Valentine's Day
folder
Original - Misc › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
4
Views:
1,410
Reviews:
1
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Original - Misc › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
4
Views:
1,410
Reviews:
1
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
Unknown Future Chapter
*** Author's Note ***
This is a later chapter. I'm posting it to give you, the reader, something to think about ^_^
***
The bar was probably the seediest in the whole town. Not a single living thing went there after dark. At least no innocent living thing; it was packed with the undead and their lackeys.
To say it had seen better days was like saying deserts were a bit dry in places. A foul stench hung in the air, made worse by the thick tobacco smoke. Bright feral eyes watched my entrance from dark booths set against the far wall. I was utterly unafraid. To them I was another bloody snack to be eaten and thrown into an unmarked grave. Sometimes being dead had its advantages.
The mouldy stool creaked as I rested my weight on it, planting my elbow on the bar. The bartender waddles over, a misshapen mass of fat and gristle. Taking the cigar from between crooked yellow teeth, he blows smoke over me. Was I supposed to get annoyed? Blink repeatedly? One of another dozen responses that would have shown weakness or irritation?
Unimpressed, my right fist connects with his jaw and knocks out a few rotten teeth. The other 'patrons' in the bar at this point decide to make themselves known by attacking me.
A solid blow to the back of my skull impacts with a sickening crunch. Any man would be dead from it, any ordinary mortal man I assume. Calmly taking the bat from its owner I smash it across his kneecap before using it to crush his skull. The retribution of the bartender died a quick death after that little display of violence.
Why am I in the worst bar in town or more accurately, a bar in the worst part of town? My death was no accident, neither was the 'accidental' death of Izzy. I, no, we wanted answers. We? Unfortunately for whoever caused my death, they didn't realise that I could pass on my 'gift' to others when I found it's cause.
Seeing a softer target, one of the bar's patrons got a lucky hit on her jaw, snapping her face to one side. A loud crunch could be heard as she wrenched her head back around, a look of pure hatred in her eyes.
With a disturbingly sweet smile, she placed her hands on either side of the miscreants face, almost tenderly and slammed his head against her raised right knee. Nose broken as he staggered upright, she pivoted on her left foot and kicked him squarely in the face; the force sending him flying back.
Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. Though in this case, her fury was a truly wondrous thing to see.
As an accredited officer of the law, she was well within her rights to carry all manner of weapons. The seemingly innocent riot baton became a lethal weapon in her hands; bones broke easily under the strength of her assaults, even before she became something Else. Drawing it from under her jacket she looked for another unfortunate target amongst those still left standing; many of the bars remaining patrons had left in a hurry after seeing our little display.
Tapping it lightly against the palm of her right hand, she looks around the bar, selecting her prey carefully. I remained by the bar, sipping shots of vodka from the bottle and watching her. "Try to leave one... well, alive would be good, but talking would be more useful." I say. She turns to look at me, an almost wounded expression on her face. "Do I have to?" she half-whines. An act and we both know it, but it takes a will stronger than mine to resist her.
I heave a long put-upon sigh and shake my head. It was going to be a long night.
This is a later chapter. I'm posting it to give you, the reader, something to think about ^_^
***
The bar was probably the seediest in the whole town. Not a single living thing went there after dark. At least no innocent living thing; it was packed with the undead and their lackeys.
To say it had seen better days was like saying deserts were a bit dry in places. A foul stench hung in the air, made worse by the thick tobacco smoke. Bright feral eyes watched my entrance from dark booths set against the far wall. I was utterly unafraid. To them I was another bloody snack to be eaten and thrown into an unmarked grave. Sometimes being dead had its advantages.
The mouldy stool creaked as I rested my weight on it, planting my elbow on the bar. The bartender waddles over, a misshapen mass of fat and gristle. Taking the cigar from between crooked yellow teeth, he blows smoke over me. Was I supposed to get annoyed? Blink repeatedly? One of another dozen responses that would have shown weakness or irritation?
Unimpressed, my right fist connects with his jaw and knocks out a few rotten teeth. The other 'patrons' in the bar at this point decide to make themselves known by attacking me.
A solid blow to the back of my skull impacts with a sickening crunch. Any man would be dead from it, any ordinary mortal man I assume. Calmly taking the bat from its owner I smash it across his kneecap before using it to crush his skull. The retribution of the bartender died a quick death after that little display of violence.
Why am I in the worst bar in town or more accurately, a bar in the worst part of town? My death was no accident, neither was the 'accidental' death of Izzy. I, no, we wanted answers. We? Unfortunately for whoever caused my death, they didn't realise that I could pass on my 'gift' to others when I found it's cause.
Seeing a softer target, one of the bar's patrons got a lucky hit on her jaw, snapping her face to one side. A loud crunch could be heard as she wrenched her head back around, a look of pure hatred in her eyes.
With a disturbingly sweet smile, she placed her hands on either side of the miscreants face, almost tenderly and slammed his head against her raised right knee. Nose broken as he staggered upright, she pivoted on her left foot and kicked him squarely in the face; the force sending him flying back.
Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. Though in this case, her fury was a truly wondrous thing to see.
As an accredited officer of the law, she was well within her rights to carry all manner of weapons. The seemingly innocent riot baton became a lethal weapon in her hands; bones broke easily under the strength of her assaults, even before she became something Else. Drawing it from under her jacket she looked for another unfortunate target amongst those still left standing; many of the bars remaining patrons had left in a hurry after seeing our little display.
Tapping it lightly against the palm of her right hand, she looks around the bar, selecting her prey carefully. I remained by the bar, sipping shots of vodka from the bottle and watching her. "Try to leave one... well, alive would be good, but talking would be more useful." I say. She turns to look at me, an almost wounded expression on her face. "Do I have to?" she half-whines. An act and we both know it, but it takes a will stronger than mine to resist her.
I heave a long put-upon sigh and shake my head. It was going to be a long night.