Valhalla Rising [Jameson + Lethia]

[Triton]

Prying the axe from the fallen man’s skull with a stomach-churning squelch and a splash of grey mush against the floor, the muscle-bound behemoth gave a long suffering sigh and slipped his boot under the risen, and subsequently re-killed corpse’s shoulder, and kicked him over onto his back. The man wore a tattered suit and tie, either was grimy and threadbare from years of neglect. It was unusual, he thought, to find one of these creatures as aged as this one, for as long as they had apparently plagued the town. There would be little of use on him, besides the ear that would net him his bounty.

It was grisly work, but it was work that he enjoyed. While there were bigger bounties and badder creatures that skulked in the dark, he figured that he would work his way toward them, in time, opting to instead take the safer route of learning what he could about the things that were here, and what it was that he could and couldn’t handle on his own. Perhaps, he thought, it would be better to find a group. Surely the larger of the things here would be worth more of a bounty, and would provide him with so much more of a challenge than these sprites.

He lifted the dead man’s suit jacket and wiped the sludgy blood from the blade of his axe, before he stood and turned to see the dead, bleary glare of a woman standing inches from him. How she had managed to stumble so near him without his noticing, he couldn’t know. She was a tiny waif of a thing, a stiff breeze could have snapped her in half. There was little more to her than skin and bones and straw-dry hair. He lifted his arm to abruptly stop her lunge, only for her to grasp hold of him and tighten her grip of his forearm. Milky, dead eyes stared emotionlessly into him, her mouth hanging open in a soundless scream as saliva rolled from her lips as she leaned in to try and bite him.

He felt like he should panic, but he didn’t. Something in him told him this was hardly the worst thing that was going to happen to him tonight, and with a mighty shove, he sent the thing flying away from him and crashing into a wall, sending her to the floor in a heap. As the adrenaline began to abate, a stinging ache began to spread through his side, and, lifting his hand to his abdomen, he felt a warm wetness that he hadn’t expected. He lifted his hand to inspect, and found it covered in blood.

His blood.

He looked down, and came to realize that, during the struggle with the little zombie, he had been shot. Whether it had been on purpose, one of the other bounty hunters in the area after the little thing he’d broken, or a complete accident, he wouldn’t know. He laughed, the sound mirthless as he placed his hand over the wound, doing what little he could to keep pressure on the spot, though black blood pumped between his fingers at an alarming rate, surely not a good sign.

Glancing around, he decided that leaving was in his best interest, and hooked his axe through the loop on his belt and hurried himself back toward the checkpoint, and hopefully to a medic before it was too late. Barely a block before he reached the abandoned fire department, he collapsed. Too weak to carry himself anymore, he growled to himself and pulled himself to the side of the abandoned street and leaned himself against the wall of a grimy building that had been left to rot quite some time ago, and did his best to try and rest. Maybe, if he took a minute to gather his strength, he could drag himself the rest of the way. And if not, then at least he died fighting. It was all that he could ask for.

[Lethia]

“Ms. Desdemona?”

The lack of cell service in her hideout caused the voice to come in as static, a low whine piercing her ear as she tried to adjust the position of the ancient brick she liked to call her cellphone. Try as she might, Jameson hadn’t been able to convince her to upgrade to something within this century, believing that they were far too easy to hack into. After all, she had witnessed enough bloodshed in her few short years as a criminal photographer to know all of the horror stories attached to new technology. It had taken a lot of bribery from the chief for her to purchase this phone. At least with this one, she could theoretically toss it from the top of a building and it’d come away with nothing more than a scratch. She’d like to see that sleek glass iPhone of Jameson’s survive something similar.

“Yes?”

It had taken her a moment to respond, and she heard the shuffle of clothing on the other end as the caller brought the phone back to their ear, their breathing labored. “There’s another one. It’s gruesome. It’s ******* bad. It’s sick. I don’t think anyone has been called yet. If they have, you still have time. Just go to ---” As the caller rambled off the address, Lethia began to pack up the gear she’d need. Most of her equipment was already bagged and ready to go, but something told her to stop at the small black fridge near her front door. With a shake of her head, she peeled open the door and rummaged around for a few blood packs, uncertain as to why she kept them – or felt compelled to bring them now. It wasn’t as if she needed it, but she was never one to ignore intuition. Carefully placing the plastic into a small pouch on the side of her camera bag, she snapped her phone shut as the voice on the other line continued to speak in a frantic and excited voice, effectively cutting them off.

Met with silence, she shoved the phone into the back pocket of her jeans and tossed her multicolored hair over her shoulder before gathering it up and tucking it beneath a black beanie. Only a few strands fell free, the neon green and orange bringing out the odd coloring of her eyes. If anyone was able to identify her, she’d have a new appearance by tomorrow evening. Scrawling a quick message for Jameson, she taped it to the wall with a skull sticker and bounced out the door, her combat boots kicking up gravel and dust as she made her way across the cemetery. The address given hadn’t been far from the crypt, and so she only had time to play one song, before the scent of blood hit her.

Oh, holy ****.

It was strong.
Too strong.

With it came the strong stench of death and decay, and if she trained her ears, she swore she could already hear the soft buzz of insects as they hovered around the still hidden body. Releasing a breath, she lowered the strap of her bag and pulled out her camera, knowing there was no way the authorities hadn’t been contacted. Of course, she had every right to be here. It was, after all, her job – but being here before the police would bring questions she didn’t feel like answering. Shaking her head, she inched closer to the smell, the soft squish of blood beneath her boot causing her to shudder.

“I wonder what it was this time. Zombie? Mooncalf? I wish you could answer me and tell me what I’m about to witn—“ Her words cut off as she rounded the corner and finally caught sight of the body, his clothing torn and the scent of his blood overpowering. His hair was thick with blood and the crimson splattered across his body as if someone had dumped a gallon of paint over him. Oh, this was overkill, she thought with a touch of venom as she lifted her camera and began to snap picture after picture, the sound of the device whirring and the click of the capture button the only noise within the darkness before the distant wail of the sirens broke through.

“****.”

Quickly checking the memory card, she let the camera fall around her neck as she crouched next to the body, prepared to do something to offer him a little more decency – when she felt him twitch. He can’t possibly be alive, she thought, just as a low and breathy groan rumbled from his chest. “****, you are alive. Okay. I can’t just leave you here. Too many questions, and come on, somehow you survived a frenzied feeding. Something tells me you won’t go down without a fight. I don’t know how to turn you, though. Do I just – no, that might kill you. ****. Jameson.” As her sire’s name left her black painted lips, she flipped open her cellphone and pressed speed-dial for the small redhead, gaze bouncing from his rapidly paling face to the sight of the pulsing police lights as they grew closer. The second her sire answered, she gave her the location and nothing more, the phone slipping from her grasp as the man before her began to convulse.