MIST OF DOOM
A/N: This is a Gungrave: Overdose fanfic. Set post-OD.
All disclaimers apply. Cover is made with Photoshop by combining promotional pics of Gungrave GORE.
Chapter 1: One Misty Night
Gigantic tower mills loomed over the multistory buildings in South City, the southernmost region in the state of Billion. Unlike the windmills Billy had learned about at school during his mortal life, these mills created the wind instead of generating energy with it. They were much like giant fans, though nobody really knew about its power source.
"This is a good place to rest," Jyuji said. "I smell no human here... But it stinks like hell!"
Head poking out of his teal electric guitar, Billy stretched his neck to take a closer look at the dead-end alley found by his undead buddy; the rays cast by the full moon in the starry sky gave him enough illumination to see what lay there. Weathered wooden planks and rusty iron poles rested against the wall. Rats and insects dug into the heaps of rubbish that spilled out of the fallen trash cans.
Good thing Billy couldn't smell anything as a ghost. Jyuji, however, had a keen sense of smell, comparable to the creatures humans called "zombies." Billy and their other friends never called him that "z" word, though, for several reasons. Firstly, Jyuji walked like a healthy human and could neither eat something nor spread his condition. Then, Jyuji's skin was only paler than a normal human, not greenish with ulcers. Lastly, Jyuji communicated with words instead of groans.
Many called Jyuji's species "deadmen," though some preferred "undead men."
"We can find a better place, Jyuji," Billy said.
"I just need a break. Now." The frowning Jyuji sat on the ground and slammed the guitar down. The thud broke the silence in the alley.
Billy sighed. This grumpy undead man really needed to smile more, but whenever Billy attempted to amuse him, he'd only snap. It wasn't like Billy would stop trying to bring a smile outta this old grump, though. Entertaining either humans or undead made him feel alive; sometimes when he joked around, he might even forget that he was a ghost.
He sprang out of his instrument, picked it up and strummed it. Rats squeaked and jumped from one trash can to another, pepping up Billy's I Feel Good with discordant vocals and percussion.
If only this were a stage with colorful spotlights... Well, those with a refined taste in music would pelt him with rotten fruits and veggies, while those who only wanted some zest in their lives would clap and dance like mad at his performance.
"Quit it!" Jyuji suddenly yelled, looking up at him. Yes, looked. Or perhaps stared. Jyuji might have lost his eyes and covered the glowing, empty sockets of his skull with a blindfold, but to Billy, it always seemed like Jyuji could still give death glares whenever he felt like it.
"Aw, man." Billy's face crumpled as his guitar slipped out of his hands. "I thought it would cheer you up." He retreated into the instrument like a genie into his magic lamp.
"Cheerful ghosts annoy me." The rats continued with their inharmonious orchestra, and Jyuji screamed, "Shut up before I roast ya, noisy pests!"
"Um, they don't understand our language," Billy commented, "do they?"
"Neither do you!" Jyuji hissed through his gritted teeth, his right shoulder glowing with orange light. Then fire burst out of it - why it never burned Jyuji's coat to ashes, nobody knew. "Argh! That damned Seed is coming again! All thanks to you and those freakin' pests!"
Seed, Billy reiterated in his mind. Humans gave the drug such a funny name because of how it worked. Once a body - dead or alive - earned a dose of Seed, one would have to wait until the substance turned into a fully-grown alien. Then it would bear its "fruits:" bringing a corpse back to life, granting the individuals some cool powers that existed only in superhero movies, or both.
Unfortunately, the aliens often wanted to take control of one's body for unknown reasons. Whenever they made the attempt, the infected would act like some cranky old men; the grumpy ones like Jyuji would get even grumpier. They'd only stop after kicking the aliens' asses, or earlier if they knew how to meditate.
Like Jyuji.
Billy had seen what would happen if the aliens won the fight, and he shuddered. No. Jyuji would never lose. Never.
Staying inside the guitar, Billy observed Jyuji's breathing pattern. In. Out. In. Out. Rhythmic like a ticking metronome, exactly fifteen beats per minute. The flame on his shoulder dimmed before shrinking to nothingness.
"What a relief. It'll leave me alone for a few hours." Jyuji stood up, his face an impassive mask. "Let's start walking again."
"But I thought you said-"
"I said, 'Let's start walking again.' We gotta find a better place to spend the night."
Billy sighed, slowly emerging from his hideout. Just as scatterbrained as ever. Amazing how he could still meditate properly. Hovering above the musical instrument, he pointed at his feet with a grin. "I don't walk."
"Not funny." The scowling Jyuji walked past him and out of the alley. "Now, be my eyes."
"Of course." Billy returned to his guitar and followed Jyuji. His head remained on the surface so that he could see better. "I've been doing it since we met, haven't I?"
"If you hadn't, I'd have dumped this guitar as soon as I learned that it was haunted by an annoyingly chatty ghost."
"Aw, but you once said that you kept it because-" Billy winced. No, no, no. If his guitar really smelled like Jyuji, it meant he had that Seed thing living in him. Meanwhile, he had never engaged an alien in a battle for dominance.
Or perhaps Jyuji said so because they were both undead? Billy really hoped that Jyuji actually meant this, but why did Jyuji claim that the windmills smelled like him then? Windmills weren't undead!
"Because of what?" Jyuji asked.
"Never mind."
Once Billy caught up with Jyuji, he let the undead man carry the guitar over his shoulder.
The street was empty. Billy could hear the faint howl of the wind as it sent Jyuji's ragged greatcoat fluttering wildly like Superman's cape. It was like they were alone in a jungle, with dilapidated buildings of various height and street signs as the trees. No lights, no speeding vehicles, no human voices. Nothing.
Only ethereal whiteness roamed. The further they went, the thicker the haze grew. Jyuji's coat stopped billowing as well.
Dread slithered into Billy like a knot of snakes when he realized where they were heading to. Eyes darting left and right at the hazy whiteness, he murmured, "I don't like this, Jyuji."
"What? We've met and fought a lot of horrible stuff, you know?"
"I've heard a lot of bad things about the mist and Central Billion. They sound worse than what we've faced."
"Pfft. You must've heard one too many rumors from humans. Those spineless wimps." Jyuji stared at him. "Don't lower yourself to their level!"
Billy nodded hesitantly; if ghosts could gulp, he'd have done it. Some said that the mist drove people nuts, and hence the construction of the massive windmills. Then there was the extremely famous: "Whoever goes to Central Billion never returns."
Madmen could never return, could they?
"Um, Jyuji, sometimes being a spineless wimp is actually better."
Jyuji pressed on. A few steps later, he slowed down. "It kinda stinks here."
"Are we going back?"
Jyuji didn't reply, but Billy could see his struggle to advance into the sea of white. So sluggish. So hesitant. So troubled.
"It stinks... It stinks... It stinks..." The words escaped from Jyuji's lips over and over again like a broken cassette player. His grip on the guitar loosened as his feet remained frozen in place.
Billy fled from the plummeting instrument and caught it. "Jyuji, let's get the hell outta here!" His free hand passed through Jyuji's when he tried to seize it. Damn, I have a habit of forgetting what I am whenever I'm panicking.
Jyuji walked into the thick mist, slowly and stiffly like a wind-up nutcracker doll. "It stinks..." His right shoulder glowed again. Then fire - a blue one - raged on it.
Noticing Jyuji's erratic breathing, Billy shouted, "Snap out of it!" His words fell on deaf ears, and Billy retreated into his guitar. He had to push Jyuji away from this creepy place, even if it would involve tackling his friend with the guitar - a not so pleasant experience for both of them.
He rocketed into the sky, swerved, and glided towards Jyuji at lightning speed.
"It smells delicious!" Jyuji roared, loud and hard enough to create a shockwave that blew the incoming guitar away and smashed the nearby buildings.
"No!" Regaining his composure, Billy made his way to Jyuji again.
Too late. Now engulfed in blue flame, Jyuji leaped into the air. His face lengthened into that of a dragon's, and multiple fiery spikes grew out of his skull. A pair of blazing wings ripped out of his back as he glided away from the levitating Billy.
Had Jyuji finally lost the battle within him? Or was it the mist?
"This can't be! Jyuji!" Billy howled, dropping down along with his guitar. His chest burned so much that he wanted to cry, but ghosts couldn't shed tears. Ever.