DARKSTALKERS: THE NIGHT WARRIORS
Chapter 9: First Dance
Fanfiction by Louis the Rogue
(Original story by Capcom Inc.)
The great chandelier above cast a more surreal light about the room now, the maids and menservants gathered about on the balcony in their tuxedoes and gowns, each of them now wearing an off-white, skull-shaped mask as they watched in silence, their bodies unmoving as if in a trance.
The tiled marble floor below echoed with a mechanical shriek as the bat-like wings at the hips of Morrigan Aensland assumed a morphic consistency and shifted into something akin to jet-like gills that catapulted her forward eagerly with a trail of fire and smoke.
Though just as eager, Demitri remained on guard, a hand behind his own right hip glowing at the palm with a subtle red light until the woman came within point blank range, at which point he took a step back and released his infamous hellfire projectile, aiming for her lungs.
"Trying to take my breath away?", Morrigan taunted with a dreamy smile as she readjusted her center of gravity to her chin and shifted her weight up from the collarbone down to narrowly avoid the blast. After this, she promptly reassigned this center to her shoulder and rolled the rest of her body around it to bring a painful knee to the jaw of the unprepared Demitri, turning his head upward at the neck in a mild uppercut before she released and flew back with a repeat of her jet-gill technique, landing a few feet away and resuming her disarmingly casual stance.
It was not a moment too soon; in no more time than it had taken her to make a brief distance between them, Demitri had closed the gap in a flying charge, his cape waving wildly behind him and his eyes burning with a fire vicious enough to match his smile as he backhanded the lady across the face, followed with a crouch to one knee and a spinning trip, and vanished in a fog only to reappear in a spiraling downward kick aimed for the very head he had just turned.
Once again, Morrigan would catch him off guard. Even as she recoiled from the force of his knuckles at her cheek, she was able to readjust her center of gravity at the small of her back and acrobatically throw her legs up in a flying kick to counter his own. The stalemate rebounded them both several feet away from the center of the room where they had been, and they resumed their stances respectively.
"You fight dirty", Morrigan's expressed a slight frown, then smiled with that usual glint in her eyes, "But at least you're not boring."
Demitri sprang off his heels, both palms alight with his fireballs, "You'll find that I have plenty of surprises in store!"
"Oh?", Morrigan rebuffed with a listless expression as she raced upward, over, and behind him with alarming speed, leaving a quickly fading jetstream in her wake, and crossed her arms over her heart. Her image became hazy and split like a mirror divided into the resolidification of two identical copies of herself, each of which sent a sideways punch with their outer arm in symmetry, catching Demitri at both sides of his face as he whirled around in the meantime. The twins followed with an equally symmetrical knee to his ribs, the force of the attacks doubling him over for only a moment in midair, which was all the time she needed to restore herself into one being in the same manner and jackhammer the nobleman at the back of the neck with both fists entwined, sending him crashing into the floor below with an echoing thud.
Though she could have pursued, Morrigan instead hovered horizontally to her right with the speed of a small cloud on a sunny day, her eyes fixed on Demitri as he rose to his feet, meeting her disappointed gaze with a brooding scowl.
Noting her gesture, Demitri's expression became an arrogant sneer, "You show me charity on the false pretense that I am in need of it, and that is your weakness; the very weakness of your father on that fateful day. It is inexcusable."
Morrigan's expression now concealed a fiery glare, and her formerly complacent expression was obviously agitated, "As I recall, Lord Demitri, my father defeated you with but a low-powered warning shot, and you are barely sport for me."
"I see", Demitri chuckled with the satisfaction that he had gotten under her skin, his body assuming a fiery halo as it enlarged and contorted into the shape of a fiendish, humanoid bat creature with large, leathery wings that were as gray as the short fur about the muscular body, overly large fangs akin to those of a bestial vampire, and feral red eyes, "Then I shall up the ante if only to your pleasure!"
As the room about them began to tremble with an awesome and horrible power that had been previously been encaged in the dark lord's own body, Morrigan placed curled hand under her chin and smiled curiously. "So, that's his true form", she thought to herself, "It's about time he got serious."
Even as she finished her thought, a large ball of roiling fire burst into existence just above her, the monstrous Demitri visible in the flames though partially concealed by them. Morrigan's eyes widened as she turned with a start to see that perilous smile of his and felt two strong arms wrap around her in a frighteningly firm hold. His voice seemed to resonate on a deeper level than it had as he leaned in to whisper in her ear and tightened his grip to make it all the more inescapable, "Our foreplay is at an end; it is time to commit yourself, Milady."
Morrigan closed her eyes and breathed a heavy sigh; his grip was not the only thing weakening her as she leaned forward to return the whisper in his own pointed ear, "That wasn't just innuendo, was it Demitri? Whatever passion holds you, I will not be bound." As Demitri's expression grew a bit more thoughtful, she threw her head back, slamming it forward into his own and thrust her knee up sharply, catching him between the legs in an area she knew would be more sensible at this point.
With a shrieking cry, Demitri was forced release his hold and give Morrigan the time she needed to make a kicking dash off his chest with her stiletto heels, hovering a few meters away and above, now between him and the chandelier. Her gaze upon him as he rose from a stiff hunch to his full height was no longer passive and playful; a heated bloodlust had taken its' place, and as he stared back, she knew it was returned.
The quake had subsided almost as quickly as it had arisen, but it could be felt even in the cemetery room of the labyrinth, where Jon Talbain lay bloody and broken against Felicia, the two of them sitting beside the lifeless Victor under the old tree. The darkness was nearly consuming save for the dim light of the concealed moon, and a fierce, bitter wind howled through the area to blow away the fog, seemingly generated from the large, charred circle in the grass where Zabel had been moments before.
He was gone now; the werewolf could no longer pick up his foul scent in the area, but his tension mounted all the same with an ever-increasing dread that the force emitting that ponderous aura of evil the pulsed through his nerves in waves was far deadlier. He couldn't put his finger on why, but he knew who it was on a subconscious level, his inner beast remembering such a feeling from when it had battled him before.
Felicia must have sensed something too, she must have felt that horrible dread that swelled outward from the distant battle between the feuding nobles, because she clung tighter around him as she shouted over the wind, "It's awful Jon. You were right. This isn't a funhouse, it's a slaughterhouse."
Even in his critical condition, Talbain couldn't resist a wry grin, "Took you long enough to figure it out… speaking of out, I think I'm lost in this place; you?"
"I think I took a wrong turn at Albuquerque", Felicia gave him a bittersweet smile, trying desperately to help lighten the mood.
Talbain actually grinned with a "heh", just to humor her, and looked over to Victor with a pained groan, "No sense in asking you, I guess, but for what it's worth, we gave it a damn good run eh?"
"Perhaps I can be of assistance", an articulate voice called from just beyond the fog at the edge of the graves.
Talbain's nostrils flared briefly as he looked to two silhouettes, one tall and slender, the other shorter and incredibly stout, "I thought I smelled something fishy."
Felicia stood with a glare as the fish-man and sasquatch approached, readying a stance, "Look guys, I know the tournament's still on, but these two can't fight now."
Quatos shrugged, "Who said we were looking for a fight?"
Aulbath crossed his arms and grinned mischievously, "Why, she did! I think she's looking at you funny there Tubs; you better watch out for her deadly mew."
"Why, you son of a b-", Felicia reached back to give the mouthy merman a good swipe across the face but felt a hand grab her own with just enough strength to restrain her. She looked back to the ailing Jon and blinked incredulously.
Talbain looked half dead now himself, and spoke softly, "These guys aren't our enemies or they would have attacked us already. Let's not provoke them."
Felicia rolled her eyes and turned her back with an indignant posture, arms crossed and tail squared, "Whatever."
As Quatos threw Victor limply over his massive shoulders, Aulbath leaned down to get a steady arm around Talbain under his shoulders and grinned at Felicia standing there, "Is she always this friendly?"
Talbain stood with the help to the best of his ability, heavily leaning against the aquatic humanoid for support, his eyes distant and his smile boyish, "Are you always a dick?"
Aulbath couldn't suppress a laugh, "You have balls, chiding your ride like that."
Talbain winced, biting his lip in pain, "I'll take your word for it; I can't feel them right now."
They both laughed as they headed back into the fog after Felicia and the Victor-burdened Sasquatch. For whatever reason, they were not afraid to wander; their sense of direction seemed right on, although they had previously felt utterly lost. Of course, they could not have known that a subtle power was calming their nerves and keening their senses: a bald, bearded man smiling kindly from where he meditated, hidden and alone in the haze.
Abadi Khan looked up from his trance and watched after them thoughtfully, "They will live long, and boldly all the same; such is their fondest wish."
The dueling figures flew at each other in a circling pass from across the ballroom, as if hawks in flight. The demonic Demitri's large claws glowed intensely with a blood red halo, while that around the beautiful hands of Morrigan was a golden hue. As the passed, each turned at the waist and interlocked their fingers with those of the other, the dark power in their bodies beginning to spring outward in a flurry of sparks around the room.
Both warriors glared into each others' eyes with an intensity that was a weapon in and of itself. Each maintained the hand lock with a ferocity that threatened to rip each other apart, their bodies propelled toward one another by their own force of will like magnets. They were no longer merely eager to battle; they were bent on it.
As their foreheads touched together, eyes locked, Demitri broadened his smile and tensed, his muscles bolstering themselves and becoming more defined as his hands began to slowly push back those of his opponent.
Morrigan gritted her teeth, her agile body having silent spasms as she tensed every muscle within to maintain the hold, her flawless features becoming less like Aphrodite and more like Athena with the attempt.
She had never felt anything like this. This was the exhilaration she had sought from the day of her birth; that seemed like an eternity to her now. She couldn't push him back any further, he was getting stronger as she resisted, and this excited her to no end. She knew now that this duel was her birthright, and perhaps that is why she barely resisted when the domineering lord lunged his head forward and sunk his teeth deep into her neck, waiting patiently until a steady trickle of blood began to flow from the wound before he withdrew them.
"Yes", she thought to herself, "This is the greatest joy there is. This is what it means to be alive. The stronger he is, the stronger he will make me. So this is a challenge…"
With a euphoric smile, the body of Morrigan Aensland began to take on a blinding glow as she released Demitri's hands and gripped tightly around his shoulders, a shrieking cackle cascading from her lips.
Demitri struggled to return the grapple, but could not even move his arms. The body of the demon began to shift back into his more humane form involuntarily, and his eyes widened in absolute terror as his limbs began to grow limp. For the first time in his life, he experienced a weakness beyond humility and a shame beyond defeat. What he felt now was to be truly, inescapably, vulnerable. His eyes closed slowly as he submitted, against his will, and fell against her with a bitter cry of agony.
When she felt no more resistance, Morrigan came to her senses and released, her rival dropping unconsciously to the ground with where he laid on his back and convulsed, unable to do anything else.
Lowering herself, Morrigan's heels touched the floor with an echoing click. She stared longingly in the direction of the dark lord and reached up to run a hand across the wound on her neck. "I could kill him now", the statement was more of a realization that anything, "But I would only be killing myself; we are a part of each other now. Two halves of an enigma lost on lesser creatures."
She turned toward the room's main exit, but looked back over her shoulder, "And so I take my leave, Lord Demitri. If you dream in that place where you've gone, dream of our next dance." She couldn't help but smile, "Dream that it's soon."
With the genuine laugh of a schoolgirl, she waltzed with herself down the corridor and out of sight, leaving the slumbering Demitri where he laid.