Chapter 2: Dark Night, Quick Strike
Phyrestar held up her left fist, signaling the team to stop. The next roof over a shadow moved. Star slipped her rifle off her shoulder, and slipped in behind an air conditioning unit. She shouldered her rifle and leaned across the air conditioning unit. "Will this damned machine kick on beneath my shot and throw me off?" she contemplated. The air about her was cool, maybe 65 degrees. No, the likely hood of the unit kicking on was slim. She smiled to herself and let her perception of the outside world cloud over a bit. She focused on her rifle, it's weight familiar in her hands, it's metallic body cool to the touch, waiting. She placed her eye to the scope and the world about her drifted away. The shadow in her scope became a man, but not quite a man. He seemed tattered and just a little frenzied as he stood watch on the roof across from her. He hunched in the shadows, lurking, searching. He seemed to search the horizon, then the landscape and then his immediate surroundings. Then back to the horizon again. Watch dog, or zombie, as this case happened to be, it mattered not to Phyrestar. Most things at the wrong end of her rifle ended the same way. She inhaled, slow and deep, willing her shoulders to relax. She exhaled, slowly, dropping her shoulders a bit, relaxing her body, and slowing her heart rate. The rifle lay heavy in her hands, still only waiting. Inhale...focus narrowing, body steading, details of the zombie-man's face clearing. Exhale...body relaxing totally, finger slipping from the trigger guard to the trigger. Inhale deep and hold. The zombie looked at her with empty eyes, not really seeing the second death coming his way. She compressed her whole hand in one steady, fluid motion. Trigger depressed, silver messenger of death slicing it's way through the cool night air, to land squarely between the zombie's eyes. His head snapped back with the impact of the bullet and pulled his useless body down to the roof, to lay in a pool of blackened blood. Exhale.
Shadestrike loved to watch Star execute a perfect shot. It was exhilarating to see the artistry in so violent an activity as dealing death. Even if the targets are undead already. Shade had already shouldered her rifle and as soon as Star dropped the first zombie, Shade dropped the second in much the same style as Star. Breath, relax, and only touch the trigger if you are ready to fire. Shade was ready, always ready. She scanned the roof for more blood to spill, but nothing was to be found. The roof was secure. She glanced over at Star who nodded her consent that the roof was clear and slipped up to the edge of the roof, to peer over the team from five stories up. They were engadged in clearing the perimeter swiftly. The rule of thumb with the group was, unless otherwise advised, when Star took the first shot, it was the "charge" signal for the team to clear and secure the perimeter of whatever their target happened to be.
Star popped the first, Shade popped the second and both turned their attention to the street below. Shadows morphed into team members and those members slaughtered the eight zombie ground perimeter that surrounded the abandoned church. Wolf slipped in through any opening that the cumbersome zombie left to him. He would duck, lunge and swipe, and as always landing the final blow somewhere in the target's skull. He spun, one black blade hovering in front of him, the other blade ready to strike off to his side. The next zombie lunged. He deflected him expertly, forcing him back a pace. He swiped the first blade across the creatures exposed face with a right handed back hand. As the creature snatched his hands to the black blood running from the wound on his face, he left his chest open. Wolf brought the same blade down at an angle cutting open the creature's chest from collar bone, to hip bone. With his left hand, he brought his second blade in an uppercut into the creature's chin and into his brain. He swiftly retracted his arm, pulling the blade free, and stepping clear of the falling corpse. He was the darkness and he wielded death like a graceful dancer. There was just as much art in his dance as there was violence. The thrill of a clean kill invigorated him. He felt the charge of success as keenly as the sea spray on his face when he used to be a Captain at sea. He felt alive.
Hardcore walked into battle like a storm rolling across an open plain. He walked up to his first zombie and simply knocked his guard aside like a parent knocking a child's toy away from them. He brought his right hand over his head and the blade down in the top of the zombie's skull. He had sunk his dagger in the first skull so deeply, and with such brutal efficiency that he chose to leave the blade there for later retrieval. With one swift motion he slipped "Gryphon's Rage" from it's sheath and brought it down in front of him. It's ancient steel begging to be quenched in blood, reliving it's birth. Hardcore was deadly, and light on his feet. He could feel the power of the blade vibrating through him, and smell the blood of the undead on the air. The sword's need to drink was almost as strong as his own. Parry, dodge, parry, strike. The blade sang out as it tasted blood, and the zombie fell, it's head rolling to a nearby storm drain. The blade could be sated with any blood, but Hardcore required clean blood. He controlled his hunger and concentrated on the task at hand, he could feed once inside with the criminals who deserved it. No matter how clean a strike, destruction always left him feeling empty and craving more destruction..
Phyrestone swung his gigantic blade in a huge, powerful arc, decapitating one zombie and maiming another. Stone had taken the zombie's arm off, at which point the zombie spared the arm on the ground only a fleeting glance and then descended on Stone with that single minded process that most undead suffer from. The zombie was too close for the blade, so Stone reached out with a massive left hand and grabbed the zombie by his greasy hair. The zombie swung his one arm in a feeble attempt to dislodge Stone. Stone brought the pommel of the huge sword up with his right hand to make skull splitting contact with the zombie's face. The zombie slipped to the ground, perching on it's hands and knees. Black blood pooling on the ground from it crushed nose and mouth. It looked up at Stone, it's single minded determination flaring in it's reanimated eyes. It looked up into the glare of a raised blade. Stone had the blade raised over his right shoulder like a golf club. He brought it down swiftly, and surely, like a medieval executioner, severing the zombie's head from his body. "Fore." He whispered to himself and his headless zombie with a predatory smirk.
Phyrerage could hear his breath harsh in his lungs. Several centuries of smoking would do that to a body. It mattered not to him. He intended to add more skulls to his collection this night. He ran in to the fray like Peterbilt into a highway pileup. The first zombie got a bone jarring shoulder check that sent his dilapidated body sprawling across the black pavement. He ignored the first zombie, now more then several feet away, and turned his attention to the second zombie. He grabbed the second zombie and proceeded to give his face a total re-constructive beating. The first zombie recovered, ignoring the gravel imbedded in his face and grabbed Rage's right shoulder. Rage dropped the second zombie to the ground like a rag doll, and grabbed the first zombie with his left hand. He leaned forward and pulled the zombie over his shoulder and on to the ground next to the second zombie. Swiftly he dropeed to one knee, gripped the zombie's head in both hands and gave a vicious twist. He felt the neck snap, the zombie cease moving and the flesh instantly dissolve. The zombie head came off in his hands with a sickening squelch of decaying flesh. H smirked at the head and looked up at the second zombie. It was sitting only a few feet from him scrabbling for purchase across what was left of the first zombie. Rage threw the head into the on coming zombie's grasp. "Catch." He said as he lunged forward, seconds after the head left his hands. He landed on the zombie, knocking him back to the pavement. With only a fraction of his battle rage tapped he put his knee in the zombie's chest and just tore his head clean off. No snapping of neck, or twisting of skin...just rage. He spit on the head in his hands and dropped it to the pavement as he rose. His heart thundered in his ears, and anger fueled his body. Raw fury just rolled off of him like fog off the sea.
Phyrestar smiled to herself and looked up at the wanning moon. She could feel the moon's power and tug as keenly as the day she was turned, it brought her peace. She sighed, turning from the moon, for her job was not complete just yet. Her rifle slung on her back again, she stepped from the edge of the roof. The air rushed by her as she dropped the five stories to the glistening pavement below. She landed with no more a jolt the stepping off a curb, her vampire strength keeping her safe from the long fall. She walked over to her team and smiled at them. Shadestrike had also come down from the roof the fast way and joined them. Star nodded. "Guess it's time to announce ourselves." Star said and turned to face the doorway. Star concentrated for a moment before opening the door, wrapping herself in shadows, as did the rest of the group. Star opened the door enough to peer into the musty church.
Inside there were about 20 or so people, not creatures, with their backs to the door, attentions riveted to the dais in front of the building. At the front of the room was a man. His name was Jonas, and he wielded a power that was not his own. He was an average height man with thin brown hair, a slight build and eyes that glowed with fanaticism, and he pounded his fist on the podium as he spoke to the crowd of thralls that stood before him. To either side of the stage, wrapped in their own enchantments were "spellbinders". Magic users, but these ones only wielded the power to ensnare the mind. They went into a zombie like trance and then wormed their way into the mind of their target, not taking over, but coercing the victim into compliance. Right now they were weaving an enchantment over the crowd, making the possessed Jonas even more undeniable. "Your God is no one and nothing. He has abandoned you. Forsaken you. Left you to rot on this hellish world full of sin and hedonism. But I have the answer you crave, the attention you seek, and the power of my own God to back my claims to lead you. Lead you where, you ask? To lead you from this cesspit of human corruption into the service of my God...the only God...who speaks only through me...and to me...YOU WILL OBEY!!" Jonas cried, gripping the podium so hard tiny droplets of blood pooled under his hands and dripped from the podium to the dusty floor. The edges of the podium creaked under the pressure from his hands and the crowd cheered Jonas into an almost uncontrollable frenzy. Jonas was elated, his heart thundering in his ears and his pulse racing. He was the new God and these people loved him. He exhaled raggedly. He scanned the crowd and tapped into the power he felt building inside for days. He used it to enhance his aura and make himself more undeniable to all.
Yet, in the center of the crowd there was a woman. He was sure she was not there a moment ago, but she was there now. Darkly beautiful in black leather with auburn hair and blue green eyes. She was beautiful, and yet veiled in a dangerous aura. She stood defiantly, staring at Jonas. Staring through him, past the manipulations, and into the dark soul he harbored. She smiled a predatory smile at him. "Jonas." It was a mere whisper, but every ear in the room heard her and the power she exuded. "Jonas, your judgment as a false prophet is death. Face death and accept it. Do not make death come to you." Her smile never faltered and the crowd parted for the powerful woman who appeared.. Around her other black clad warriors appeared. Just as imposing, just as deadly. "Only Jonas and the spell casters. Leave the crowd they are only puppets. Jonas is mine alone." She said to her group and they all nodded, silently creating a perimeter around Star. She waited to see Jonas react before she committed her team to any more danger. She didn't have to wait long.
"Do you know who I am?!" Jonas asked, unfiltered rage coloring his shaky voice. The woman smiled again and this infuriated Jonas even more. "Yes...You are Jonas, yesterday plumber and today God wanna be with powers bequeathed to you from a demon. I will stop you. Again, do not make death come to you." Star said, barely above a whisper, yet again availing itself to every ear with augmented ease. Jonas raged inside. "Stupid woman...how dare you..." Jonas stopped short as the barrel of her Glock found it's way into his mouth. "Shhhhh." She commanded him. Suddenly he was afraid. She was 15 feet away and in the blink of an eye, covered the 15 feet and she was in his face with a gun in his mouth. Demon spawn. He was the new savior, his vision had said he was. How could this demon spawn best him? The people in the room started to tremble and run from the church. Jonas looked out the corner of his eye and spied two of her thugs gutting one of the spellbinders. He assumed that the other spellbinder had met a similar fate. Cold fear filled his chest and ran out into his arms with a shock. He was going to die at the hands of this...woman. Tears welled in his eyes, where was his Godliness now. "I told you not to make death come to you. Your power is going to go back to the demon it came from, Jonas." Star said and looked into the breathing dead man's eyes. He whimpered and hot urine ran down his khaki pants leg. Star's eyes softened only marginally. "For the death's of several prostitutes for sacrifice. For the theft of supplies from the local church, for being a false prophet, your sentence is death." And with that Star pulled the trigger. The bullet buried it's way through Jonas's skull. His last memory being the evil woman looking into his eyes, pressing herself against his holy body...Harlot. His head split open, splattering his banner at the back of the dais with blood and bone fragments. She let his lifeless body slump to the floor. She felt the hunger well up in her at the sight or Jonas's blood, but she would not partake of his foul blood, after it being poisoned by demon magic. She would just have to sate her hunger at "Dark Waters". Her job tonight was done. "Wolf...call the Clan and get a clean up crew in here." She looked at her team. "Were done here. Let's go home."