Snippet #2366070

It stings...

The Slayer was frozen in stance, hands above her head, muscles primed for action—but she didn't move.

Someone had attacked her... landed a hit on her... and her face stung. This Slayer has a very high tolerance for pain. She wouldn't even pretend to notice most normal attacks that hit her: from bullet wounds to a good knifing, but this...

She brought one of her hands down from over to head to her cheek ever so slowly. The hand was shaking.

Pain...?

She brought the same hand to the center of her face, so she could look at it.

The Slayer's eyes grew wide like saucers as she grimaced, hand shaking even more.

Blood. Viscous. Red. Essence. Blood.

Emotions were playing across her face like a mass of race cars crossing the finish line, each trying to overtake the other.

Heat... like bathing in the light of the sun... The Slayer remembered the feeling on her fist. The feeling when she thought she smashed the human's skull. It was the same feeling—although this one was accompanied by pain. The human... she... they cheated!

A low sound began emanating from her throat. Quiet at first, but, as she stared at her hand, it grew in intensity. It was the sound of a wounded animal, confused as to why it was feeling this way.

She brought her hand back to her cheek, trying to wipe the blood from her face. The stinging sensation only increased with her actions, as did the sound of her whining.

The Slayer placed both of her trembling hands on her face, covering her cheeks. She took an uncertain step backwards, the rising crescendo of her whine turning into a low-pitched tortured screech. She then clawed at the collar of her overcoat like a rabid animal until the thing detached itself from her, smashing into the floor and shaking the entire complex with a miniature earthquake.

The overcoat had embedded itself about a quarter of the way into the floor. It was extremely heavy.

The Slayer kept taking slow steps backwards, her screech growing louder with each footfall. Eventually, it became an outright scream—one of pain and anger.

She clenched her shaking hands into fists and gritted her teeth as the air around her literally glowed red with her fury, her shadow expanding to unnatural proportions.

And then, suddenly, she dropped onto the floor, on all fours, still screaming, but something new was happening. Her muscles bulged like balloons, tearing her military fatigues to shreds in an instant. Blackness spread through her skin like a thick ink being poured into a glass of water, completely corrupting it. From there, what looked like scales began to form, concentrated at her shins and forearms, jutting out like spikes. The pitch of the Slayer's blood curdling scream was dropping by the second until it reached a booming contralto that shook the very air itself. Her fingers and toes elongated, with large gruesome claws pushing their way through her fingernails. Slowly she sprouted three tails, each adorned with different murderous appendages. One ended in a very fine point. Another ended in more tails, each sporting large curved spikes. The final was covered in some sort of gelatinous green mucus that seemed to be melting the floor beneath it. The Slayer's elbows elongated into large arciform peaks that, themselves, turned into thick long masses of cordage. All five whip-like appendages flung themselves around in a mad spasmodic frenzy, shredding through the air and lashing at the ground, leaving large gashes.

Her red hair elongated as well, covering her head and neck like a mane, down to her shoulders and chest. Her face stretched forward, eyes sinking into her head, pupils forming into slits, nose receding and restructuring itself... all to make room for her massive mouth, which was growing and shaping itself out of her face, like some sort of self-aware play-doh.

By this point, her scream had turned into a full bellied and thunderous clamor, like continual explosions. Dust and pieces of mortar were coming loose from the ceiling and falling to the ground.

The room itself smelled of death. It certainly felt like death.

The very sight of the behemoth forcing its way into existence has been the cause of the retreat of entire armies. This is the monster that single-handedly decimated an entire platoon of elite anti-Slayer demons. The form that allowed this Slayer to receive the title of "Divine Nine" from Alera Elma. The monstrous abomination against nature that earned recognition as one of the three most powerful Slayers in the history of Slayers.

The undefeatable beast of legend.

A god of nightmares.

But things were about to get much more complicated.

Along with the miasma of unadulterated evil that radiated from this beast, something else began to pervade the air. A new feeling.

Not of evil, exactly. Not of loathing. Not of hate.

This was...

Without warning, the beast went silent, its beady red eyes going wide, cat-like pupils focusing in on the Elf. Its tails swished menacingly in the air. The transformation was not complete. Only the upper half of the Slayer's humanoid body was fully transformed. Her legs were still reconfiguring themselves, but the beast was impatient. It wanted its kill now!

To everyone's surprise, the monster spoke a single garbled word in what could only be assumed to be English. One simple word: PREY.

The monster leaned backwards, preparing to pounce, its mouth open, displaying multiple rows of long sharp teeth.

...

But it didn't move. In fact, it leaned forward again, eyes cast downward. It shook its head once. Twice. Three times, as if trying to clear something out of its ears.

The beast's transformation had stopped as well.

Who the hell?

The beast's immense presence filled the room like an offensively effervescent pressure, but there was another force at play here. A pressure of equal or even greater malice. The two forces seemed to do battle on an invisible plane, with the effect being a noticeable shift in burden—a sort of heaviness that descended upon the occupants of the room. A stress. A palpable tension between this half-transformed monster and some outside force.

Something...

That's when the beast fell to its knees, grabbing its head with its hands, back arched. It was so tall that its face almost came into contact with the elevated ceiling.

The transformation had more than just stopped, though, for the hideous monster began to shrink. It shrunk and shrunk until it regained the form of the female Slayer, naked, lying on her face.

With the overbearing presence of the monster gone, all that remained was that second force. That second source of feeling. The push that competed with and overtook the monster. That broke the female Slayer's concentration. It's transformation.

In the space between the Elf and the Demon, someone else leaned against the wall. He had been there the entire time, others had just failed to notice him.

He stepped off the wall, fully revealing himself. The Elf and Demon both turned on this new figure, this potential threat, but he did not really take notice of them. He only looked forward, and only at the naked woman lying face first on the ground.

The guy had a well-fitted black overcoat with the texture and consistency of leather. The back of this garb had the BLOOD insignia stamped on it. His hands, surrounded by tight black gloves, were in his pockets. His short black dreadlocks went in every which direction, extending no further than his ears. A few of the locks fell over the from of his mask, which looked like some sort of serial killer's face accessory.

This second Slayer stepped around the human to stand between the downed red-haired Slayer and the room's other occupants.

Entire minutes passed.

The Slayer just remained there, like a statue. He probably played statue quite a bit, because he didn't move a single inch. But even his patience has its limits.

"How long are you going to lie there like that, Depravity?" He spoke in a baritone, angling his pose slightly.

Apparently, Slayers are quite fond of striking poses.

The Slayer didn't look like she was even conscious, but she slapped the ground with the palms of her hands, proving she was still awake. It was a gesture of exasperation.

"Kin Killer." She spit the words, as if she had tasted spoiled milk. "I knew you were around here, hiding in the shadows like the cowardly pet you are. I knew it." She came up to her knees, bare chest exposed, but if she had any sense of decency or embarrassment about being naked in front of her enemies, it didn't show.

She got to her feet, idly brushing some dirt from her shoulder with the back of her hand. "You've gotten better, Gabe." She said his name as if they were really close friends. "Much much better compared to our last fight. Even I couldn't hear you. I scanned the room for you... multiple times. I couldn't even smell you!"

The Slayer—"Gabe"—did not respond. Depravity seemed to expect this, so she continued.

"I heard from on high: those MAVD Slayers we sent after you. Marid and Magni. You dealt them some serious blows, huh." She took several steps toward Gabe, but only to reach down and pull at the handlebar on the collar of her overcoat. "I knew those lesser Slayers wouldn't have been able to touch you. The fucking chosen Champion of BLOOD!" She pointed at him, mocking him. "It's because I'm the only one who gets to kill you." The familiar chorus of metal on metal filled the room for a moment before dying down. The overcoat had turned from rigid back to flexible, and she donned it, slowly buttoning up the front. "They should have just sent me to stop you instead."

She looked across at Gabriel. He didn't respond, nor did he move. She sighed, her face going calm.

"You know," she started, pulling at some tufts of bright red hair that had gotten stuck when she put on her overcoat. "I don't appreciate you interrupting my transformation like that. It was really rude." She struck her own pose. "How about this. You get the fuck out of my way and we can fight later. I just want to kill them. It has nothing to do with you."

For a second, Gabe neither moved nor spoke. Depravity tilted her head slightly. Then Gabe reached into his pocket. At that, the female Slayer tensed, but it was for naught. Gabe had a black letter in his hand, and held it up for Depravity to see.

"Oh fuck you," she said nonchalantly. "I have one of those too!" She pulled out the balled up letter she had read from earlier, holding it up, mirroring Gabe's posture.

For a moment they stood there in silence, glaring at each other from behind their masks.

Depravity broke the silence first. "My orders were to learn what the lesser beings know about Nix and then kill them. BLOOD does not need the help of other agencies. WE rule this world." She returned the wad of paper to her overcoat. "Step aside, Kin Killer."

Gabe stuffed his letter back into a pocket of his overcoat as well, although more delicately. He didn't want his getting balled up like hers. How unseemly.

"Depravity," he spoke. He didn't seem to like speaking very much. "There is no person that can supersede the orders of Alera Elma. We were ordered to—"

"I take my orders from MAVD. From Lithium." She hissed.

"And Lithium takes his orders from Alera Elma." He retorted, voice calm, but with a hint of disdain.

Depravity seemed to pout. "WELL THEN FUCK YOU!" She shouted, gritting her teeth. The pitch of her voice dropped a few octaves. "I can't believe Alera Elma would have us working with..." She pointed at the Demon. "BLAH! I can't believe this!" She stamped her foot. "You're going to side with that filth over there! You fight for THEM instead of US now?!"

Gabriel tensed not at her words, but at the tone in her voice. She was getting riled up.

For moments more, they just stared into each others faces, but it was Gabe who made the first move.

He brought both hands to his head—one holding the front of his mask while the other moved to unbuckle the strap that kept it in place over his face. With a click, the strap came loose, but he did not let the mask fall from its position. Not yet.

Depravity's eyes grew wide at this, and she took a step back, hands up. A gesture of surrender.

"Woah there, Kin." She smiled at him. "You know I'd love to smash your face in any day of the week." She punched her left palm with her right hand. "Unfortunately, I was expressly ordered by Lithium not to engage you." She looked genuinely disappointed. "At least, not yet. It's the only reason I stopped transforming."

Gabe stood motionless for a moment before re-buckling the straps of his mask. Seems he wouldn't be fighting her after all.

Satisfied, Depravity began walking in the direction of Gabe and the others, but she walked right past them without incident, heading for the hole that used to be a door. Sure, she could have left through the gaping hole in the building where that one wall used to be, but she wanted to ruffle Gabe's feathers first.

In the doorway she turned, pointing a crooked finger at the opposing Slayer. Gabe, for his part, didn't even turn around to acknowledge her. He remained motionless.

"Gabriel Morgan DeKnight." Her tone was neutral. "Kin Killer. Holy Lithium and MAVD officially declares war upon you. You, that bitch Alera Elma, and all these lesser beings." She made a circular gesture with her palm, referencing the others in the room. "All of them. MAVD declares war on all agencies."

She laughed, as if she had told herself something funny.

"This world is in chaos," she declared. "It will be Slayers who bring order. Bring rule. So decrees Holy Lithium!" Depravity used her free hand to punch a large hole in what remained of the doorhole, turning towards the others, her chin upturned, trademark sneer ripe upon her face.

"We will meet again," she uttered. "And at that time,—" Without moving her head, she leered at Gabriel from the corners of her eyes. "—I won't be stopped."

And at that, she left.