The Quick and the Undead

Frankenstein/Undead Golem AU

BassRock week: May 15 - Zombie

-A/N: That's right, two entries for the same prompt! This non-shippy fanfic of a fanfic is an alternate timeline for MiggyBird's "Rock on the Scorching Sand", a post-apocalyptic Frankenstein monster/corpse golem AU, which is a really rad story you should check out. It's not finished, but I have the feeling that nobody will get out of the story alive, so this is a fantasy happy ending.

"You've had a good run, but it's time to face the music."

Or at least, that's what Rock was pretty sure Bass was trying to say. Mostly it was a sort of unintelligible mumbling. Drawing his pistol as he spoke, he aimed with an unsteady hand, and—

click. click. click.

Rock slowly climbed to his feet, having thrown himself in front of Thomas to shield him, and helped the old man up. Glancing back at Bass, he shook his head in disbelief.

"How— how are you still—?" Rock could have sworn he'd put an end to him. No, he definitely had killed Bass. Even now, the other golem was in no shape to be talking, much less walking, to say nothing of trying to attack. He honestly reminded Rock less of the skilled fighter he'd faced before, and more of the shuffling 'zombies' from the picture movies Otto had told him about.

At the time, he'd been quietly offended by the comparison.

"How in Sam Hill are you functioning?" Thomas asked.

Sneering, Bass attempted to fire another round. click. click. click.

The answer appeared to be 'grit', or a dogged, singular drive that superseded death itself.

Strolling over to him, Rock reached out, grabbed the barrel of his gun, and yanked it away. Bass looked confused. He glanced at his empty hand, then at Rock, then back at his hand. Made a fist. Took a swing. When Rock easily side-stepped the thrown punch, Bass stumbled from the momentum and face-planted on the ground.

They'd taken him back to the doctor's workshop, at first. There was no reasoning with Bass but they tried anyway, and Thomas even began some repairs. Somehow— no thanks to Otto, built like a bear and just as bright— Bass managed to escape.

He didn't go very far. Instead he proceeded to hang around, hounding Rock and generally making a nuisance of himself. Attacking whenever the opportunity arose.

Which was to say, whenever Rock was minding his own damn business.

"Rrrrrgh!"

Bass lunged from behind another building, but Rock still had enough time to set down the box he was carrying, turn, and clock Bass in the jaw. He went down hard, and Rock almost felt bad enough to help him back up.

"Stop. Please." Silence. "Albert is dead," he explained for the hundredth time. "You no longer have a duty to follow his orders." His patient explanation went over as well as it did before:

Not at all.

"Kill… you…!" Bass shouted from the ground, rolling over in an effort to get to his knees.

With a sigh, Rock looked around, found a broken fence beam, dragged it over and dropped it on top of Bass, pinning him to the ground. Half the reason he hadn't just finished him off (again) was because Albert was gone, and as far as they could tell, that should have released him from his old orders. The other half was because, honestly, Bass wasn't bothering anyone else. He never even went after Thomas or Otto.

"There," Rock said, dusting off his hands. It ought to buy them a few days.

The only response from Bass was a howl of rage and indignation.

They didn't heal physically, but Bass seemed to return his senses as days turned to weeks.

Still, he was unrelenting.

Worse yet, he started fighting smarter, not harder.

Which is how they ended up in this mess— wrestling with each other as Bass tried to choke Rock out— which was physically impossible, it wasn't like he needed to breathe in the first place.

A dry chuckle stopped them both in their tracks. Rock glanced up at Blues and sighed. There was no point asking where he'd been, or why he'd chosen to return now. "Could you give me a hand?"

"Oh I think you can handle him on your own." He looked… amused. It left Rock with a strange feeling.

"You didn't have anything to do with this, did you?"

Holding his hands up Blues shrugged, neither confirming nor denying anything.

Bass growled and attempted to gouge Rock's eye with his thumb. Renewed by Blues' presence, Rock shoved Bass off of him, then trapped him in an arm hold. He struggled to keep his footing as Bass tried to jerk free.

"Well, thanks for nothing. He doesn't understand that Albert is gone—"

"Nnnnnuh uh!" He attempted to throw Rock, and failing that, dropped his weight backwards, sending them both to the ground in a heap. "Not… doin' this… for Doc," Bass said, his words barely coherent. "Kill you… for myself…!"

It was the first real response anyone had gotten from him since his return from the dead (so to speak).

"What?"

"You! You… ruined… e'rythin'!"

That gave Rock a pause, because from Bass' perspective, it was absolutely true. Taking advantage of his hesitation, Bass landed two good punches to his face.

Rock grunted and shoved him away. "Quit that!" Then he sagged. "…that's… that's fair, I suppose. But I had no—"

"Revenge won't change what's past," Blues interrupted.

Bass shot him a dirty look. "N'one… asked you."

"All that you can do now is move forward. You don't have to keep fighting."

"If you— we could get you patched up if you weren't trying to kill me," said Rock.

"No. Shhhhuddup!"

"Come on. Let us help you." Blues still wore an amused expression. "There's got to be something else you want from life."

At first Bass continued to seethe, but then faltered, a distant look creeping in his eyes.

"What is it?"

He scooted away from Rock, refusing to meet either of their gaze. "I…" Hesitant, he punched the ground, then started absently tearing at a patch of crabgrass. "It…"

There was a long, uneasy silence.

"Th-think… th' syst'm can… think it'll work… on dogs?"