH – GET UP!!!!!!!!
I awoke to Ernesto and Calico. The safehouse. Calico was curled up ficklely at th foot of the Bed.
ERNESTO – Big Dumb ass Viking. You are a bitch to carry.
CALICO – He’s been complainy all night.
ERNESTO – And you don’t complain.
CALICO – I’ve accepted my divinity.
RONIN – I don’t mean to blaspheme then. But where is the girl? I don’t even know her name.
ERNESTO – You speak six languages and you don’t speak Spanish.
CALICO – Same reason he doesn’t read Harry Potter, false non conformity.
RONIN – Good to see you too Kitty.
ERNESTO – You lost her, It’ll be daybreak soon. We can search for her then.
man who could not be killed part 4 - Disposal
Calico was tracing the scars on Ronin’s chest. With a long nail. She was one of Gabriel and Beths’s as well.
CALICO – It’s like a roadmap to Hell.
RONIN – You are a sweetheart. And if I recall you gave me some of these.
CALICO – Only a few. I plan on adding more.
RONIN – So it’s a work in progress
Calico kisses him gently on the center of the chest. Followed by a gentle bite. Like a signature. She had luxiorius long brown hair this daughter of Bast. The eyes were golden like the luster of sunlight on the ocean. She was grace.
CALICO – Lake will see you soon, she needs you to crack the cypher on that document for her.
RONIN – The one from the vatican archives?
Calico turned away and gleefully hopped up the stairs two at a time.
Ronin got to his feet. He heard the stacatto rhythym of Ernesto’s cane as he went down the stairs. An echo of memory came. Emma, blood, snow, the snow had has a shining surface from frozen rain the night before. It gleamed, like a knife. She was begin dragged.
DANTE – SHE’S TURNED PUT HER DOWN RO!!!!!!!!!
Ronin shuttered at the memory as Ernesto came. The leg ravaged by an old battle. The cane beatifully hand carved.
Victim number three is on the table if you want to look. They had found the body a few days earlier near a dumpster in Bellport behind a clsed down diner. SEX written in purplish spraypain on a dark green dumpster. A starved german shephered mix on a choker also tied to it. It had been sick and dying gnawing on the corpse. The corpse was also small, youngish, south american most likely. Sold into prostitution. She was being forced fed, methanoll alchohol for evidence removal. To keep her from changing. This vamp. The Vampire peophile was most likely using the coyotes to bring illegals across the border and keeping them as slaves. Undocumented and unmissed, he self lost in uncaring and delibearely blind translation.
Having seen enough autopsies. He knew the drill but the smell assaulted his senses like a cult leaders incessent rants.
RONIN – What’s that smell.
ERNESTO – Formaldyhyde. Mehanol metabolizes in the body as formaldehyde. As you can see she has massive eye damage. If you look ather damaged liver and kidneys as well.
RONIN - Christ.
ERNESTO - Bless yourself you heathen.
I did as I was told. A well trained catholic.
RONIN - Moonshine, wood in the mash.
ERNESTO - Whomever this is has a still.
RONIN - How was it ingested.
ERNESTO - Most likely alcohol bath and force feeding.
RONIN - How long.
ERNESTO - gotta get to her, soon.
Ernesto muttered something in spanish. All i could get was that in was a Hail Mary. I may not have Spanish but I have enough italian to make sense of it. Enresto studied to be a priest in his younger days. The dogma sloughed off like old skin but the colloid faith was apparent.
The feeding was ritualized, jugular and femoral. The master vamp was concerned only about turning a few but not all.
ENRESTO – The master vampire wants them clean. The cleansing of the inside as well as the out. She was most likely blind and half mad from the poisoning. Like whatever it is tried to purge the original sin from her. She’s been dead too long for Blue to read anything from her.
RONIN – How’s Roxanne.
ERNESTO – She’s putting herself back together.
RONIN – my gear.
ERNESTO – Safe and secure.
RONIN – You called him didn’t you?
ERNESTO – Both of them.
RONIN – I got no issue with the Mic but ……..
ENRNESTO – You need a crew again. Start training and teaching again.
RONIN – Chalice has me writing….
ERNESTO – You’re out of it. Hit the sack. If I’m right and that’s a given, you’ll be storming a slave brothel by tonight We might as well use the power outage to our advantage.
man who could not be killed - part 5 - preparations and reparations by jeremy Webb
I startled awake, to a largish shadow looming over me that smelled of gun oil and coffee.
Dante- Well, don’t you just look like shit.
I sat up with a grunt, gratefully accepting the large cup of steaming coffee from the man.
Ronin- It was a tough night.
Dante sat back in the chair next to the bed, idly toying with the grips on his pistols. If he was here, I thought….damn.
Dante- So Chalice told me. You know the drill man, one of you gets hurt, I get the call. ESPECIALLY you.
I tried to stand angrily, my temper getting the better of me before my wounds caused the room to spin slightly. It almost reminded me of many a drunken brawl the two of us had had in their time. Before her.
Ronin- Take your rules and blow them out your-
Dante calmly put his hand to my solar plexus and shoved him back into the bed. He used more force than was probably needed, but given the history between the two of us, it was a scant drop in the bucket of pain he had promised me one day.
Dante- Will you just slow the fuck down! I never said you couldn’t handle it, or that you were off this hunt. What she ever even saw in your sorry ass… You’d think you would know the rules better by now…
Ronin- DO NOT bring her up now you bastard!
Of course he would bring Emma up, and why not? She WAS his sister, after all, and he still carried a white hot core of rage at me for getting her turned and then forcing me to take her down. She was always so willful, it was what drew me to her, fellow rebels. She told him to get bent and trained to be a hunter despite his demanding she not. Then I had to go and take her out before she was ready…
Dante stared steadily at me. Our past was a complex web of love, hate, betrayal, sadness and battle. One day, he knew one of us would put down the other, and THAT was going to be quite the tale.
Dante- I will bring her up whenever I fucking feel like it, I earned that right when YOU failed her. Now, I already have Seamus getting you some new kit, and Ernesto thinks he can get you on your feet today. You and I both know the leech that took the girl wouldn’t be able to feed on her that close to sunrise, so we have until sundown to find its lair and get her back.
Seamus came into the room at that moment and handed a large package to Dante with a curt nod to me. Dante accepted the package and slapped the big Irishman on the arm.
Dante- You do these up right, you dumb Mick?
Seamus nodded without rising to the bait. Dante always liked to press his buttons, it was his way of showing affection to the Irishman. Truth was, Seamus was one of Chalice’s better armourers, and was for some inexplicable reason fond of Dante.
Seamus- Aye precious, I did. Even the Viking here would be hard pressed ta break these pretties.
Dante unwrapped the weapons and tossed them into my lap. Barongs, made from Dante’s favorite ironwood Quebracho, and inlaid with silver filigree in graceful celtic knotwork. The shades were sure to hate them.
Dante- So you ready for round two?
man who could not be killed part 6
I followed Dante down stairs, much slower than I would have liked. Damn, I must be getting too old for this after all. Maybe Chalice is right…
CHALICE: As always, you see the simple truth.
GABRIEL: The truth is always simple.
BETH: Not to him.
CHALICE: At least there is symmetry.
RONIN: Stay out of my thoughts boss, at least give me SOME privacy!
Dante snorted. Ronin looked at his brother, calm, cool, professional. He felt the pangs of love and respect. Emma and the deaths of those he considered parents.
DANTE: Yeah, like THAT’S ever going to happen.
He led me into the living room, where Seamus had co-opted the entire room to layout all the gear for the hunt. But by the Gods, this didn’t look to be a hunt as much as an invasion by all accounts! Calico reclined as she was want to do.
Her gear simple missiles and knives, another one of Beth's, “If you are small use it”. Ernesto was in his rare form after an act of contrition, aware of the irony. My Berettas were surgically clean. The satellite recon of the complex was spread out on the table.
SEAMUS: Right then my pretties, let’s get to it. What I’ve got here is pretty standard stuff really.
I picked up a massive clip that looked to be loaded with 50cal rounds.
RONIN: THIS is standard? For what, shooting a hole in God?
Calico chuckled. Ernesto crossed himself then slapped me in the back of the
head. Even Dante shared a all too brief smile then snatched the clip from my hands.
DANTE: No, those are standard incendiary armor piercing rounds for Bessie, now pay attention!
Dante set the clip down next to the biggest damn rifle I’d ever seen. A Barrett M82A1, the one riflein the world he would deem fit to use. I had to say it,cleaners definitely don’t arm light. Ernesto looked at it with the quiet appreciation of amateur artist staring at a Jackson Pollack and feeling dirty for coveting the talent. But he and his own rifle had a torrid history all of their own.
SEAMUS: Bessie and I will provide cover for the entire action. Her scope’s been specially made by me, infrared tagged at the much colder range the leeches and their pets live in. You lot will show up as blues while they are nice and red.Now then, you each get your standard kit, shotguns with wooden flechette rounds,flash bangs, silver nitrate spray, and each of ye will be carrying a few o’these beauties.
Seamus held up a coffee can with an odd little box on top.
RONIN: Coffee?
DANTE: Sterno, packed over a core of Tannerite explosive. The timer is the
really fun part. Seamus rigged up of all things the timer from the old game
Perfection to set off a .22 slug that blows the Tannerite, which in turns makes the sterno go all ‘asplodey on the leeches.
RONIN: Why Sterno?
SEAMUS: Because precious, the military version is called napalm. They have a still.
RONIN: Essentially, a bomb.
SEAMUS: Give the man a ceegar!
Dante reached into his com vest pocket and took a few Cubans. He threw one to each of us. Beth always taught us the importance of ritual.
The things these two knew, it was enough to give you nightmares. Or give
nightmares to nightmares.
DANTE: Allright, Seamus on overwatch, and the rest of use in two teams. Primary is containment of the next and it’s destruction, secondary is the girl along with anyone else they’ve got still alive and untainted.
Dante held a finger up at me, knowing I was rising to my feet.
DANTE: Stow it hunter- this is now a cleaner operation, and my call. IF we find the girl and can get to her without losing a leech or his stenches, then fine,but don’t think for a second I won’t blow the whole place with you in it if I have to in order to cleanse this mess.
CHALICE: Spare him a little child, he has his faults, true. But he means well.
Dante looked right through me, the death stare all too apparent.
DANTE: You made the rules boss, now I get to enforce them.
Dante went over the details of the approaches, possible exits from the nest,likely trap zones. He was in his element, as if time had not passed as it had and he was still in his old Ranger unit. His was a life of never ending conflict, and he LIKED it that way. Once he finished up, everyone got to gathering their gear. Seamus hefted Bessie, along with his Weatherby revolver. I swear he kissed the receiver on Bessie like she was his best girl- which knowing him she probably was. Calico gathered her blades, and tucked a compact Walther into her right boot top. Ernesto took an immaculate looking M1 Garand from a kitbag he’d brought into the room, going over it with practiced hands- like I said, he and his rifle had a history all their own. I took up my Berettas,noticing small boxes under the barrels.
DANTE: We took the liberty of adding UV targeting lasers to your guns there Ro.Given how lousy you shoot, they will at least help you hit closer to the middle of that broadside you always seem to miss.
Seamus chuckled and I flipped them both off. Dante loaded up a few drums for his AA12, then slung up his Gladius style blade over his right shoulder and strapped a strange looking device on his left forearm. It looked like a small drum of metal, with a slender stack of fan shaped blades running up his forearm.
RONIN: What is that thing?
Dante looked up at me, then clenched his left fist. The fans snapped around in a blurring arc, locking together into a perfect buckler style shield. I was duly impressed.
DANTE: You never know…
Part 7, the Man who could not be killed - Black and Grey, by Scott Ferrara and Jeremy Webb
The crew all piled into Roxanne. Dante, Seamus, Ernesto crammed into the back, while Calico slid into the front next to me. Cuddling up a bit as cats were want to do. If we survived there was always the party, the drinking and the sex. Chalice came to each of us in her own way to offer blessings and hope for our survival. She appeared to me, and me alone, as the blood spattered corpse of Emma.
Chalice – Be strong my knight.
Dante – She’s talking to you now, isn’t she?
Ronin – I’m her champion.
Dante snorted in derision.
Dante – Some fucking champion.
Chalice – Despite her blood, you will always be brothers. Brothers by choice.
Ronin – I miss her so much.
Dante glanced at Ronin, then stared off into the distance, his fist banging gently on Ronin’s shoulder.
Dante – So do I.
Then, as if a chorus, they all appeared.
Beth – To die in service is a good way to die, Golem.
Gabriel – You are no longer the man who couldn’t be killed.
Chalice, Gabriel, Beth – You are the man who wouldn’t die.
I started Roxanne up. The engine roared, like a steed eager for battle. We head to route 112, on a few back roads. Chalice will wreak havoc with local law enforcement. The off to Whiskey road, a twisted artery of traffic where the workers were paid in hooch. Signs of mathematical certainties greater than, less than, dotted the roadside reminding us how it all falls to numbers.
The precinct will have a visitation, a large black man carrying a very wounded little woman in his arms. The desk sergeant will get to work, helping them and suddenly his body won’t be his own, albeit temporarily.
Ernesto – Always a good sign. Once more unto the breach?
Seamus – You know Shakespeare was actually Irish? Prolonged English conspiracy, that.
Ernesto – That’s where you’re wrong.
Dante’s chin dropped to his chest, and he pinched the bridge of his nose, as if to ward off a migraine.
Seamus – And how am I wrong?
Ernesto – He was Spanish, I was a priest I know these things.
Dante- Will you two please not have this fucking argument again?!?!?!
We turned onto another back road. Fresh snow had fallen and the flint grey skies begged for more white. The house was a two story dilapidated mess, surrounded by woods, pine and scrub oak on all sides. Most would rightly assume with the motorcycles out front that it’s a meth lab. A palpable air of agitation will keep most of the locals away. It’s like an irritation, like spiders crawling on your skin. Three servitors were in the woods. The still was outside to the left of the house. A quick IR scan shows, several more servitors, 3 shades and a few victims scattered throughout. The house was on the verge of collapse, missing persons collect in such places as the last refuge of the damned. Seamus placed himself in the tree line. Ernesto, Dante, Calico and I went in. Dante quietly drew a stick magazine from his ammo pouch and slotted it into his AA12. He raised it and took aim at the front door, firing off a ten round burst that drained the magazine in a heartbeat. The FRAG 12 grenade rounds made a mockery of the door and blasted a lethal cloud of fragmentation shards into the foyer behind it, clearing us a toehold into the lair.
Ronin – Subtle, brother.
The deadish arose with a collective moan. They had seen the black on the other side. They had felt the loneliness and isolation. There was no white but the stinging crystals falling from the sky.
We had a countdown until the still was going to go up. Then the children came. All the shade’s fantasies in small immortal bodies, cute as a button, sex toys seeking blood. My Storms bellowed thunder, quick efficient shots. Calico disappeared, to plant the explosives on the still as the place reeked of antiseptic.
Shooting children, even centuries old children, is never easy. There
is only the mission and the cold hand about your throat. Wondering that if there was a just God. You would die now and never see this. Dante was a pro, firing into the crowd. His only god was the black. He smiled and laughed. His shotgun spewing round after round of deadly flechettes and #2 titanium alloy shot. I was looking for the girl. When the corpse assaulted Ernesto there was an epiphany of blood, said to an Our Father. He was Latin old school. Then the Shade appeared, as big as a mountain. His biceps were bigger than my bullets. Silver nitrate burned his skin like an Arizona midday, a dry heat. . Smoke and flesh smelled like a quiet Sunday summer afternoon barbeque. Sometimes even professionals must resist the urge salivate.
It had this hand and a half, a sword of muscle. Dante gave it a taste of shot, then dropped his shotgun and drew his sword, snapping his shield into place with a flick.
DANTE – Find the girl!
RONIN – That’s not my mission!
DANTE – This is my op asshole!
RONIN – You wanna die? Fuck you, do it on your own time!
Barong and Cavalry Sabre drawn I went in. His first hit was an avalanche of
muscle. My jaw SHATTERED. Drop parry, weapon sliding off the sabre. Sidestep
behind him. His man killing weapon was too slow. A quick spin and the blades
went down. Gabe told me to hit hard and fast, Beth be true to your faith. And in the end he couldn’t imagine a mere fleshling fighting him. Mid section sweep and a tuck. Hand roll across the throat. I spoke through a tattered jaw.
RONIN – You ffffuckign head itthhh mine!!!
The servitors came. And I HACKED. Dante spun into the midst of them, alternating between shield punches and efficient cuts, even the edges of the shield were sharp. For a moment I thought he was in the arenas of old Rome and he was a gladiator taking task to the criminals his masters sent to their deaths for the entertainment of the masses. God, he was a scary fighter to watch. “We who are about to die, salute you.”
Freed from the servitors I turned back into the Shade, my heavy blade to those gargantuan arms. Bringing the blades up under the arms and trying to sever them.Seamus fired Bessie, the round bisecting the Shade under its armpit and punching out the other side in a welter of gore and smoke, then traveling into a servitor and exploding it in a crimson mist. The shade looked angry more than hurt, and it had just taken a round from what was in effect an anti tank weapon. One arm came off its body, and I dropped my barong and drew my pistol. Burying my sabre in its guts and firing the storm as I grabbed hold. I ran, carrying the beast into the sun. Burnt meat and embers flew as it held onto me. Ash choked my lungs as its body was engulfed in fire. The burns were covering my face and torso. It kept fighting, hammering with its fist. I ended up with broken ribs and a punctured lung before Dante waded past and took off its other arm at the elbow. It finally went up completely when he spun and took off the head.
Dante – I never said you weren’t brave, brother. A idiot maybe, but a brave one. I know Chalice appears As Emma to you. She always has.
With that I rose and fired. Bullets whippings passed his ears into the oncoming servitor.
Ronin – Looksth like I hith the barn.
Then I fell flat onto my face, the wounds finally too much for me. Massive internal injuries, but the black just didn’t want me.
Seamus/Dante – Lucky shot.
Calico was running through the warrens, taking servitors. Ernesto was with her going through clips for his Garand while he mouthed his Rosary. Both had given up on stealth. Then they found the girl. Ernesto emerged bloodied and bladed. Calico smiled. The lost lonely girl, the one life I needed to save.
She walked over to me and my demolished body. Stroked my hair and shattered jaw. Chalice will expedite the healing.
GIRL – Monstros
Ernesto was going to translate, but I understood.
“Monstros” Was all she said. And I didn’t know if she was referring to them or us.
