In my heart of hearts, I'd like to believe Black Hat didn't die at the end of the movie. But since this story takes place a few years before the movie, that point is moot. Thank you to Vikingbeauty, OkamiAMBU, GothicFaery94, Night-Weaver-369, Mythstar Black Dragon, Sheila, and RiverGoddess74 for your lovely reviews. I'm glad you enjoyed the story so far.
And now, on with the story!
The scent of rotting flesh, roasting in the sun. Her hand is against her nose before she realises she's even made a reaction. The smell is that strong. Sweat slicked skin is preferable, either way. Turning her hand slightly, she presses her knuckles and the backs of her fingers over her lips to hide the gasp as it tumbles free. The town is in ruins.
No. It's a grave yard without any of the respect usually given. Bodies lay scattered across the dirty walk ways- hanging from windows, leaning on posts. Most of them fell where they had been standing. No warning, then. And no infected. This...massacre had a clear purpose; to feed.
"Fuck." It is the second town in the past four days. No- was. The builds around her are devoid of life. It isn't a town, not any more. No survivors in the first attack, either. But the carnage had been contained to their houses. When she'd first stumbled onto it, she's thought that they'd just abandoned it. It wouldn't have been the first time- with a well drying up, or food scarce, they'd been known to pack up whole sectors and move on.
Then she'd found the first body. It had been a child, no more than five. She'd closed her eyes after murmuring an apologetic prayer.
But this town –Crest- something about it strikes her as different. Some death smells old here, two days at least. But others...they smell new. Like they died a few hours before sunrise, this morning. And the tracks left behind are over run by fresher ones. Dark brows draw together in a fierce frown as she puzzles out the scenarios, discarding many, then settles on the most likely.
She drops down to one knee, the fingers of one hand tracing over the closest clear mark in the dirt. They're traveling in more than one group, each one feeding once, then skipping ahead to cover more ground. It was the only idea that made sense. The first group must have the queen in it- the town, the way they had died, it was too coordinated. Snarling wordlessly, she shoves herself back up to her feet- hands patting the dust from her black robes.
They couldn't have gotten very far, before the sun rose. If she hurries, if she pushes her equipment to its limits, she should be able to kill the second group before dusk. And then she continues on. Even if the second group has a hundred soldiers in it, their deaths will make little difference if the Queen is still alive.
Turning on her heel, she nods firmly to herself. They will die for the Sins they have committed. She'll be certain they suffer long enough to understand that.
Mounting her bike, she allows herself one last look at the town- for motivation. Then she kicks it into gear, and leaves the town at full speed. As her mind fixes over the more detailed parts of her plan, her hand lingers on the small glass vile of her lost comrade. Tightening her fingers, she promised to bring him back.
Once the Queen was dead. Then they could go home together.
She shouldn't have been there. He'd been dead to them for five long months- why had she come? The church would have declared him an unfortunate casualty. No one was supposed to come back for his body- Priests had always assumed the dead were devoured, or infected.
So why had she been there?
His bare hand traced over the spot she'd touched, his other fist clenched tight against his thigh. The Queen- his Queen, had ordered him to stay behind and kill anyone who entered the Hive. To keep the Church from realizing that there was no longer an enemy in residence for them to pin down and eradicate. And he'd just let her walk out of there, with that oh so crucial information.
Growling in frustration, he snatched off his hand and dragged his hand through his hair. Turning in a small circle, his bright golden eyes leapt over the abandoned cavern. Then memory forced him to dart a look back at the table. Dull grey rock, brushed with dried blood- he could taste it in the air. Both his own, and the slight vampire taint of his Queen.
He should have just grabbed her. Killed her quickly- the only mercy he could offer her. She would never accept being changed like he had, or infected. Servitude didn't sit well with any of the Priesthood, himself included.
Placing his hat back on his head, he traced over the brown tattoo ideally. Following her was the only option. Sighing softly, he grit his teeth and shook his head. He would need to rid himself of this stupid compulsion to protect her. Priestess was his enemy now- he couldn't afford to be distracted by anything.
Even his oldest Comrade.
Growling curses into the open darkness around him, he stormed into the tunnel she'd entered, and went to dig out his old relic of a bike. Although he could cover the distance between then with his own two legs, it would expand more energy then he currently had at his disposal. And it would look suspicious.
"You should have come for me, Priestess. But not now." His words hung in the empty air, shaking the silent walls of their layers of dust. Only the sound of an electric engine scattered them, obliterating the last traces of his humanity. Only the Monster road out into the fading day. It was the only part of him that could be trusted to deal with the problem his fading human nature had allowed to happen.
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