Welcome To Our World
Short one-shot. Outsider POV. A police officer confronts a pair of men with machetes, covered in blood and surrounded by bodies. And that's already creepy enough without adding the word vampire into the mix. I hope any who read will enjoy. This was previously posted in a multi-chapter fic but I kinda liked it and thought I'd post it as its own story. WARNING: Strong language ahead.
Disclaimer: I OWN NOTHING!
"Put your weapons on the ground nice and slow or I will shoot you where you stand. Do it. Now."
He takes a closer look; eyes the pair up and can't help but fixate on the blood. It's everywhere. They are covered in it. It's on their faces and hands; smeared into their hair and on their clothing; it's even on their boots. It looks like he stumbled straight into a horror movie, complete with the unsettling colour of crimson splattered like a complicated tapestry laid out on the ground haphazardly, splashes of red working its way onto the walls that line the alleyway. These two are a couple of grade A nut jobs and he curses to himself at the fact that he let Davis talk him into working his shift. Never, ever again.
He grabs his radio and tries to keep the quiver out of his voice.
"I need back up and an ambulance at the corner of uh, Singer and Campbell. Two suspects with..um..god damn machetes just finished hacking up like five people so send everyone you got!"
"Back up is on the way. Don't approach, suspects are armed and dangerous and..."
"No shit! I do have eyes and they are looking right at the bastards, so send whatever you can! I don't care if it's a damn helicopter or a fire truck or a tank because I have approached and I need fucking back up! NOW!"
The shorter of the pair isn't even looking at him; he's focused on the bodies strewn about in the alley way. Jesus, it's like he's mesmerized by the art he created with his knife. The murdering son of a bitch is staring with eyes so cold, distant and almost lifeless that he can't help the shiver that crawls along his spine and nestles itself nice and comfortable into his chest. These two must be the crazies that escaped on their way to the god damn loony bin a few miles down the road; after they created the same bloodbath over in the next town. Shit. Figures they would make their appearance on his fucking shift.
"Listen officer. I know this looks bad but I'm telling you, we're the good guys and you need to let us finish this before they get up, and trust me, you don't want them to do that. You need to walk away before it's too late."
His finger squeezes slightly on the trigger and he gives them what he hopes is a real nasty look to offset the bile he feels churning in his gut. "Before they get up?! What the hell do you take me for, a damn idiot? None of these poor people are going to get up and continue on with their lives, you made sure of that. I'd say by the looks of your handiwork I don't need much of a reason to pump you assholes full of lead. So... put the weapons down."
He hears a slight rustle behind him and slowly backs up to take a look while keeping his eyes trained on the pair in front of them. Oh God. One of them is still alive. He isn't sure how that's possible since the woman, well he figures it's a woman by the long, blood-matted hair stuck to her head; looks like all the fluids once stored in her body are surrounding her in a river of red.
"God, you two are a couple of sick fucks..."
He hears her voice call out to him and plead for help. He turns to face her then; to try and ease her suffering while she waits to die.
"Help is on the way miss. Just don't move, you're safe now, they can't hurt you anymore."
And that one moment; that one second where he casts his eyes to the poor woman is all it takes for him to make the biggest rookie mistake ever. Number one in the welcome to the police force handbook. Never, ever take your gaze off the threat.
The unmistakable sound of rapid footsteps registers in his ears and he assumes he is about two seconds away from losing an appendage or two courtesy of one of those damn blades. He has never been a shoot first, ask questions later type of guy but the hell if he is going to add his own severed limbs and blood type to the macabre selection already painting the pavement. He turns and fires out of panic and desperation and the overwhelming need of self-preservation; the need to remain in one piece.
The gunshot echoes in the alley and he is satisfied by the grunt of pain; the litany of expletives and the clang of the machete as it skitters along the pavement that at least one of those assholes is out for the duration. Before he can focus in on the second man, the man who is screaming the name 'Dean' and hollering 'Look out!'; before he can squeeze off another round, he is grabbed and yanked back with such force that the wind is knocked out of him and his ears start to buzz. What the hell?
His gun is stripped out of his hand like it's a damn toy and he feels pressure on his chest. His vision clears and he gazes in horror at the woman; the same woman who moments ago was pleading for her life, as her mouth, her fucked up mouth starts to descend towards his damn neck. He struggles with all his might to get the bitch off of him, the whole time his mind is racing, unable to believe what his eyes are telling him. What the hell is this shit? She's... she's got razor sharp teeth and a smile that would put the word sinister to shame.
"Get the fuck off of me!"
"Thanks for saving me mister policeman. If you wouldn't have come along when you did, tweedle dum and tweedle dee over there would have finished me off. Don't worry, I'll be quick, you'll be dead before it even registers how much it hurts."
His eyes goes wide as he anticipates those damn teeth sinking into his jugular like some kind of fucking...
...vampire...
This can't be happening. This isn't real, vampires don't actually exist. He's gone nuts, that's it, he's not even here, he's probably drugged up in some mental ward somewhere.
"Too bad you forgot about me, you heartless, undead bitch."
As she turns to face the taller of the men, he wastes no time in swinging the blade and chopping her head clean off.
"You okay?" The genuine concern on the young man's face seems so out of place among the blood and gore that litters every stupid corner of the alley. All he can manage to do is nod his head and begin to slowly extricate himself from the headless body laid out on top of him.
Without another word, the man who just saved his life from a... a vampire... darts towards the other bodies and methodically decapitates each one where the head is still attached. He makes quick work of it and it looks to him like he did it without even breaking a sweat. He watches as the man then makes his way back to Dean, who currently has a hand pressed into the bullet wound in his shoulder.
He can hear the sirens bellow in the distance and he gazes towards the street before turning back to focus on the two men once again.
"Get 'em man?"
"Yeah, their blood sucking days are over. Relax bro, I got you. We need to get out of here. Can you walk?"
So, not homicidal maniacs then, but vampire killing brothers. Sure, that's much easier to accept.
"Yeah Sam, m'good, just a flesh wound. I've had worse."
"Don't tell me, you're fine right? Smart ass."
They don't give him another glance as Dean is helped to a somewhat standing position and they begin to meander their way towards the street beyond.
"Wait.. please, I... what..."
Dean stops suddenly and although he doesn't turn around, the injured man's voice comes through loud and clear.
"Yes, vampires are real. So are werewolves and demons and ghosts. So congratulations, you can now spend the rest of your damn life knowing that the horrors of your childhood actually exist. I'm sorry man, but you are gonna be screwed up forever, just like us."
All he can do is watch the duo as they slowly limp their way down the darkened corridor and slip out of sight. He wonders just who the hell these two brothers are; wonders if he will ever have to see this kind of shit again; wonders how the fuck he is going to continue on now that he has seen the truth.
He rubs a shaking hand down his face and presses the heels of his hands into his eyes. When he opens them again he sighs in frustration. He is still there. The alley is still covered in blood and gore and limbs and headless bodies, and he wishes more than anything that he really was locked away somewhere with a straight jacket. Shit. Dean was right.
As of this moment he is officially fucked up.
Thanks for stopping by. Reviews would be awesome if you feel so inclined. :)