DARKSTALKERS: THE NIGHT WARRIORS
Chapter 8: Rivals
Fanfiction by Louis the Rogue
(Original story by Capcom Inc.)
As the piercing, dog-like eyes of the werewolf met his own, Zabel sprang upward, saw ready, his kill-or-be-killed survival mechanism suddenly kicking in. Felicia watched in mild disbelief as both the figures grappled each other at the shoulders in mid-air, a flash of sheet lightning perfectly framing the iconic image of the duel to come.
Like birds of prey, neither let up, even as they fell spinning to the ground below with an echoing thud. Each leaping back from the fall and catching their balance, the two warriors circled in a single pace and charged one another, a whoosh, a buzz, and a clang ending in sparks as the saw blade tangled in the iron chains of a weapon the challenger had seemingly pulled from nowhere; a nunchaku with oak grip handles.
Pulling back, the wolf ripped the saw from the assassin's hand and growled, "That the best you got? Come on! I'll kill you!"
"Kill?", Zabel twisted himself around backwards at the waist, jumped, and threw his legs around to complete a 360 degree rotation at the backbone, one foot releasing a blade through the heel that swiped across the wolf's face hard enough to turn his head, giving the death rocker the time he needed to complete an awkward crouch landed on one foot, then spring forward to attack with a knife-fingered hand, "Speakin' my language!"
In a move too fast to be caught by the human eye, the wolf grabbed Zabel at the wrist, hoisting him haplessly into the air and opened his lupine eyes, blood streaming down from hisshredded brow and spilling over one of them as he sliced the nails of his free arm down a tombstone, making enough sparks to create cinders on the grass and the sound of nails on glass, "How about maim?"
Zabel's expression turned from one of menace to one of horror, followed by a snake-like hiss and a frantic flurry of blows from his hands, feet, and teeth, too many weapons to count flying from his limbs in a horrific attack that eventually forced a release and retreat to so many meters away on the part of the werewolf.
Thoroughly cut up from nose to tail, the werewolf in the indigo trousers stood panting, taken completely off-guard when the maniac leapt at him and tackled him to the ground, pinning his weakened body down by the neck. With a scream of unbound rage, Zabel expelled a knife from his wrist, gripped it at the handle, and proceeded to slice at the face of his personified threat over and over again, turning the wolf's head from one side to the other with each horrific attack.
Felicia watched in horror as the barbaric beating continued, glancing over to the injured Victor now and again, who had seemingly lost consciousness from the venomous poison that had frozen his muscles solid under the old tree where he laid in a slump.
Still screaming at the top of his lungs, Zabel continued his vicious assault. The wolf's vision had long since gone blurry, and in this near death experience his memories began to flash before him. He recognized himself as Jon Talbain, in brief recollections at first, and then in stronger impulses. The high moon above kept his transformation intact, but the wolf was clearly Jon Talbain now.
As luck would have it, Jon Talbain knew something the wolf didn't. Something he was taught long ago about the power inside him. The "dark force" in his body was like a candle. If given the right sort of fuel, this candle could grow into a raging fire. His eyes snapped open, wide open, as he realized what that fuel was.
Zabel drew up his knife to swing again, but was caught by the arm by a furry white claw, drenched in blood. As the fingers began to tighten their grip, forcing the knife out of his hand, Zabel had to look twice to see if the moonlight was playing tricks on him. He could swear that a white light was shining from within the creature's body, giving it a subtle glow.
In his distraction, Zabel was the one to be caught unprepared as a knee rose up, slamming him in his barely protected back hard enough to propel him off of his victim, who swung his bloody fist around, the glow Zabel had sworn he perceived intensifying at the knuckles and belting the ghoul hard enough under the jaw to raise his body anotherthree feet sending it crashing to the ground with a groan afterward.
Jon Talbain stood, the smell of his own sweat and blood so strong it was making him nauseous. He tried his best to get into a ready stance, but his arms would barely move.
Zabel shook convulsively as he stood, a hollow and distant laughter escaping from somewhere in his throat, "Damn, I think ya broke my jaw. Yep, that one was a killer, but whadda ya know, I'm not dead yet! Ain't that a bitch?"
Felicia's eyes narrowed as the psychotic skeleton began to stride toward the weaving Tablain, then turned to Victor with a sigh, "This guy's a nightmare. That wolf's out there getting the life beat out of him, and we can't even help…"
"Yes… we… can…", Victor sputtered, the strange blue liquid that passed for blood flowing out of his neck in a pool.
"Huh?", Felicia blinked, "You can still talk?"
"Not important", Victor rumbled, "My fluids. They're flammable. You saw; he's afraid of fire. Take my fluids. Make them count…" His eyes rolling back, the artificial giant grew limp, his muscles relaxing completely now.
Walking forward, the catgirl knelt and cradled Victor's head in her arms, biting her lip as she looked at the wound on his neck, "Aww man, I hope it does count big guy…"
On his end of the battlefield, Talbain was using every ounce of his second wind just to stand as attack after attack came with a machete in the hands of the flyby Zabel, who cackled gleefully at every springing lunge, slicing the wolf to shreds.
As it was bound to, Talbain's strength finally ran out, his body crumpling to the ground under the weight of his broken knees. Zabel leapt in for the kill, but suddenly went astray as a shape pounced out of the darkness and tackled him onto his face.
Zabel turned his head around only to be sprayed in the face by a bitter-tasting fluid, then the swipe of a claw, the glare of two blue eyes, and a flurry of sparks. Then everything blurred as the rising of flames overcame his vision.
Felicia leapt back from the monstrous minstrel, landing beside Talbain as the ghoul stood up and screamed in agony, his face alight with roaring flames that quickly began to consume him whole, tearing what little flesh there was from the bones until they too began to char away and become as smoke in the fire. As his figure disappeared in the flames, a dark cloud fell over the moon, blocking its' light.
Talbain draped his arm around the girl, involuntarily beginning to resume the form of the man he was before, and winced, "We better get out of here."
Felicia looked over to the figure under the tree, a note of sympathy reflecting in her eyes, "Not without him…"
The sasquatch stood ready, the determined stare in his beady red eyes meeting an equal look in the sparkling blue eyes of his opponent on the water. He had been duped; that was obvious now. As the water in the lake itself began to rise up, snaking in multiple funnels around the fish-man, the yeti involuntarily tensed his muscles and raised his large fists, hoping he was prepared for whatever was about to hit him.
As he raised his arms and closed his eyes, willing the water to propel him like a spinning top into the air, Aulbath could feel a disturbance in the wild, gnawing at his concentration, but he attributed it to the fierce battles that must have been taking place elsewhere in this bizarre spectacle of a bout. Lowering his head, he opened his eyes, an intimidating aura of mystical blue energy radiating from them, and outstretched a webbed hand to release his attack.
However, he paused momentarily, taken completely aback when the bigfoot boldly sprang upward in his direction, fist outstretched. He couldn't move; a sudden chill behind him had robbed him of that ability. The noble merman watched in horror as his opponent came screaming toward him… and then beside him, slamming his massive fist into something not seen with a metallic clang.
His limbs once again obeying him, Aulbath turned on his heel, but lost control over his technique. As he fell with the water, he saw not one but two shapes in the air falling into the lake with him. And then there was the splash.
Moments later, a half-drowned sasquatch came bobbing out of the water with a loud splash, hauled onto the shore by the green-scaled merman he had just been fighting. Pulling himself onto his knees and gasping for air, the sasquatch sputtered water for a bit.
Aulbath stared intensely at the lake, feeling incredibly paranoid. When he heard the sputtering behind him stop, he spoke, "What was that thing…?"
The sasquatch stood behind him, still dripping from his unpleasant dip in the lake, and glared, "Rude as a human, that's what it is; the jerk just interrupted our match!"
Both of the bestial fighters watched as something came rising out of the water slowly, dramatically, as if it was simply levitating without so much as an effort. The crimson armor covering it looked rusty, but the shine of the gold trimming on the plates told a different story. The armor seemed to rest over an ethereal shape of a smoky hue, with hateful red eyes burning just under the rim of the helmet. The figure took a readied stance, bringing a two-finger hand gesture to its' forehead with one arm, and raising its' deadly katana with the other, then took off across the lake as if it were solid ground. Both of the witnesses swore they heard a sadistic laughter.
Aulbath smiled confidently as he took a fluid stance, the sasquatch behind putting up his fists to box again, "What do you say we teach him a lesson then, Furry One?"
The sasquatch's smirk was no less confident, "Let's do, Scales."
As the evil samurai came skidding to a stop at the bank, he turned on a heel and swung his katana point blank at Aulbath's face, or would have if he hadn't been lifted by the waist from behind by two large hands, giving the merman the time he needed to executing a backbend dodge and spring off his hands to kick the armored figure upside the helmet, knocking it from the neck.
Without warning, the armor sprang apart as if detonated from within, seemingly vaporizing the spirit inside. As the various pieces scattered around the area, Aulbath and the sasquatch covered their faces and tensed with anticipation.
"He's a slippery one", the yeti warned, his current ally nodding slowly in response to the comment, his eyes glued to the bizarre breastplate at his feet.
As quickly as it had scattered, the armor drew itself to the breastplate and spun upward, reforming into the ghostly samurai and slashing the merman across the chest with alarming speed. With an agonized cry, Aulbath fell.
The sasquatch was aghast at first, then enraged, his expression quickly shifting to match his mood as he came thundering forward at the demonic entity, grappled him around the shoulders, and swung him around as if no more than a discus, launching him into the trees with a mighty roar.
"You dishonorable wretch! Get out here and fight!", the fuming ape bellowed as he stood at the edge of the bank where line after line of trees began to form a forest.
A disturbing laugh rang through the trees, and the sasquatch shivered as he saw the armored spirit, now surrounded by an ethereal blue glow, come walking calmly and boldly out as commanded, sword to his side. The horrible face in the helmet smiled diabolically as he came closer and closer, "You appeal to the code for a handicap? A foolish mistake! I am Bishamon, the Evil Samurai. My honor was forfeit long ago."
"Enough! Fight me!", the sasquatch roared, thrusting his hands out to grab the fallen samurai at the shoulders again, but gritted his teeth in frustration as Bishamon's hands not only met the palms of his own, but held him back.
Their muscles tensing with the effort, both warriors maintained the stalemate, eyes locked in a fierce glower as each tried to intimidate the other.
As such, banter was begun, and the bigfoot made the first bid, "So you're a samurai, huh? Where's your lord then?"
"I am as a Ronin; my lord is dead", Bishamon returned with a vicious smile.
"I take it you killed him yourself", the yeti remarked with a cynical grin.
"The armor lusts for blood", the evil warrior gritted out, "I am the instrument of this lust; the Bather of Hannya, the Wielder of Kien, the Red Reap-?"
Bishamon paused with a start as his last victim thus far, the merman he had just struck down, stood behind his companion unscathed, that mystical energy burning in his eyes again. Those eyes were so focused, so pure in intent; it hurt the samurai to stare at them, and he had to look away. He even tried to resist the voice echoing in his head, chanting some incantation he could not identify.
But it was too late. The sasquatch leapt away and watched in awe as a greenish-gold flickering began to circle on the wind, summoned by the will of nature itself as the cry of every animal imaginable began to swim through the mind of the dark warrior, forcing him to his knees as he too cried out; a scream of agony.
The wind was forming something now; it was like a bubble. As the wind began to solidify into a translucent sphere, Bishamon hacked at it with the last of his strength, but to no avail; already it had begun to lift him off the ground like a caged animal. Aulbath lowered his hand. The spell was complete.
The bigfoot looked up at the imprisoned Bishamon in astonishment, "He's stuck there!"
Aulbath nodded, "And there he shall remain as long as there is nature here to hold him in check. It is the fate of those who upset the natural order to be entrapped by it."
As the merman turned to leave, the sasquatch gulped and shouted after him, "Hey! We didn't finish our battle bud! You owe me a rematch!"
The fish man turned and smiled, "You choose the place next time. I'll find you."
The sasquatch smiled back, "Alright then, but don't expect me to go easy on you next time. By the way skinny, for the record, what's your name?"
The sea creature gave a good-natured laugh, "Aulbath, and yours tubby?"
The bigfoot walked up and thumped his own chest again, "Quatos."
Aulbath nodded, "Quatos then… What do you mean 'easy'? You could barely keep up with the likes of me!"
Quatos threw an arm around his newfound comrade as they walked off into the forest together, "Well that's because I'm not in my element; just wait till next time!"
As Lord Maximoff watched the woman on the roof across from him, he could not help but tense with pleasure while readying himself to fight; she was flawless of figure, and the daughter of Belial no less. Her blood would be the sweetest taste in over one hundred years, and the thought alone made his mind swim.
Morrigan must have sensed this, because she relaxed her posture and crossed her arms, tilting her head with an amused smile, "This place… it doesn't seem fitting for the battle of battles, don't you agree?"
With a hearty laugh that shook his shoulders, Demitri Maximoff gave a simple gesture of his hand, the scenery around them burning away to reveal a backdrop behind it identical to the chandelier-lit ballroom of the evening before. The dark lord threw his cape behind him and offered a hand, assuming his stance, "May I have the first dance?"
A playful glint in her eyes and a charming smile on her face, Morrigan Aensland made a mock curtsy and assumed a stance of her own, "Amuse me, Lord Maximoff, and we can dance the night away…"