Re: Cures and Mayhem [invite]
Posted: 21 Sep 2017, 04:13
[FOR THE CURE]
This is the city of the dead, and I’m just another victim.
Pressing her back to the wall, she clutched her eyes closed as she listened for the shuffling of feet along the corridor floor. It was the same every ******* night. These putrid, pathetic creatures ambled around without rhyme or reason, and she would cut them down, only to have ten more emerge in their place. They were like nothing she had ever seen before, with their bones playing peek-a-book against their decaying flesh, and the larger beasts were something straight out of ******* Frankenstein. She swore she had nightmares of their gaping maws and sightless eyes. It didn’t matter how easy her blade tore through their skin, or how quickly they crumbled into pieces at her feet, she still hated them.
They almost disgusted her more than the foul, cold skinned fangers that prowled her city.
Night after night, she kept finding herself sinking into the dark pit of the sewers and edging her way towards the Catacombs, if only for a few moments of respite from him. Night after night, she silenced her phone to the relentless inquires about her whereabouts, and night after goddamned night, she would finally crack beneath their incessant pestering and demand that his lapdogs fucked off. It seemed that they were finally beginning to get the picture that she had no want nor need for their protection, especially within the dank, damp corridors of the Catacombs. She was far above their skill, and yet, she still found herself tearing through them like paper to pick apart their belongings.
“******* idiots,” she muttered harshly as she waited for the lumbering, stitched together giant to round the corner, her eyes finally opening to focus on the cracks within the ceiling. When its grotesque head finally came into her view, she pulled her rifle to her shoulder, gloved finger pressing tight to the trigger as she fired a few rounds into his skull. The bullets ripped through his eye like a knife through butter, and she couldn’t contain the coy grin that spread across her painted lips as she watched it fall forward. She knew the trajectory like the back of her hand, and as it stumbled into that familiar song and dance, its heavy arm swinging for her, she waited until the last second before twisting out of its path.
“Nice try, ******.”
Her laugh was as light as air as the sole of her combat boot scraped against the concrete, and when it fell forward in a feeble attempt to try another attack, she tossed her rifle over her shoulder and pulled her sword free. The trade-off was as smooth as water, and she was swinging before it had even managed to fall forward another step. Her blade connected with its skull with a sickening crunch, dislodging bone and sending chunks of flesh soaring through the air as it fell forward, body twitching in its final act of death, and she bent down to yank a loose bone free from its spine. “******* disgusting. I will never understand why Osmond demands these things.” Dropping it into her pack carelessly, she stepped over the corpse to head towards the door, just as the chime of her phone echoed off the walls.
The Sword of Gabriel is prepared to strike.
The message was clear, and despite her hatred for blindly following his command, she found herself picking up speed. By the time she reached the heavy doors she was in a full run, her hair blowing wildly behind her. Something told her that if he were in there alone, he wouldn’t make it out. He was that type of man, and she couldn’t blame him. Everything in their blood called for them to eradicate the fuckers that preyed on the weak, and as she jumped into her car, foot on the pedal before she’d even shut her door, she could feel the adrenaline rush through her veins. A cure. It was so ******* laughable. What part of their world made her believe that a cure was what was needed for the beasts?
They did nothing but spread their disease throughout her city and force their will upon them. They didn’t deserve the ******* cure. They deserve death. She wouldn’t be satisfied until each and everyone was wiped from existence, their entire race vanquished. She knew, deep within his heart, Ephraim felt the same dark, twisted need. He had witnessed firsthand the horrors that could be dealt at their hands. She didn’t bother to respond to the message as she flung the car around a corner, taking it far faster than she needed, nor did she heed the blaring of horns as she cut across the grass to the pinned location. “Get out of here. If we need you, we’ll call,”she snapped as she leaped from the driver’s seat, only to have Jenna slide into her place, her eyes wide. If it had been another time, Sawyer might have regretted the dangerous methods to their arrival, but she knew the woman didn’t mind.
Besides, there wasn’t time.
Leaving her rifle behind, the lithe brunette made her way towards the doors, her blade held easily in the palm of her hand. It fit her like a glove, carefully crafted by the very man she was heading towards. He had taken time with it, ensuring that the metal was weighed perfectly and that the hilt was comfortable within her usually trembling hands. While she was unstoppable and possessed strength no one her size should ever have, her addiction had left her flawed in many ways. Even now, as she stepped inside, her arm swinging in a wide arc as the first vampire made its attack, her hand shook. It did nothing to deter her attack, and she watched with a slow, wicked grin as his throat opened to spill blood across the floor.
“I figured you would try to keep me under lock and key, boss,” she taunted as she stepped to his side, her stunning blue gaze finding the same barrel that he had found himself facing. “I’m with him.” It was the only words she needed to speak, and she found a card slipped her way, and as she tucked it into the pocket of her jeans she tapped her blade against the ground and stared at the feast before her, like a kid at a candy store.
“So, ready to **** their world up?”
This is the city of the dead, and I’m just another victim.
Pressing her back to the wall, she clutched her eyes closed as she listened for the shuffling of feet along the corridor floor. It was the same every ******* night. These putrid, pathetic creatures ambled around without rhyme or reason, and she would cut them down, only to have ten more emerge in their place. They were like nothing she had ever seen before, with their bones playing peek-a-book against their decaying flesh, and the larger beasts were something straight out of ******* Frankenstein. She swore she had nightmares of their gaping maws and sightless eyes. It didn’t matter how easy her blade tore through their skin, or how quickly they crumbled into pieces at her feet, she still hated them.
They almost disgusted her more than the foul, cold skinned fangers that prowled her city.
Night after night, she kept finding herself sinking into the dark pit of the sewers and edging her way towards the Catacombs, if only for a few moments of respite from him. Night after night, she silenced her phone to the relentless inquires about her whereabouts, and night after goddamned night, she would finally crack beneath their incessant pestering and demand that his lapdogs fucked off. It seemed that they were finally beginning to get the picture that she had no want nor need for their protection, especially within the dank, damp corridors of the Catacombs. She was far above their skill, and yet, she still found herself tearing through them like paper to pick apart their belongings.
“******* idiots,” she muttered harshly as she waited for the lumbering, stitched together giant to round the corner, her eyes finally opening to focus on the cracks within the ceiling. When its grotesque head finally came into her view, she pulled her rifle to her shoulder, gloved finger pressing tight to the trigger as she fired a few rounds into his skull. The bullets ripped through his eye like a knife through butter, and she couldn’t contain the coy grin that spread across her painted lips as she watched it fall forward. She knew the trajectory like the back of her hand, and as it stumbled into that familiar song and dance, its heavy arm swinging for her, she waited until the last second before twisting out of its path.
“Nice try, ******.”
Her laugh was as light as air as the sole of her combat boot scraped against the concrete, and when it fell forward in a feeble attempt to try another attack, she tossed her rifle over her shoulder and pulled her sword free. The trade-off was as smooth as water, and she was swinging before it had even managed to fall forward another step. Her blade connected with its skull with a sickening crunch, dislodging bone and sending chunks of flesh soaring through the air as it fell forward, body twitching in its final act of death, and she bent down to yank a loose bone free from its spine. “******* disgusting. I will never understand why Osmond demands these things.” Dropping it into her pack carelessly, she stepped over the corpse to head towards the door, just as the chime of her phone echoed off the walls.
The Sword of Gabriel is prepared to strike.
The message was clear, and despite her hatred for blindly following his command, she found herself picking up speed. By the time she reached the heavy doors she was in a full run, her hair blowing wildly behind her. Something told her that if he were in there alone, he wouldn’t make it out. He was that type of man, and she couldn’t blame him. Everything in their blood called for them to eradicate the fuckers that preyed on the weak, and as she jumped into her car, foot on the pedal before she’d even shut her door, she could feel the adrenaline rush through her veins. A cure. It was so ******* laughable. What part of their world made her believe that a cure was what was needed for the beasts?
They did nothing but spread their disease throughout her city and force their will upon them. They didn’t deserve the ******* cure. They deserve death. She wouldn’t be satisfied until each and everyone was wiped from existence, their entire race vanquished. She knew, deep within his heart, Ephraim felt the same dark, twisted need. He had witnessed firsthand the horrors that could be dealt at their hands. She didn’t bother to respond to the message as she flung the car around a corner, taking it far faster than she needed, nor did she heed the blaring of horns as she cut across the grass to the pinned location. “Get out of here. If we need you, we’ll call,”she snapped as she leaped from the driver’s seat, only to have Jenna slide into her place, her eyes wide. If it had been another time, Sawyer might have regretted the dangerous methods to their arrival, but she knew the woman didn’t mind.
Besides, there wasn’t time.
Leaving her rifle behind, the lithe brunette made her way towards the doors, her blade held easily in the palm of her hand. It fit her like a glove, carefully crafted by the very man she was heading towards. He had taken time with it, ensuring that the metal was weighed perfectly and that the hilt was comfortable within her usually trembling hands. While she was unstoppable and possessed strength no one her size should ever have, her addiction had left her flawed in many ways. Even now, as she stepped inside, her arm swinging in a wide arc as the first vampire made its attack, her hand shook. It did nothing to deter her attack, and she watched with a slow, wicked grin as his throat opened to spill blood across the floor.
“I figured you would try to keep me under lock and key, boss,” she taunted as she stepped to his side, her stunning blue gaze finding the same barrel that he had found himself facing. “I’m with him.” It was the only words she needed to speak, and she found a card slipped her way, and as she tucked it into the pocket of her jeans she tapped her blade against the ground and stared at the feast before her, like a kid at a candy store.
“So, ready to **** their world up?”