Post by Justin Kaard on Aug 8, 2016 21:36:02 GMT -5
Justin crashed down the alley and around a tight corner. This had been his reoccurring nightmare, his first encounter with a shifter. From somewhere down the alley, the creature’s scream ripped through the serene night air reminding him that this was no dream. It was chaos ahead of him. As the scream faded into the night it was replaced with the sounds of battle. Claws clashed against metal and flesh.
Justin slid around corner the and narrowly avoided the dumpster that was crashing towards him. He was prepared for this, he’d trained for this, he was ready for this! Oh god, he wasn’t ready. Who could be? No amount of preparation prepared a person’s higher rational mind for the sight of monsters. As far as Justin’s highly advanced mammal brain was concerned, the whatever-the-hell it was laying on the alley floor couldn’t possibly exist.
It certainly wasn’t eight feet tall, that was a trick of the light and the fact that it had been sliced across the belly with razor precision. The extra length surely came from the glistening ropey gore that spilled out next to it. It’s abnormally long fingers that ended in wicked, blood smeared claws grasped reflexively as it lay dying.
“It’s just a dream. Just a dream, just a dream, just a dream,” Justin hyperventilated.
James stepped out of the shadows and put his hand on the younger man’s shoulder, causing him to jump and stare at his mentor with a mixture of betrayal and confusion. James pressed a sword into his hand and nodded.
Justin looked from the sword to the creature before him.
“This is it, this is how it dies,” he thought.
*******************************
Justin leaned back into his chair as the last rays of the warm South Carolina sun started to sink beyond the horizon. It was the first time in a long time he’d had a day to himself with nothing to occupy his time. No promotional work for Pure Class Wrestling, no matches, and no training to hunt monsters. To anyone else that last one sounded like a joke. Hell, it sounded like a joke to Justin and he’d seen enough truly terrible things in the last six months for several life times. It was only going to get worse.
Justin had been introduced to James Keenan and his partner/bodyguard Richard no-last-name-required about half a year ago. He’d offered Justin the chance to train to fight real honest to goodness monsters and make a difference in the world. All it would cost him was everything. Justin of course had made the rational adult decision and laughed all the way out of the door. Then one of the monsters he’d been laughing about tried to kill him. Justin still wasn’t entirely sure how he’d been saved that night. He’d been dead to rights when James had appeared seemingly out of thin air and cut the creature down.
That had been six months ago. Six months of running a secret life in the shadows alongside his life in the light. His public life had certainly been an emotional rollercoaster. It was his second run with the PCW World Championship belt and it had been, to put it kindly, disappointing. Not the actual act of winning the title mind you; no that had been one of the highlights of his career.
What had been disappointing was that there’d been no time to celebrate his win. No time to take it in and savor it. He’d started training immediately and his performance in the ring had suffered for it. Justin had been bolstered by his own ego and believed, despite his shortcomings, that he was invincible. It was a notion that Grimm had thoroughly disabused him of when they met for the rematch.
A three count, some pretty, pretty lights and Grimm had back what was his, what he felt should have been his the entire time. All the while, Justin continued to train relentlessly. Not for the monsters in the ring, but for the monsters that watched from the shadows. Through some twist of fate, or rather through some bullet point in his contract, Justin found out he was also going to be given a rematch. The head office had made it clear that this was going to be his last match with Grimm for a good long while, regardless of the outcome. And no where had it been announced louder than on the card itself. The fourth match was a number one contender’s match between Murdoc and Dan Fierce.
So yeah, message received loud and clear. Win and you face someone else, lose and who knows how long it will be before you see the title again. Maybe losing wouldn’t be the worst thing ever. The title seemed to be his personal Lemarchand’s box; beautiful to behold, and thrilling to chase. But solving it unleashed his own personal hell beast, Phinehas Grimm.
Twice now he’d held the title and twice now Grimm had been the one to take it away. The first time he’d nearly ended Justin’s career, he had certainly broken his spirit. The second time sent Justin into that same broken spiral. He’d been consumed with the thought of Grimm, of winning back the world title. Both his lives had suffered because of that obsession. Justin was fairly sure he hadn’t won a match since just before losing the title and his relationship with James had become strained after Justin had let loose a harsh accusation. He’d accused his mentor, a former PCW wrestler himself, of being a washed up has-been who was trying to live vicariously through his new student. The conversation had not ended well.
It was all because of Grimm. His loss of face in the company, losing the title, his strained relationship with James, hell, Justin was willing to bet that Grimm had played a hand in Eric leaving too. It was all his fault.
Justin shook his head sharply, ‘No! No, no no no no no no no.’
He tried to clear his mind. That was the kind of obsessive thinking that had caused this spiral. Grimm may have been the catalyst, but he held no power over Justin. He hadn’t made him lose focus or lash out at a man he deeply respected, and he had certainly had no part in Eric’s decision to leave.
A sudden knock on the door snapped Justin out of his contemplativeness. Six months ago it would have startled him and he probably would have tripped over himself to answer it. Justin undid the many heavy locks and opened the door; James was on the other side. He was dressed for a fight.
“Get dressed,” he commanded,” we’re going hunting.”
Justin knew better than to argue. He went into his room and changed into a pair of heavy boots, black tactical pants, and a black shirt.
“Okay, now that I’m dressed like a bank robber will you tell me what’s going on?” Justin quipped.
“I told you, we’re going hunting.”
Justin sighed as he locked the door behind them. “I got that much. But last I knew you told me I wasn’t ready for the field. So unless we’re going out hunting wascally wabbits I’m really not sure what we’re doing.”
James nodded, “You’re not ready for the field. But you’re not going in as a hunter, just as an observer. There’s only so much I can teach you in a closed setting. Richard found a nest and was able to contain them but one got away. We’re going after that one before it can hurt somebody and disappear.”
Justin would have to be satisfied with the answer. He had a million other questions he wanted to ask, like where were they going? How did they find the nest? These things nested? A million questions but something in the determined set of James’ face convinced Justin that now wasn’t the right time. James seemed to navigate on intuition as they drove out of Greenville and towards Columbia, and in no time at all, the car stopped.
“It’s here.”
Justin looked through the window at the decrepit alley, “How can you tell?” He was unnerved enough at the thought of encountering a nest of shifters. The fact that they apparently made their nests in heavily populated areas was downright terrifying.
“It’s a feeling. You’ll learn to sense it eventually, a feeling of wrongness in the air. That’s the best way I can describe it.”
“That’s not a very good description.”
James ignored the sarcasm, “I’m going to go in first. Give me five minutes and then come in after me. It should be safe by then.”
“And if it’s not safe by then?”
James just shrugged, “Then I’m probably dead.”
He took off down the alley before Justin could respond. He hadn’t been gone more than a minute when the first scream split the night sky.
*******************************
“This is it, this is how it dies,” he thought.
Justin thrust the sword down through its skull, delivering the killing blow. The creature’s body spasmed and danced a macabre jig as it died. He was suddenly exhausted. He stumbled back until his back met the wall and he collapsed. It was all he could do to keep the meager contents of his stomach from coming up.
Justin knelt down next to him, “I told you when we first met, Justin, that I saw greatness in you. But there’s always a grim price to pay for greatness.”
It was a strange scene, two men and a monstrous corpse in a forgotten back alleyway. Nobody noticed the forth figure staring at them from above.
Justin slid around corner the and narrowly avoided the dumpster that was crashing towards him. He was prepared for this, he’d trained for this, he was ready for this! Oh god, he wasn’t ready. Who could be? No amount of preparation prepared a person’s higher rational mind for the sight of monsters. As far as Justin’s highly advanced mammal brain was concerned, the whatever-the-hell it was laying on the alley floor couldn’t possibly exist.
It certainly wasn’t eight feet tall, that was a trick of the light and the fact that it had been sliced across the belly with razor precision. The extra length surely came from the glistening ropey gore that spilled out next to it. It’s abnormally long fingers that ended in wicked, blood smeared claws grasped reflexively as it lay dying.
“It’s just a dream. Just a dream, just a dream, just a dream,” Justin hyperventilated.
James stepped out of the shadows and put his hand on the younger man’s shoulder, causing him to jump and stare at his mentor with a mixture of betrayal and confusion. James pressed a sword into his hand and nodded.
Justin looked from the sword to the creature before him.
“This is it, this is how it dies,” he thought.
*******************************
Justin leaned back into his chair as the last rays of the warm South Carolina sun started to sink beyond the horizon. It was the first time in a long time he’d had a day to himself with nothing to occupy his time. No promotional work for Pure Class Wrestling, no matches, and no training to hunt monsters. To anyone else that last one sounded like a joke. Hell, it sounded like a joke to Justin and he’d seen enough truly terrible things in the last six months for several life times. It was only going to get worse.
Justin had been introduced to James Keenan and his partner/bodyguard Richard no-last-name-required about half a year ago. He’d offered Justin the chance to train to fight real honest to goodness monsters and make a difference in the world. All it would cost him was everything. Justin of course had made the rational adult decision and laughed all the way out of the door. Then one of the monsters he’d been laughing about tried to kill him. Justin still wasn’t entirely sure how he’d been saved that night. He’d been dead to rights when James had appeared seemingly out of thin air and cut the creature down.
That had been six months ago. Six months of running a secret life in the shadows alongside his life in the light. His public life had certainly been an emotional rollercoaster. It was his second run with the PCW World Championship belt and it had been, to put it kindly, disappointing. Not the actual act of winning the title mind you; no that had been one of the highlights of his career.
What had been disappointing was that there’d been no time to celebrate his win. No time to take it in and savor it. He’d started training immediately and his performance in the ring had suffered for it. Justin had been bolstered by his own ego and believed, despite his shortcomings, that he was invincible. It was a notion that Grimm had thoroughly disabused him of when they met for the rematch.
A three count, some pretty, pretty lights and Grimm had back what was his, what he felt should have been his the entire time. All the while, Justin continued to train relentlessly. Not for the monsters in the ring, but for the monsters that watched from the shadows. Through some twist of fate, or rather through some bullet point in his contract, Justin found out he was also going to be given a rematch. The head office had made it clear that this was going to be his last match with Grimm for a good long while, regardless of the outcome. And no where had it been announced louder than on the card itself. The fourth match was a number one contender’s match between Murdoc and Dan Fierce.
So yeah, message received loud and clear. Win and you face someone else, lose and who knows how long it will be before you see the title again. Maybe losing wouldn’t be the worst thing ever. The title seemed to be his personal Lemarchand’s box; beautiful to behold, and thrilling to chase. But solving it unleashed his own personal hell beast, Phinehas Grimm.
Twice now he’d held the title and twice now Grimm had been the one to take it away. The first time he’d nearly ended Justin’s career, he had certainly broken his spirit. The second time sent Justin into that same broken spiral. He’d been consumed with the thought of Grimm, of winning back the world title. Both his lives had suffered because of that obsession. Justin was fairly sure he hadn’t won a match since just before losing the title and his relationship with James had become strained after Justin had let loose a harsh accusation. He’d accused his mentor, a former PCW wrestler himself, of being a washed up has-been who was trying to live vicariously through his new student. The conversation had not ended well.
It was all because of Grimm. His loss of face in the company, losing the title, his strained relationship with James, hell, Justin was willing to bet that Grimm had played a hand in Eric leaving too. It was all his fault.
Justin shook his head sharply, ‘No! No, no no no no no no no.’
He tried to clear his mind. That was the kind of obsessive thinking that had caused this spiral. Grimm may have been the catalyst, but he held no power over Justin. He hadn’t made him lose focus or lash out at a man he deeply respected, and he had certainly had no part in Eric’s decision to leave.
A sudden knock on the door snapped Justin out of his contemplativeness. Six months ago it would have startled him and he probably would have tripped over himself to answer it. Justin undid the many heavy locks and opened the door; James was on the other side. He was dressed for a fight.
“Get dressed,” he commanded,” we’re going hunting.”
Justin knew better than to argue. He went into his room and changed into a pair of heavy boots, black tactical pants, and a black shirt.
“Okay, now that I’m dressed like a bank robber will you tell me what’s going on?” Justin quipped.
“I told you, we’re going hunting.”
Justin sighed as he locked the door behind them. “I got that much. But last I knew you told me I wasn’t ready for the field. So unless we’re going out hunting wascally wabbits I’m really not sure what we’re doing.”
James nodded, “You’re not ready for the field. But you’re not going in as a hunter, just as an observer. There’s only so much I can teach you in a closed setting. Richard found a nest and was able to contain them but one got away. We’re going after that one before it can hurt somebody and disappear.”
Justin would have to be satisfied with the answer. He had a million other questions he wanted to ask, like where were they going? How did they find the nest? These things nested? A million questions but something in the determined set of James’ face convinced Justin that now wasn’t the right time. James seemed to navigate on intuition as they drove out of Greenville and towards Columbia, and in no time at all, the car stopped.
“It’s here.”
Justin looked through the window at the decrepit alley, “How can you tell?” He was unnerved enough at the thought of encountering a nest of shifters. The fact that they apparently made their nests in heavily populated areas was downright terrifying.
“It’s a feeling. You’ll learn to sense it eventually, a feeling of wrongness in the air. That’s the best way I can describe it.”
“That’s not a very good description.”
James ignored the sarcasm, “I’m going to go in first. Give me five minutes and then come in after me. It should be safe by then.”
“And if it’s not safe by then?”
James just shrugged, “Then I’m probably dead.”
He took off down the alley before Justin could respond. He hadn’t been gone more than a minute when the first scream split the night sky.
*******************************
“This is it, this is how it dies,” he thought.
Justin thrust the sword down through its skull, delivering the killing blow. The creature’s body spasmed and danced a macabre jig as it died. He was suddenly exhausted. He stumbled back until his back met the wall and he collapsed. It was all he could do to keep the meager contents of his stomach from coming up.
Justin knelt down next to him, “I told you when we first met, Justin, that I saw greatness in you. But there’s always a grim price to pay for greatness.”
It was a strange scene, two men and a monstrous corpse in a forgotten back alleyway. Nobody noticed the forth figure staring at them from above.
