This was supposed to be a quick mission. Or at least easier than the ones they had over the week. Martin knew as he got older, the more advanced and challenging his missions got. How severe the missions became. How dangerous and bone chilling some of these monsters were. He didn't fully grasp that in senior year of high school that these missions affected people. The monsters that he went after were none other than what they can be described as; monsters. This week-the week teenagers went to homecoming, job hunting, hanging out with friends-was a hard week. He sacrificed. He watched a whole town of people obliterated because he couldn't find the one person who was responsible. They had to kill everyone. Find the skinwalker. They found the source in the very last thing left alive. It was a tough week.
This monster that rose the dead for a tea party descended upon the town every god forsaken month since August. It annoyed the residence and caused major destruction on religious buildings, scared people, and because all the dead were relatives to people in town, the townspeople were left emotionally and mentally drained. It left a bad aftertaste in Martin's mouth.
He chewed on the inside of his cheek. This thing was human. A necromancer, yes, but still human. Wafts of smoke and darkness hid their face from view. They rose their dark shadowy claw that hung over Martin. He scrambled out of the way as the claw came crashing down on a few tombstones. It crushed rocks and marble like it was made of glass. It lifted itself towards Martin for another swing. Martin ran towards a mausoleum. He dodged debris from falling on him. He tripped over a stone. His head hit the marble edge of a tombstone. Skeletal hands shot from the ground and held his legs and ankles. Martin shivered. His back suddenly cold. The world froze.
He looked behind himself, he saw the shadowy claw pushing down on his back. It pulled gently, and his body yanked with it. It then yanked back. He bit back a cry. Icy hot pain shot through his shoulder. It teared away at his jacket and flesh. Martin gasped and pushed himself up with all his might. He freed himself from the claw. The necromancer backed away from Martin. It held it's claw gingerly to itself.
Martin ran into the Mausoleum. He found exposed electrical sockets spitting out a menagerie of colored sparks. He brought out his net, draped it across the tiny opening of the building, coated it with water, and then put the open wires on the net which created an electrified barrier. He threw off his ruined jacket on the ground and ran to the end of the mausoleum.
He waited. His heart pounded in his chest. Cold sweat dripped down his neck. He pressed his hand harder onto his shoulder, and hoped that it would stop the bleeding. And maybe distract him the nauseated feeling that permeated his gut.
With a small shrill scream, the necromancer ran at him. Time distanced itself from Martin. He watched the necromancer run into the electrified net. It tangled itself and screamed. Martin didn't realize that it stopped struggling long ago- the shadows now dissipated, and left charred remains of the necromancer. Martin numbly stood up. He skirted around the body. He almost fell to his knees as he exited the mausoleum and into Diana's arms.
She also had quite a few injuries. A bloody gash along her cheek and a limp. She held onto Java for support as Martin crashed into them, barely conscious.
He heard "Where is it?" He felt his mouth move and voice muttered a garbled answer before he succumbed to unconsciousness.
It's Dead.