Path of the Vampire forum

Given the intensity of the situation they were in, Diego didn’t have the time to consider whether he should be offended or feel even remotely slighted by Az’s words. He couldn’t think of a single time where he’d genuinely been upset by something the other man had said – not even when they were being bratty toward each other. Sometimes Azraeth was like a walking text book, but, that wasn’t a bad thing – not in those wide and adoring green eyes. After all, Diego thought himself to be a handsome son of a ***** – not a genius, or even remotely clever – and was totally cool with it when Az would take the time to spell out even the simplest of things about the most smallest of things. The Brazilian also thought it was pretty cute too, as well as a little bit fascinating, that one man could make the world look like a foreign land as well as one of promise. Maybe it spoke of the Vampire’s detachment from regular society, that he felt like he had to explain even the minute details of a thing to ensure they were on the same page. Diego often viewed Azraeth like some sort of unicorn – a theoretical one, not simply because of any magical horn – but maybe it was actually more like the Vampire’s behaviour was simply a result of Azraeth being a natural guardian; a guiding hand but rarely a forceful one.

After all, Diego didn’t have to be here in the Quarantine Zone shooting up Zombies. He had that choice to walk away; it wasn’t like he felt pressured to conform. The only reason he felt compelled to be there at all was because he was curious about this world beneath his own, this world he knew nothing about, and wanted to get closer to the being who dwelled there and was willing to teach him, take him on that journey. Unlike a lot of people, Diego was not a naturally curious person. Generally he didn’t care about what didn’t affect him – which was both good and bad depending on the perspective. Because it meant that he wasn’t distracted from what he wanted to do and could keep his focus on his goals, but it also meant that he wasn’t very empathetic. Diego didn’t care if someone felt sad because they’d lost a match to him, he was more concerned by his own victory. Likewise he wasn’t bothered that people around him, in this very city, were falling prey to the nocturnal inhabitants of Harper Rock. Diego didn’t care because it wasn’t his neck under the bite, and he didn’t care probably because he felt like he couldn’t do anything about it anyway. There was about as much victory in fighting off a Vampire as there was fighting off time itself. He could probably handle one Zombie though, right?

The Brazilian had found too soon that he had the opportunity to prove to himself – as well as Azraeth – that he was capable of fending off a single Zombie. When the glass of the supermarket window shattered, caving inward like rushing water, the corpse was quick to follow. It carefully threw one leg over the window sill, as if it still had the cognisance to recognise that that was how you got over a waist-high wall. Often in video games, this would be the defining factor in a physics engine – could the player character or NPCs get over such an obstacle or would they be cursed to hobble awkwardly into the barrier? Unfortunately in this case, the Zombie possessed enough brain power not to throw itself through the gap – chompers first – at its meal. Diego gawked at the scrambling corpse, and how it appeared to be far more animated than the Vampire beside him. Sunken, sallow eyes were focused on the beating heart in the room, almost as though it could sense the life in him. It lunged once it had its last foot over the window sill, but stumbled. Gravity took the creature down, its face connecting with the floor in a sickening thump. Diego cursed himself for flinching for a third time in less than five minutes, but recovered quickly.

Despite what the media would have one believe about the natives of Brazil, they didn’t all possess a fundamental understanding of drugs, trafficking, and guns. In fact, before this very moment, Diego had not even held a real gun before. Everything he knew about firearms could be attributed to too many hours playing Call of Duty in his cousin’s basement, or somebody else’s basement. Sao Paulo is one of the most expensive cities to live in Brazil, and one of its most affluent neighbourhoods was Jardins, where the spoilt Brazilian happened to be born. Jardins is an area composed by the neighbourhoods of Jardim Paulistano, Jardim Europa, Jardim Paulista and Cerqueira César. All these upscale neighbourhoods are located southern to Avenida Paulista, towards the Pinheiros River. It is one of the most prestigious areas in São Paulo city because of its proximity to the major financial centres. Suffice it to say, Diego had access to the best money could buy and so he didn’t need to know how to handle a weapon. He had attended a few martial arts classes as a child, he grew up learning how to fight off his brother – and various bullies – and as he got older he learned how to throw a proper punch, but that was as far as the Brazilian’s understanding of self-defence went. So, when the Zombie lunged for his legs and Az seemed to be making no real effort to halt that, Diego’s instinct was to… move out of the way.

It was a tiny bit pathetic and he understood how it didn’t exactly look cool to hop away from the creature that was trying to bite at his ankles, but it seemed like the best solution at the time. Hell, it was his body’s first reaction and he complied with a certain kind of nonchalance that suggested he was side-stepping some semi-conscious mess on the floor. There was no real sense of urgency in his movements, no real sense of fear, just this look of grievance on his face that made it loud and clear that the Brazilian didn’t appreciate that the Zombie was clawing at his pants leg. Instead of a festering corpse; its face marked and oozing with what looked like treacle, its emaciated body dragging fabric with it that might have been clothing at one point, and its desperate and longing stare; Diego side-stepped the intrusion like he was walking past a drunk or a homeless person begging for change. It was an inconvenience, an obstacle that he really would have preferred not to deal with, but perhaps not something that pissed him off to the point of shooting it in the face.

“Urg… Just please don’t touch me,” he grumbled, green eyes watching the creature crawl along its distended belly after him.

As Diego continued to move away from it, he couldn’t help but recognise his actions for child’s play, like a kid pretending the floor is made of lava as he made away from the insistent corpse. Eventually, Diego looked across to his Vampire companion crossly, almost like he was expecting Azraeth to start laughing or roll those starburst eyes at him because Diego was hopping about like the ******* Easter Bunny instead of delivering a fatal blow to the head. He prophesised these instances because he knew one of them had to be true, and that it was likely the latter based on the rather serious nature of their circumstances. He probably should have dealt the creature some peace, granted himself peace in the process from having to jump away from its grasping hands and snapping jaws, but he just didn’t feel that urge to kill. It wasn’t a danger, just a nuisance, and could he kill something just because he didn’t like it? Diego didn’t think about any other eventualities, like the Zombie might break loose and kill someone else, because – again – he didn’t care about anyone who wasn’t him or somebody he cared about. Frankly, the list of people the Brazilian did care about currently housed the two of them in that supermarket.

“Do I really have to kill it?” he whined again, turning green eyes on those impassive dragon-pupils. “It’s like a puppy or something. Seems cruel.”

If Diego had felt like a vulnerable child before now, complaining at the opportunity of finding something he couldn’t deal with and therefore needing the Vampire’s protection, then he had officially just been upgraded to brooding teenager. His attempt to overcome an obstacle by avoiding it, coupled by his whiny and surly disposition during the sluggish chase, could easily have awarded him the label all on its own. But there was more to the equation than simply being a lazy grump. It also didn’t help matters that when Azraeth talked about how he could be bratty and approached to brush his cheek against the Brazilian’s shoulder, that Diego’s reaction was one of arousal. It was basic engineering that resulted in a teenager’s heightened sexual appetite. Hell, most youngsters could get turned on by cutlery on account of all that testosterone flooding through their system. So as Diego listened to the sultry tenor of that voice while Azraeth spoke about deforming the corpse into their pet, and as he watched the man approach him with this distinctive predatory vibe, he felt powerless to do anything but warmly regard those serpent-like eyes fixed on him like prey and feel himself grow a little flushed. In those moments, it was true that Diego had officially fallen into the category of brooding teenager, but on the plus side, at least there was potential that he could eventually mature into a man.

It didn’t appear as if that transformation was happening any time soon, however. When Azraeth handed over his rifle, Diego accepted the burden as he would any kind of chore and groused about it. He grumbled a few words in his native tongue, nothing specifically lurid; only a few expletives that meant little more than to express how ungrateful and immature he was being. Still, he watched what the Vampire was up to guardedly, as if he was expecting Azraeth to make good on his threat. He was so convinced, in fact, that he started to think up a few names they could call it. Corpsey was the first that came to mind. When Az loomed over the corpse, katana in hand, and mentioned something about Necromancers being able to summon these kinds of creatures, Diego felt like he could use that in a name too – Necrosis, Boney, Corpsey-Bones, Dead Thing, Sunken Face… He was having a hard time trying to think of names as Az was talking at him, giving him the details on why these Zombies existed in the first place. One might think that it would have added fuel to the fire, given him inspiration for better names, but, Diego was far too simple-minded for that. He wasn’t capable of listening and thinking at the same time, and since it probably wasn’t wise to stop paying attention to whatever Az was doing in general, Diego ultimately gave up trying to name their future pet for the meantime.

It was from one discovery to another, only this time it was far more Discovery Channel in nature. Because as Az gave a summary of how Zombies occurred ‘in nature’, Diego felt like David Attenborough was there in spirit too, giving him the low-down on an incredibly rare species known as Homo Necrosis Zombifis. The Brazilian didn’t have the imagination to conjure up a picture of what happened to force Human souls to get sucked into this rift and then spat back out again as the walking dead. He did have enough sense to recognise that Az was aiming to kill the corpse as he pinned it to the floor with one foot and positioned the end of his katana at the base of its neck. Diego’s expression changed from mild intrigue and amusement to straight-up disappointment as that blade came down, severing the spinal cord. It went limp and still so quickly it was startling, but most of all, Diego thought it was a shame. Az might have described that body as a prison, but he quickly recognised the fact that the ‘caged’ soul was now going back to swim in the streams of death and rebirth until someone took it out of existence by draining its essence in the Shadow Realm. It was kind of cruel, which was why Diego was quick to make a complaint by the time Az returned to his side and retrieved his rifle.

“Aw, man. We could have named it Skully,” he said, and despite the grumbling nature of his voice, he quickly began to chuckle. “And maybe if we looked after that one, we could have had another and named it Moulder. Like mould. Because dead things get mouldy. And… like, X Files.”

Ok, so, that was terrible and not even remotely funny. He was sure he was laughing more out of nervousness and embarrassment than genuine amusement. Despite not being impressed by his own terrible joke, it hadn’t seemed to entirely put Az off. That, or the Vampire just wanted to leach as much of his Human warmth as possible and was happy to put up with a stink-bomb of a joke for the privilege. Diego didn’t mind either way seeing as how he had yet to graduate from brooding teenager. When that cooler arm wrapped around his own, he sidled closer, his eyelids growing heavy as he purred on the inside just because the other man was near him again. Diego forgot everything about where they were, what they were doing, and even the fact that he was carrying two bulky-*** weapons. At least until he realised he couldn’t stroke his lover’s arm with the rifle because that was not sexy. He straightened up quickly enough, but any thoughts he had about saying something else that was goofy, or, doing something profanely stupid, was relieved by the arrival of a very handsome suggestion. Diego looked both dumbfounded and incredibly excited.

“Seriously? After that awful joke and all?” he asked, gazing into his lover’s starburst eyes in slight disbelief. “I’m starting to question your sanity just a little bit.” Because there was nothing crazy about anything else that had happened tonight, or in the entire time they had known each other. Nope, nothing at all. He reached to brush a kiss against the other man’s cheek, right up beside an ear, and then whispered, “Alright, but… What are we doing about these?”

He gestured to the gun in his hands still, raising it autonomously and then dropping it back down to rest across his abdomen – it seemed like the default position for it now that he wasn’t expected to use it. He was so relaxed and at home there in that moment that he didn’t recall Az’s first rule: always be aware of your surroundings. In fact, the instant he knew he was in danger and had fucked up was when he felt an extra pair of hands grab his shoulder and under his arm from behind. Diego turned immediately, his back being pushed in Az’s direction to act like an unfortunate barrier. Lightning-quick reflexes or not, there was little that could be done to stop that rancid mouth from snapping forward, to stop it twisting in and closing around a section of Diego’s bicep. The Brazilian had thrown the arm up to fend off the attacking corpse, but had inadvertently positioned his flesh directly in its mouth. Green eyes finally showed an ounce of fear as he stared at that creature’s face. The skin of its scalp was the first thing he saw as the Zombie grappled against him; it was grey in colour, like the skin of a shark, but appeared to have been chewed away by a bigger one since the very back of its head was completely exposed. Next, Diego noticed its recessed cloudy eyes, and beneath that, its yellowed blunt teeth that were sinking repeatedly into the fabric of his shirt. What he couldn’t understand, however, was why he didn’t feel anything or why there wasn’t any blood.

Blink and you’ll miss it!

These words often accompanied moments of short surprise, brief bombshells, and fleeting thrills. Blink at a fireworks display and you’ll miss part of the show. Blink as you’re whizzing by on the train and you’ll miss the tiny towns – the tiny worlds – that linger out there. But it wasn’t that effervescent sense of excitement or anticipation boiling in one’s gut that kept the Brazilian’s eyes peeled. He watched the point of connection between his skin and the Zombie’s teeth like it was the only thing keeping back the pain and the blood, and from halting a deadly infection. Irrational as it might have been, he failed to come up with a better explanation. Every time the corpse bit down, Diego saw it shred the cotton of his clothes; great spools of it being caught between those sallow teeth like tufts of fur in the mouth of a predator. By the time a wolf skins a rabbit, he usually manages to get his teeth through that fleshy hide, into the meat of the animal, but somehow the Zombie couldn’t breach that barrier. It was as though the Brazilian’s skin was not that velvet-soft casing that it always appeared to be, as if some supernatural enchantment had embalmed him in a protective shell.

But that couldn’t be possible. Regular people just couldn’t summon up that kind of strength out of the air! Sure, the Brazilian had heard of people being able to lift cars in a feat of desperate strength, to save their life or the lives of someone they loved, but, this wasn’t the same kind of scenario. When we find ourselves under intense pressure, it’s scientifically understood that fear can unleash reserves of energy that normally remain inaccessible. Under acute stress, the body's sympathetic nervous system prepares the body for sustained, vigorous action. The adrenal gland dumps cortisol and adrenaline into the blood stream. Blood pressure surges and the heart races, delivering oxygen and energy to the muscles. It's the biological equivalent of opening the throttle of an engine. We become, in effect, superhuman, but there's a limit to how fast and how strong fear can make us. Fear cannot, in ordinary circumstances or even in circumstances involving Zombies, provide the body with a second-skin – a substance strong enough to deflect ivory. So what was that crunching sound he heard whenever those blunt fangs sheared against his skin? The only thing the Brazilian could attribute it to was the sound of pebbles rubbing together…

After that, all Diego could hear was the sound of rushing waves and a whistle of air before the screaming started. This inhuman sound creaked out of shadow, ruptured into being like a fork of lightning in a gloomy sky. Green eyes beheld the figures of three creatures in the darkness, but he couldn’t distinguish what they were, where they had come from, or what they were about to do. The Brazilian struggled in the Zombie’s grip, pulling himself back, but it was like playing tug-of-war with a Boxer and its favourite toy. Diego’s sneakers skidded on the tiled floor as he scrambled for mere centimetres of ground and while his focus was set dead-ahead on the immediate threats, he was gravely aware of how cold and bare his back felt. True enough, Diego was less concerned about what that corpse was doing to his arm than he was about those three looming figures in the dark. He couldn’t rightly discern one shadow being from the other what with the way they grappled in the darkness, or with the way several Xenomorphic hands burst forward and grabbed themselves a chunk of Zombie flesh.

Very suddenly, Diego felt like a pizza delivery guy at a Frat Party – too many hands reached for him and drunkenly grabbed a prize before retreating to oblivion. It came in waves and Diego watched with his heart in his throat – muttered expletives of shock around it – as the corpse was dismantled piece by piece. Off came bits of arms, thighs, legs, some ribs, until an eyeball got ripped out of its socket and half of the undead’s face went with it. Diego didn’t have the time to really question how it was still biting when it had been reduced to a skeleton because the last group of hands came in to rip that head away. Just as immediately, Diego felt warmer, softer hands on his shoulders before it tugged him toward the exit of the supermarket. He didn’t fight, even if he didn’t consciously acknowledge who those saving hands belonged to until they were outside in the slap of cold air. Suddenly those forceful hands were searching him for wounds, lifting clothing to bare the skin and turn it into gooseflesh. The Brazilian almost slapped those hands away, but in it all, Diego saw a face he recognised, even if those princely features were so obscured by worry that they didn’t really look like Azraeth. Diego blinked, but the gloom and confusion persisted. He blinked again as if his eyelids were windscreen wipes, able to wash away it all away, but it failed this time too.

The question, although not easily answered, did bring some clarity however. It was all part of the kick-start he needed, the knock of motion that started the engine running. He could think in words again, in thoughts instead of abstract imagery, yet he barely managed to stammer out a few words before he was being dragged away again. Instinct made him wrap a hand around his partner’s arm as they moved, securing an anchor so he couldn’t get dragged away once more. Az mentioned that they would be bunking someplace tonight – presumably someplace safe that allowed them to better check for injuries and figure all this **** out. The fact that the Vampire was just as stumped as the footballer about this whole thing was a clear sign that Azraeth hadn’t been purposefully involved. Going on the assumption that Az knew just exactly what he was doing in all the moments of his life, had convinced Diego that the Vampire hadn’t accidentally cast any magic here tonight, protecting him from harm. So what did that leave in terms of theories? Perhaps someone else had been involved, or, the Zombie was broken.

“Even if those were dentures, they’d still have cut the skin, right?” Diego mumbled, his words filing in between their hurried footsteps. He routinely looked to Azraeth, down his own body, and then back at the supermarket as he considered what to say. “I don’t get it… I’m not bleeding. Didn’t feel a thing either now that I think about it. Well, aside from, like, the pressure of grinding teeth.” But that wasn’t explaining it properly, so he tried to add an example, looking directly into the face of his lover as he did – his own expressions bemused and child-like. “It’s as if there was something in the way. Armour or something. Invisible armour…”

Suffice it to say, Diego wasn’t the most eloquent of gentlemen. Ask him to describe a sunset and he’ll tell you it’s not a sunrise. He shrugged his shoulder as they re-entered the building, sweeping a glance over the denizens. All NPCs were present and accounted for, seemingly unchanged by the passage of time or the arrival of Az and Diego again after such a short space of time. There was a flash of suspicion then, a feeling that all of this was some sort of elaborate hoax and that a camera crew was about to come rushing out from behind faux walls to televise his reaction at any moment. So when they reached the elevator, Diego made the point to look around and ensure he wasn’t going to get caught off guard again. He turned side-ways, one motion away from being able to pay very close attention to whatever was coming from the elevator, and one more motion away from reacting to whatever might be coming from the foyer of the apartment complex. Also, it allowed him the opportunity to face his partner.

“So… You didn’t have anything to do with all that back there?” he asked, rubbing at his own neck. “You don’t think you did anything magical?”