Chapter Twelve:
Ain't No Grave
Disclaimer: Hahaha—no. I do not, nor will I ever, own any media showcased in this piece of fanfiction. They all belong to their respective creators and owners. The only thing I (barely) own is this piece are the written works and the original characters within it.
Warnings: There will be cursing, violence, mild nudity, blood, gore, and a few other minor things under the rainbow with this fic.
Notes: Apologies for the delay.
Just found out I was pregnant a few weeks ago and it's been absolutely fucking with my mood, motivation, appetite, and other things that threw me completely off-kilter. I already had a child, but that pregnancy was a cakewalk compared to this so far. Ugh.
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There ain't no grave can hold my body down
There ain't no grave can hold my body down
When I hear that trumpet sound
I'm gonna rise right out of the ground
Ain't no grave can hold my body down
Well, look way down the river
And what do you think I see
I see a band of angels
And they're coming after me
Ain't no grave can hold my body down
There ain't no grave can hold my body down
-"Ain't No Grave" by Johnny Cash
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"Well, this is about to get interesting real quick," Lupin muttered under her breath, exchanging a look with Whiplash. The Night Fury crooned so quietly, only she could hear it. Her ears flicked in response.
"You got that right. I'm still trying to process this all."
Lupin looked up at the source of the voice, spotting Elisa. The other woman gave a short wave. She didn't look at all upset or disturbed at all that was going on so far. It was as though she was more curious to see how it all panned out. Elisa met Lupin's mismatched gaze and offered a faint smile.
"I'm going to take a wild guess and say that you deal with weird all the time."
Elisa nodded, and pointed a finger gun at her in a mock salute. "You got that one right on the head."
"Hooray. Do I get a cookie?"
"Sorry. Fresh out."
"Then you're useless to me, cookie-less woman."
Elisa laughed quietly. "You don't seem too bothered yourself. You've been here for some time, but how long has it been?"
Lupin leaned on Whiplash and the dragon leaned in right back. She rubbed at the crown of his head when he bumped her elbow, vying for attention.
"Eh…I've been…like this," she said, motioning to her ears and the like, "for a while now. I'm going to refrain from saying how long on that front. For this place, though, it's been…a couple of months."
"So, who exactly is responsible for all of this? I have a few theories in mind, but—"
"Look, take what you think you know and who you think it is that's doing this and just shove it out the window. I'm serious. It's not anyone you know."
The other woman looked taken aback, and her face morphed into cautious curiousity mixed with mild peeved surprise.
"But you do know who is behind all this," Elisa pressed. Lupin glanced at the taller woman, recognizing the glint in Elisa's eyes, like a bloodhound who had just dug up an especially juicy scent trail.
She's a detective, of course she's going to be nosy, asking questions. Lupin paused, her ears flicking at the subtlest sound of a familiar rattling, and Whiplash perked at the same time, his playfulness leaking away from his frame in lieu of attentiveness. She caught sight of Valka, and the Viking woman was watching her, waiting for her to turn her attentions toward her. Lupin cleared her throat and excused herself abruptly from Elisa's company. She and Whiplash weaved through the clusters of people, each of them clustered around in their own familiar groups. All except for Elisa.
It was nearly dark. They were still waiting for the gargoyle clan, who would no doubt be there as soon as it was dark and they awoke. Elisa made sure of that, by requesting to return to the castle earlier that day when things had all settled and leaving a note for them to find and read.
Lupin joined Valka. The older woman touched the werewolf's elbow and gently guided her along, well out of earshot of the others. Cloudjumper wasn't far from the rest of the group, but to alieve the newcomers' uneasiness with the large dragon, Valka had the Stormcutter keep his distance. She still kept him close at hand, however, just in case. Lupin couldn't fault her for the reasoning.
A big dragon like that could easily help keep the peace in case things got a little hairy.
The others weren't as leery of Whiplash, but if they knew about half as much as Lupin did about Night Furies, they probably wouldn't feel so at ease with Whiplash hanging around either.
"How much longer 'til the sun sets?"
"'Bout another half hour or so."
"Are those stone statues truly to come to life as…creatures?"
"Gargoyles," Lupin affirmed. She thought for a moment, frowning. "I grew up with…let's call them stories. Getting into what they really are will take time. Anyway, there were all these different stories, different people and characters and creatures, some of them mythical and others not, and it seemed cheesy at the time, growing up and stuff. Now, not so much."
There was also Hellboy, but she refrained from alliterating a parallel to him, Liz, or Abe. Things were crazy enough as it was.
"So…you believe these stories are coming to life, is that it?"
"I don't know. I don't think so."
I wish I could believe that, but now, not so much. Does the fucking "multiverse theory" include fictionalized worlds into its realm or am I just going crazy?
She didn't want to linger on the idea.
Fictional or not, it looked like Elisa and the gargoyles, Hellboy and his company alike were here, and they were well and alive and real.
Fictional or not, it looked like they were in need of help.
As reluctant as Lupin was, and as much as she wanted to sit there, rocking back and forth in the fetal position muttering denials, she couldn't allow herself to fall into that pit trap. She couldn't turn a blind eye to them, or any of the others in the room with her and Valka. She knew she wouldn't be able to live with herself if she walked away from them. And as much as she hated to admit it, the twins had found a way to pluck at her goddamned heartstrings. She couldn't turn away from people who needed genuinely needed help. Fucking bleeding heart. It was going to come bite her in the ass one day, she just knew it.
Suck it up, Marine, she told herself. Suck it up and get the mission done.
Lupin parted ways with Valka and started making her rounds with the others, checking up on them. It surprised her how easily she had slipped back into the role of a senior sergeant, checking on her junior Marines.
Sam and Dean Winchester were both tight-lipped with her, aside from snarky remarks and leers and narrow-eyed looks towards her wolfish features. She felt no lost love with that interaction, figuring that coupled with the smell of blood on them and the deeply seated mistrust glittering in their eyes, they were already not fans of her.
Well, they can go blow themselves, for all I care. So long as they don't do anything fucking stupid, like try to hurt anyone else.
She moved on, receiving much the same from Kennex and Dorian, although it felt less of a tense reaction from the both of them. It was a few degrees more pleasant chatting them up than the Winchesters. Kennex had a little colour back in his complexion, no doubt thanks to the earlier quick-fix attention she had given his injuries. He'd probably need better aid, but for now, things would hold out. Dorian had been a big help, making note of injuries she couldn't see on the surface. Kennex seemed less than thrilled at "being scanned again", but made no further complaints once everything was bandaged up.
When she began making her way toward the trio that consisted of Hellboy, Abe, and Liz, she had to stop at the scene she found herself stumbling upon. It was a bit…well, the only way she could honestly describe it was "cutesy". Hellboy hovering over Liz, asking her soft questions such as if she was really all right, if anything attacked her or Abe, how she was feeling. She didn't miss the hand on the belly, either. Abe kept a respectable enough distance; enough to be included, but just far enough away to allow them their own bubble of privacy. When Abe turned his head to glance Lupin's way, he offered an awkward smile and very light shrug of his thin shoulders, as though to say "What can you do? It's love."
Lupin returned the smile with a tight one of her own and closed the distance between herself and the other three. When the couple noticed her, there was once more a less tense atmosphere surrounding them—vastly different from the Winchesters, and yet again, a different mixture altogether from Kennex and Dorian.
"How're things holding up?"
"You asking because you actually care or because it's your job to ask?"
"Little Column A, little bit Column B. Take your pick." Lupin replied breezily to the red-skinned demon. She shrugged when he didn't respond. She took a steadying breath, letting a moment pass. I really don't feel like fighting, I just want to get this done and over with.
"We don't feel like fighting, either. We would rather prefer to get the answers the easy way," Abe interrupted, and Lupin snapped her head in his direction, startled and frozen.
The fuck did he…? Oh. Oh shit. Fucking telekinesis, are you kidding me!
Apparently, she had forgotten a few things, like Abe's ability to pick up on thoughts. Wonderful.
She ground her teeth. She hated it when people thought they could read her—emotionally, physically, whatever it was they said they picked up on. Most times, people were wrong about what they thought they knew about her. She made it a point to normally derail what people thought of her. Now, she was feeling predictable because of her temper. But to have someone who could actually dig around in her thoughts?
She was beyond the stage of "I don't like it".
Abe seemed to sense this—whether he picked up on her emotional, defensive vibe or otherwise—and quickly rephrased, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to glean anything from you, you're simply easy to read. Not unlike a lot of people, in fact."
"Yeah, you eventually get used to Blue just doing his thing. Not much to worry about, unless you were secretly planning on killing somebody. Might ruin the surprise," Hellboy added in. Liz huffed slightly, almost a laugh but not quiet. There was mirth in her eyes, even if there wasn't a smile on her lips. Lupin frowned, ears slowly flaring back against her head as she tried to assess what her next move should be.
Just…move on. Not much else to do but keep moving forward with this. No backing out now, she finally decided.
"Right, well…try to keep your brain scanning to minimum. I don't like people reading me like that."
Or any other kind of reading, for that matter.
Clearing her throat, she motioned to them as a collective once more and reiterated her question on how they were doing. Liz offered a shrug, then a wince and a hand reached for her belly.
"Just…hanging in there, I guess you could say," she answered. Lupin's frown remained intact as she looked Liz up and down.
"How far along are you?"
"About…what was it again, nineteen weeks?" Liz glanced at Hellboy, who more or less nodded.
"Something like that. Sounds about right."
"Might have to dumb it down Barney Style for me, that's…how many months?"
"'Barney Style'?" Hellboy parroted back quietly, a glint of interest arising in his eyes. Abe waggled a hand.
"Roughly five months."
"Shit." Lupin muttered. Gonna have to get those asshole twins to hurry the fuck up with those fucking pushes for that Silent Sparrow whatever project. And in the meantime, add on "pregnancy shit" to my growing list of shit to ask for. Jesus titty-fucking Christ.
"You army?"
The question threw her off and she blinked, looking back up at Hellboy. Her ears flared back against her head again, feeling mildly offended, before she reined in her snappish response—just in time.
"Marine, actually. Active duty for a little over five years."
"Semper Fidelis." Hellboy nodded, a faint look of approval on his face. Lupin was surprised further by that. She nodded in return, wary of the exchange.
"Ooh-fucking-rah," she replied, which in turn, elicited a broad grin to split the demon's face.
"You sure sound like one, all right."
"Damn well better. I been hanging out with the assholes for too long."
Hellboy looked ready to make another comment, and even Liz appeared mildly interested, but before anyone else could respond the doors to the Meade Hall broke open. Night had eclipsed the world beyond, a great yawning expanse of empty night sky glittering with cold white stars in the distance. Standing upon the threshold were several figures, most tall or broad in stature, but all of them winged.
The Manhattan Clan of gargoyles had arrived.
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It was cold and dark, and the air smelled like damp rock and clay.
It didn't smell like home and it didn't feel like his bed. His actual bed, where he could go to every night, in a place that didn't share in the constant changes with strangers every other day or week. It was a new comfort he was beginning to allow himself to enjoy.
There was a constant, dull roar in his ears ringing away like white noise. It was both soothing and an annoyance. It was perhaps the first thing he noticed at first, before the smells and before the coldness. It was a constant in the background, a sighing rush of something loud and continuous.
Like running water.
Was he in a cave, he wondered? It was dark. Maybe it was night time. As he listened, he could hear faint acoustics of other noises as well. Dripping water into larger pools below. The rumblings of something else, something unidentifiable at first, like a slow and deliberate whooshing of air. It wasn't the wind, exactly.
Breathing.
Something large and alive was close by.
A part of him was curious. Another part was largely cautious. If it was something large, it could be dangerous. But if it was also something alive, then that meant it possibly was near the exit of this place. He was more than certain that it was a cave now, after touching the bare hard rock beneath his fingers, the cold dampness on his palms, the stagnant air around him.
His worry came to bite him in that moment. He was alone.
He became anxious to know where his brother was and where his fiancé was. Were they here in the same cave as him, in some corner where he couldn't see them? It was pitch black inside, but he began to slowly scuffle along, carefully feeling out the place, inch by inch. Another pit of worry began to grow in the center of his chest and take root, thorns and all. Who in the hell broke in his home, and stole him away to drop him—and possibly the only two people he gave more than half a damn about—off in this place? What if they were still close by, somehow watching him fumble about in the darkness?
Wild theories flew, but they were shot down just as quickly as they formed.
All he had were theories.
He couldn't prove anything and until he got out of this place, he couldn't prove or disprove anything. He couldn't find out any answers until he was in the clear.
But when he was, he was going to unleash all hell on whoever it was that's done this.
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"You expect us to believe that we're all in some parallel universe to our own and one another's to boot, and in addition to all that, you're not a human or android, but some crypto-monster thing? Give me a damn break already."
Well, I was honest. Nobody can't say I didn't try.
She eyed the skeptical looks on John Kennex's face, the reserved judgement on Dorian's, and refrained from heaving a sigh. It seemed he has had a sudden reversal in his train of thought towards her, no longer bound by the "go with the flow" attitude now that things have settled.
The others, however, remained less surprised. Lupin had just finished explaining the situation in which they were all now a part of: Chimera Dynamics, the parallel universes and the multiverse theory proven true, her role on the island, and the truth of her nature. It was too late to hide what she was, and leaving it up in the air as a parlor trick was most definitely not going to cut it with most of the audience before her. She did reassure them all that she didn't fall into the "eating humans, mindless beast" category of things. It did little to reassure them.
The Winchesters had briefly introduced themselves, stating rather bluntly that they were monster hunters. Monsters of all kinds, ranging from violent spirits, demons from hell, and worse. If anyone named it, chances were they've run across it at some point in their lives. It certainly explained their distrust of her right from the get-go, although she still sense a strain between herself and them.
This was only reinforced by Hellboy, Liz, and Abe alike—as their profession for upholding the world from falling into chaos from the paranormal, their lines of works intersected a great deal. Or they used to, until they had all up and quit. There seemed to be a strained sort of mutual respect from the Winchesters towards the former B.P.R.D. agents and vice versa as well.
With the gargoyles and Elisa, it was similar in the respects that they protect their home, each other, and any whom they accept into their tight knit group as well as strangers in distress in New York City. This meant often fighting alongside and against, what Elisa had explained, people who were both allies and antagonistic individuals. They sounded like people who Lupin would have labeled as "frienemies", if she was being honest.
When Valka offered her bit of history, as well as the obvious state of the island in which they were all now a part of—whether they liked it or not—Kennex and Doran seemed less skeptical.
"So what do we do now? What's next?" This question came from one of the gargoyles who had introduced himself as Brooklyn. Beak-nosed, rust-red skin, with his wings tucked under his arms and around his front, Lupin knew he'd be much taller and broader than her if he stood up from his crouch. Yet, he was nowhere near their leader's height, the great behemoth named Goliath, or even Hellboy's height either.
"Honestly, I'm new at this shit, so I can't say definitively. Right now, I could set some of y'all up at my place, the rest could hang out here in the village or up at the castle—if y'all are willing. From what I understand and from what Elisa has told me, that castle is yours, so that means the decision's yours on who stays or goes, too."
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This place was strange.
It was damp and dark. Surrounded by earth. Deep underground. Safe.
It was the perfect place for a nest.
She couldn't have chosen a better site herself.
But there was the taste of ashes from old fires and new alike in the air, a tinge of blackened timber and scorched rock, of dry and scaly bodies covered in dust and salt and briny waters. That smell was especially strong. It brought back memories of crossing the poison water, trapped in a cage that would not yield to her terrible and powerful weapons: her claws. Stared down at by her favourite prey-animal, mocked from afar with their flat leering ugly faces, and given disgusting meat that she wouldn't peddle to even the lowest of males in her brood.
She showed them all one night, she and her smaller mate and cub, when she gutted one of her feeders. The three of them ate well on his warm corpse. It had been worth the revenge—and later on, when she had lost her eye, it had been well worth the wait that colluded to her eventual escape.
The poison waters nearly drowned them all, but land was not far off. She had raised a considerable brood over the years, content with their new home deep under the earth. They were fed by their prey-animal with more prey-animal. It was not a terrible trade-off…until the food ran out.
Memory ran fuzzy along there. She was an old creature, but with many more years still to go. She was still strong. She was still a matriarch of her nest. None have dared oppose her and none ever will.
This place was not home. It did not have the aroma of death and decay that she and her kind so cherished. It was not gut-stained and blood soaked. There were no bones of the deceased littering the floors. It was not home…but it could become one, in time.
If only it was not so close to the stink of the poison water.
Perhaps that could be overwhelmed with blood and gore and broken bones and leaking marrow over time.
The great beast sniffed. Her sense of smell was greater than her vision now. She was half-blind. Her preferred prey-animal were clever little things, for something so easily torn apart. They had clever, small paws that were especially quick at devising weapons that could hurt her and her kind. Sharp weapons that were almost as deadly as her barbed claws tipping her hands. Nasty things that smelled of fire and roared like thunder when used against her kind.
She could smell others of her kind. A few juveniles. A few cubs. Only a few adults. They were familiar scent marks. They were of her brood. That was good. They were close, perhaps in another network over. It would not be hard to find her way over. Even half-blind, her vision in the pitch black was much better than a prey-animal with both eyes intact. They were blind and foolish creatures. Easy pickings.
She wondered if the prey-animal had somehow taken them away from yet another home, to stick them in another hole in the ground, a place to feed them anew.
That was not as good.
At least, she surmised, it was night. That was also good. The sun was torment on her flesh. It scorched at the paleness, which would make her look sickly. It was why her kind preferred to hunt at night. Their prey-animal were blind and weak and scared of the darkness. It reminded them of horrors such as herself. Additionally, the gleam of her paleness was preferred in her kind. It meant strong, healthy members that were ready for breeding. She still had many years left in her. She was still strong.
She inhaled deeply once more, reading through the scent marks hanging in the air—and she stopped, clacking her jaws together. Her great fangs, perfect for tearing and ripping flesh from bone and snapping bone apart for good measure, ground against one another as she mulled over this curiousity.
Her curiousity grew into comprehension as she delved past the poison water's aroma, the stagnation of the dark caves, the coldness of the air.
Her comprehension evolved into glee and hunger.
Prey-animal was close. Very close.
It was time to gather the clan. It was time to hunt.
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Lupin could already feel a headache building up behind her temples, a procession of sharp staccato cracks one right after the other like gunshots.
One minute, things were all hunky-dory, plans were being drawn up on who goes where for the night, the next it turned into chaos.
You were fine five fucking minutes ago, what the fuck changed, you assholes?
She shot a parting look towards Valka, caught her eye briefly, but then the older woman was drawn back into her fray with one of the gargoyles. Apparently, she didn't like being called…whatever it was they called her. Frankly, Lupin had only been half-paying attention, her mind already a thousand miles away in preparations for what was needed for the night and perhaps for a short-term length of stay for these people. Which, glancing over at Liz, would include maternity care.
She was only sucked back into things when Whiplash smacked her upside the head with his tail, diverting her attention from scolding him to what was going on in front of her.
Wow, way to space out, killer, everyone's dead now because of you. It was something she could already hear her Gunny saying, sarcastic and disappointed in her for not being vigilant. She winced, realizing if she didn't try to step in and help, things could go downhill real fast. Elisa was already trying to play the peacekeeper, as was Dorian and even Abe.
She didn't fancy seeing things get taken out of hand and anyone get their heads bashed in. Normally she would have been the one to do the head bashing. It was one of her "unofficial" jobs at keeping her Marines in line back in the unit—partly because Gunny Perkins said so, partly because her rank allowed her to.
Now I've gotta put on my diplomatic trousers and not my bashing gloves, great.
James would have been better at this than her. He was always better at the tactful side of things.
She started forward, intent on planting herself between the most volatile of tempers—if someone was going to throw the first punch, it had better be a good one and it would be better if she took the blow instead of someone else. She stopped suddenly, a chill swept down her spine like ice water had been dumped all over her backside.
Abe's voice, woven in the tapestry of everyone else's that were raised and trying to be heard, fell quiet. The nighttime crooning orchestra of the nocturnal dragons had suddenly hushed. Lupin's ears twitched, disturbed by the suddenness of it all, and she felt her heart's pace picking up. She glanced at Whiplash and then at Cloudjumper, noticing their motionlessness and their silence.
Even Valka had taken note, pressing in closer to her dragon companion and sweeping her eyes questioningly upwards toward Cloudjumper's face. The Stormcutter made no move nor any indication as to what, exactly, was wrong. There was only silence from the two dragons in Meade Hall.
Silence was never a good thing.
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There was nothing but darkness all around him. It was cold and dank, and there was a faint breeze, and the smell of salt-water hanging in the air. He's never smelled salt-water before. He's heard of the sea, of course, but living in a landlocked country limited the scope of the world.
He inhaled deeply, trying to draw a sense of clarity from smell alone, if he could not see. He strained to listen and heard the sounds of water rushing, and dripping, and running. To his back, he could feel uneven stone ground digging into him, hard and uncomfortable. A cave, perhaps. Occam's Razor often dictated that the simplest explanation was usually the right choice.
He slowly sat up, careful not to rush himself. He wasn't sure if he was concussed. Relearning how to live like a normal human sometimes meant relearning the maladies a body could suffer. He wriggled his toes and fingers, satisfied that he could feel them all, then checked his arms and legs. He felt no pain and no obvious injuries in his blind probing.
Satisfied once more, he slowly brought himself up to his feet, wobbled on his legs, steadied himself. He focused his senses on his smell and hearing and the feel of cold air gently brushing against his bare arms.
There might be the exit, he reasoned, if he followed the breeze's source. He shuffled along, glad that he had his shoes on because he stumbled and stubbed his toes on hidden cracks, crevices, and jutting outcroppings. He took it even slower, cursing under his breath when he jammed his foot against yet another obstacle. He didn't want to think of how badly his toes would be hurt if he didn't have any protection covering them.
He was more than relieved when he caught sight of the faintest glow of light, but even with his excitement simmering beneath the surface, he tamped it down.
Don't jump to conclusions just yet, he told himself.
He needed to find his way out, yes, but rushing could lead to bad results. Rushing was usually what his brother often did. Things worked out most of the time, sure, but other times…
Well, his temper matched with his impatient drive were often a volatile combination.
He'd need to keep his head on his shoulders if he was to find everyone.
He stopped suddenly, frozen, a chill rushing over his entire body. It felt like someone was watching him from somewhere in the dark. It wasn't a pleasant sensation and dread began to trickle into his limbs and muscles. Something was wrong. He quietly cleared his throat, his tongue thick in his mouth.
He debated calling out, then thought better of it. He listened, straining, and then…there. He could hear the hushed, almost silent, intake and exhale of someone breathing.
…or something. It sounded…big. Yet controlled. An animal of some sort?
He wasn't one to get easily scared, yet something inside him, a primal instinct told him it wasn't friendly, that it was something to fear, to flee from, a monster lurking in the darkness that was substantial and real. He could practically taste the bloodlust in the air, crackling about invisibly between him and whatever it was that was watching. Whatever it was, it could see him. He didn't have proof of this, but that same instinct was telling him it was so. It was the same fears a child was held in the grips of when they went to sleep in the dark, afraid of the monsters in the closet or under the bed, and only the light could chase it away.
This wasn't his bedroom and he wasn't a child, but it was a familiar feeling holding tight to him now, and he wasn't going to doubt it.
There was something else in the cave with him, having slipped in under the cover of the darkness and it used the dull ambient roar in the background to mask its approach.
He took one look back toward the faint glow at the end of the cave, his one chance to possibly escape, regroup, format a plan, get his bearings.
He whirled, instinct once more taking over like second nature. He trusted it, just as he trusted his heart to beat and his lungs to breath without conscious effort on his part. He clapped his hands and dropped to his knees, a flash of brilliant light arcing over his form as soon as his palms made contact with the cool stone. He kept his eyes locked upwards, and felt a dash of horror streak through him.
In the brief respite of light, he saw the creature, because that was what it was. Tall and hideously pale like bone, its arms were long and gangly and corded with lean, powerful muscles. It was broad in chest, but had no head. Instead, he saw jet black orbs imbedded in the shoulders, and a grotesque parody of a mouth dead center in the chest cavity. He remembered seeing photographs from a book, once upon a time, when he was a child. The memory was as dusty as the book had been when he and his brother had laid eyes upon it, but he remembered with stark clarity the gaping maw of a shark's mouth.
That's what that mouth in the monster's chest reminded him of: a shark's mouth imbedded in the chest of what looked like a humanoid beast. It's teeth were triangular and huge, much too huge for it to even properly close, and he suspected that, like a shark's mouth, it's innards were lined with several rows of the killing tools.
Cruelly carved talons tipped its pale hands, like crescent blades and they had been aimed for him. It had no distinguishing marks that gave it a definitive gender, none between its legs or along its frame that suggested anything familiar. It was just a towering humanoid shape, a parody of the human body, warped into a killing machine.
The creature disappeared quickly behind a makeshift, rushed construct of a stone wall, it's leap interrupted with an unceremonious thud as its body made contact. For a moment, there was only silence. His heart gave a jerk when the creature bellowed its displeasure at being thwarted, smashing into the wall. It wasn't thick, and it wouldn't hold for long, but he only needed a short moment to get away.
He turned and fled, heading in the direction of the faint glow at the end of the cave, hoping it was a way out, and an escape to safety.
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"LOCK IT THE FUCK UP!"
Everyone shut up.
Everyone turned to look at Lupin.
Her voice had boomed so loudly, that most were shocked such a large voice could be produced by such a small person. She ignored their stares. She was used to the surprise directed at her. Plenty of male Marines were often left in a similar stupor when she raised her voice, and it wasn't often enough so sometimes, they simply forgot she could crack down on them with a voice of thunder.
Now it was silent as the grave, and everyone else finally seemed to take notice.
"Is it supposed to be this quiet?" She heard Sam ask across the way. Lupin pursed her lips, glancing at Valka. The Viking woman looked equally troubled.
"No," she stated outright, confirming their suspicions. "It's not."
"What d'ya hear, kid?"
Lupin's ears twitched at Hellboy's low baritone voice, slowing her breathing, stretching her senses as far out as she could. Whiplash scooted closer towards the werewolf, his body just as stiff as hers, like an alert big cat who just heard something foreign and new enter its territory. His black ear nubs were upright and still, eyes nothing but wild green and black slits and he was barely breathing himself.
Lupin focused, pushing out all extrasensory distractions in the immediate area: the rush of everyone's blood pumping; the pounding of their hearts marching along like war drums; the sucking of their breathes into lungs; the subtlest scuffle of boots or claws on stone flooring; the whoosh of the fire burning in the torches…
Instead, she could hear the roaring thunder of the ocean beating against the cliffs; of the soft whispering hush of water sighing along the sandy beaches; the murmur of the wind rattling through the distant forest; the ever-so-slight evidence of large beasts moving about in the village…
She flinched when something new invaded the hush: a voice. Tinny and desperate, it was calling for someone, anyone, to answer him.
Lupin withdrew back, tilting her head toward Whiplash. The Night Fury warbled, shifting his head ever so slightly to incline it to her. He heard it as well. She turned to face Valka.
"Stay here," she said, and she saw the flare of protest alight itself in the older woman's eyes. Her grip tightened along her shepherd's crook and she moved to follow. Lupin stopped, pawed feet scratching on the stone flooring. Everyone else flinched, jerking into motion, looking similarly ready to leap in.
"What is it?"
"Someone's out there," Lupin explained, expelling her annoyance and exhaustion from her voice before it could be heard. She didn't want to snap at Valka.
"You can hear someone out there? I can't hear anything."
This remark came from Dean. Lupin turned to face the taller man, giving him a rather poignant, "Are you stupid?" look that said it all.
He shifted on his feet, looking unimpressed and unhindered.
"Well?" He pressed.
She stabbed at the air, motioning to her ears, still holding her annoyed look. Him, she had no reservations stepping over with little restraint. He's made it fairly clear he had no lost love towards what she was and didn't seem to bother with who she was.
"Not for fucking decoration."
"So more people are out there? You might need help rounding them up."
"Person. Singular. I think I can handle it."
She felt all eyes on her and on any other occasion, she wouldn't have felt the pressure mounting.
When she had been on her deployment and tensions were running high, and the air tasted as though a conflict was just right around the corner, she had never felt nervous. Not once. She had barely felt the stab of uncertainty drive its blade into her like it had into her fellow Marines, her leaders and subordinates alike. Perhaps it was the arrogance of knowing she couldn't really die—not by the conventional knife or bullet and certainly not by the average human in hand-to-hand combat, or even a trained soldier the likes of which she had fought. Possibly it was the confidence in her inhuman status, in the array of advantages she had over her human allies and enemies alike. Maybe it was the faith in her abilities to survive by the skin of her teeth, and to pull everyone's weight along with her without worry or doubt.
She hadn't questioned it in the past. She hadn't wanted to. She simply wanted it to continue helping push her through the combat zones, the firefights, the ambushes, even the doldrums of time waiting in between them all.
Now, she was feeling its full weight crushing down on her, like it was Rusty settling his entirety on her. She was treading in unknown waters and for once, she was uncertain. She felt a pinprick of uncertainty and apprehension and fear worming its way into her system. Lupin was suddenly unsure of whether or not she could help these people and was questioning whether or not she was really the right person for this job, if the twins had wasted their time advocating for her to take this position, only for her to prove them wrong on her abilities to work in these conditions.
Lupin hurriedly put her hand on Whiplash's head, trying to hide the trembles threatening to consume her limb. She was soothed by his presence, his warmth. She was reassured by the strength of his being there, a silent support she hadn't known she needed until she reached for him. The werewolf quickly swung herself into his riding saddle.
One of the gargoyles, Lexington, leapt in the way, holding his arms out to stop her and Whiplash.
"Wait a minute, now hold on! One of us should go with you, just in case something really is wrong out there. I don't know about the rest of you, but I've got a pretty bad feeling something big is coming."
Her gut lurched unpleasantly at the implications, and scenarios bounded through her mind.
Somebody finally fucking said it and it hadn't been her. She felt a little shame at that, knowing she'd failed in pointing out the obvious: something she prided in when it came to tense situations such as these.
There were murmurs of agreement rippling through the rest of the group and nods from more than half of them. Lupin glanced back over at Valka, seeing the woman was already clambering nimbly up to Cloudjumper's shoulders. The Stormcutter looked appropriately ready to go himself, his great finned head shaking and trembling in anticipation. He uttered a long, low and deep hiss of displeasure, his great yellow eyes focused on the doors to Meade Hall.
"Aw, fuck," Lupin cursed quietly under her breath. She jerked a thumb up, using it to point over her shoulder and behind her. "Fine, then. Hurry up and choose, then get up here. We're wasting time."
OoOoOoOoOoO
The creature was on his heels. He couldn't see it, but he could sense it all the same.
It was strong, whatever it was. He wondered briefly if it was a Chimera—a fusion of a human and perhaps some shark to account for its toothy maw, and something else completely that he couldn't identify. Maybe some type of bird of prey, if he could judge those talons on its hands that it had.
Whatever creature it really was, there was one obvious thing that he could identify it as: it was a predator, through and through. It had the tools of the trade, the raw instinct, the animalistic behaviors of one. It wanted to hunt, it wanted meat, and he was providing an excellent choice for both those categories.
Luckily for him, he wasn't going to make it easy for the beast.
Even luckier still, he had indeed found the way out of that cave and into the freedom of…well, wherever it was he was at. He'd have time to figure things out, once he coordinated a plan of defense and attack. He needed a place to hole up in, think, calculate his next steps.
He was hoping for a town.
This place was not what he was expecting.
It was a village, yes, but it was rustic and archaic in design and function.
It was also apparently abandoned.
No one came rallying to him as he cried out for someone, anyone, to open their doors, to admit him inside, to help assemble their defenses against the monster giving chase to him.
Or maybe I shouldn't involve anyone. If anything, someone else would get hurt on my behalf. I can't let that happen!
He quickly clammed up, realizing he was also giving the beast his location by crying out in this empty place. His voice carried a little too easily to his liking.
He ran on, his lungs burning like fire had been set to them, his legs growing heavy and tired, his head heavy and full of building pressure as the ideas plugged away. His stride was slowing. Ever since he'd returned to his body, he and his brother had been building up his strength. He was almost at full strength, but almost wasn't completely. He still lagged in comparison, and he was never quite reaching the goals he had set for himself. This was a perfect example of why he wished he had surpassed it long ago, even if he understandably and logically knew that his body needed the time to heal, recuperate, rebuild itself.
He darted between buildings, deciding to throw the beast off his trail—and collided right into it instead.
He jerked away, shoving away as hard as he could, trying to summon back another round of adrenaline through sheer will power. If he had to fight, he'd fight.
All his luster came to a grinding halt, when the body he had collided into moments before uttered an indignant, "Hey!"
He stopped altogether, taking in the sight before him.
It was a woman shorter than him he had ran into, not the towering pale beast from the cave. She had a wild mop of wavy dark hair, donning a sleeveless shirt and blue slacks as her attire. Those were his first impressions before the details began to sink in. Wolfish ears stuttered atop her head, tall and triangular, a bushy tail poking out from her backside, and a pair of paws as her back feet. She took a step forward, her eyes a mismatch of blue in the right, gold in the left, hard yet curious as she regarded him.
A wolf Chimera…?
"Hey, man—we heard shouting. Was that you?"
His chest was tight and painful, but with every breath the knot of tension and prickle of discomfort began to ease away. He wished his legs didn't feel like heavy lead weights, however. He found himself nodding, or he hoped he was. He swallowed, his throat and mouth dry, but he tried all the same to talk.
"Woke up in a cave not far from here. I was...attacked. I don't know what it was, but it's out here, hunting me. I managed to throw it off but—"
His thoughts came to halt. What if he had thrown it off his trail, but it went after someone else in his stead? If this woman had heard him shouting and came to his aide, then that meant there were others here as well.
"But what? Spit it out."
"What if it's attacking someone else? What if its killed them?"
"Pssh. Unlikely. Village ain't really got any inhabitants, if you haven't noticed. Just a few new arrivals today, like yourself. Most of them are up in Meade Hall, over yonder. These guys and me, we're the only ones out here right now."
At this, the woman motioned behind her, and he took notice of the others for the first time.
He wasn't exactly comforted at first glance.
One of them was another woman, tall and only slightly older looking, but overall appeared like a normal human. She was dressed in leather and furs, a stylized shepherd's crook in hand. She offered a tired smile to him, one of comfort and ease, but it was hard to allow that to come over him when behind the woman stood a gargantuan winged creature with big, bright yellow eyes staring down at him. The creature timbered softly, its flat face tilting around until it was nearly upside down.
Standing not far from the two women was a smaller humanoid, winged creature. It had a beaked face, white hair, wore no clothes except a loinclothe and allowed the rest of its skin, red like rust, to remain exposed. A long, powerful tail was coiled behind it—him, he corrected himself. It looked like a male, if he was allowed to judge. The creature offered a wave.
"Hey. How's it going. Rough night?"
He offered a faint smile, unsure of whether to believe this was truly real life or perhaps this was some kind of elaborate dream. Or nightmare, perhaps.
He took notice of the silent black creature settled beside the wolf-woman last, startled when he noticed the pair of eyes floating midair beside her before realizing they were connected to a physical body. It was smaller and slimmer in build, black as night and coiled like a cat. A very large, scale-covered, wing-limbed cat.
"Focus. Focus. Hey. Eyes on me. What attacked you?"
"Some kind of monster. I'm not sure what. A Chimera, perhaps?"
"Chimera?" The woman growled, and he jumped at just how…inhuman a noise it was. It sounded…wrong. Like the heavy growl of a wolf instead of the grumbly growl of a human.
"I'm not sure," he pressed stringently, his brow knitting together in uncertainty. "I only caught a glimpse of it before I escaped. It's out there, though."
"Uh, guys?" The beak-faced creature started.
"Hang on, Brooklyn." The wolf-woman said over her shoulder before returning her attention back to him. "Can you describe it?"
"Uh…I think I might be able to help with that."
"Brooklyn—"
"It wouldn't happen to be tall, pale, with a mouth full of nasty and no head whatsoever, would it?"
He turned to look at the beaked, winged humanoid creature, curious and surprised at first—before it quickly transitioned into understanding that the creature was staring somewhere else and not at them. He turned to look and felt his heart sink.
The pale beast that had attacked him in the cave was squatting on one of the roofs of the house, its big black eyes set in its shoulders staring intently at them, that horrid shark-like mouth shivering and making its teeth click and chitter against one another. Everyone else turned to look as well, taking note of his distraction.
"What the fuck is that thing?" He heard the wolf-woman spit out. The creature on the roof growled. The black creature beside the wolf-woman growled back, low and deep and from the chest. He was close enough to feel the air vibrate from the noise reverberation alone. It definitely gave him the impression that this was a creature to not mess with, perhaps even more so than the pale headless beast on the roof.
"Why hasn't it attacked yet," the other woman asked, her voice quiet and cautious.
"It might be confused. Consider it a good thing," wolf-woman answered. "Hey, kid, what's your name?"
He was startled, at first, at being addressed so directly and abruptly. He was too busy keeping his gaze locked on the beast, ready for it to leap into action, that he didn't answer right away.
His mouth was dry and his throat felt as though sand was scraping along it, but he managed an answer all the same. "I'm Alphonse. Alphonse Elric."
Wolf-woman sighed and from the corner of his eye, he saw her drawing something from the sides of her thighs.
"Well, then, I suppose it's great meeting you, Alphonse, despite the current situation. Either way, I think you should step back behind Whiplash there, and let me handle this."
"Do you really think we're going to let you do this alone, you've got another thing coming," the beaked-creature interrupted, casting an annoyed glare wolf-woman's way. Alphonse stole a glance between them all, quick as a wink. The wolf-woman had a pair of knives in each of her hands, both of them almost as long as her forearms. The woman by the giant winged-creature was holding her shepherd's crook at the ready. The beaked and winged creature was settling into a low crouch, hands splayed out to display the lethal claws at the ends of his fingers.
The black, sleek creature came prowling around him. The pale beast on the roof jerked its body to follow the movement and Alphonse shivered, feeling as though the beast was watching him specifically and solely.
Either it was petty and remembered him spurning its attempts to attack him—or it was a man-eating creature. He didn't doubt the latter very much, judging by the arsenal of hunting tools the creature had at its disposal.
"All right, then, fine—do what you want. I'll stitch you up later," the wolf-woman retorted. With a growl, she turned to the pale beast and raised her voice to a startlingly loud shout, "Come on and get it, you ugly sonuvabitch!"
OoOoOoOoOoO
Terminology:
Killer: It's an endearing nickname Marines call one another. There are many like these for us. Devil Dog, knucklehead, and crazy are just a few others we've called one another (and I have been called these things as well, since well…I was a Marine for eight years lol).
Gunny: Short for Gunnery Sergeant, an E-7 on the Enlisted half of the Marines. The highest ranks are Sergeant Major and Master Gunnery Sergeant, which share the E-9 slot…unless you're the Sergeant Major of the Marine Corps, which is the actual highest held Enlisted position (although it's not a promoted rank, it's an elevated job and the description is right in the name, you have to be a Sergeant Major to qualify) and like a Highlander, there can be only one.
Additional Notes: Long chapter is long. I'll try to limit Marine terminology, and what lingual tics there are, I'll try to explain them to the best of my abilities for y'all.
Also, because I already know not many are going to get the reference of the monsters of this chapter, I'll spoil that one detail. They are the Anthropophagi, as utilized and described as in Rick Yancy's horror novel, The Monstrumologist. Wonderful novel, great read, and I highly recommend it for anyone who hasn't looked into, heard of, or read it already!
