by Fox Lancet
5
Around Town
Hunter stalked up the stairs, a white box tucked under his muscular arm. His chunky boots clomped dully on each concrete step. The stairwell was dimly lit and cold between stone walls. Currently his hair was shaved high up on his head, a long black patch thrust forward, falling over his forehead and dangling thinly in front of obsidian eyes shining with their usual mischief. A smirk was caught on his mouth.
After he conquered the staircase and entered an open second story room with support beams and no separating walls, he looked around to locate Syler. Large windows dominated the outer walls, impossible to look through as they were coated in a lifetime of dust and grime. One smaller wall was devoid of an oversized window and was mounted from top to bottom and side to side with automatic rifles, shotguns, snipers, and handguns. The floor at the base of the collection was littered with ammo boxes and crates of upgrades, and more ready-to-be-clipped rounds.
On the opposite wall, Syler sat back casually in a wheeled desk chair. His booted feet were propped comfortably on the desk that was pushed up against one of the windowed walls. He wore ragged blue jeans and a black hooded sweater with a zipper seaming the center. Decorated by a chain necklace with two flat tags, his chest was revealed where the zipper stopped mid-torso. His massive wallet chain hung rigidly from his waist, nearly brushing the concrete floor. Unlike Hunter, he had not cut his hair since their arrival. The black stringy mass had grown two inches and his skin was a shade lighter than Hunter’s due to lack of sunlight. He was more often than not found shut up in the abandoned warehouse, on the constant search for information while Hunter scoured the streets for experience and a possible encounter with the key.
“Syler,” Hunter said.
At the moment, Syler was skillfully navigating a computer mouse, linking page to page on the glowing screen. Piles of newspapers and magazines tilted and cascaded in tumultuous towers on and around his desk. He turned in his chair without removing his feet and looked over his shoulder to eye Hunter.
“Yes?” He looked Hunter up and down, the bright glare from the giant windows reflected off the black marbles of his eyes. Hunter approached him nonchalantly.
“I have acquired something of interest.” He stopped two feet short of Syler’s seated form. Syler looked up at his cohort and cocked a black brow.
“You have punctured your face again.” He observed two small silver balls on either of Hunter’s cheeks in addition to the two black metallic rings resting on either side of his full bottom lip that he had from prior outings. He also had a metallic spike coming off the top of both his ears through the cartilage. Hunter smiled shamelessly and bowed his head once.
“I did. However, that is insignificant to what I have here.” He pulled the white cardboard box out from under his arm. It had grey and green print all about it. “It is a virtual training device of some kind. It instructs humans how to kill with different methods and weapons through multiple settings portrayed on the television.” He set it down on one of Syler’s precarious magazine stacks and went for the television sitting idle a few feet from Syler’s niche.
“Sounds similar to a gaming platform; I have read briefly about those. They are more of a form of entertainment than a learning tool from what I understand of their purpose. Though some of them are used to train their inferior soldiers, so I have also read.” Syler watched Hunter without interest.
“Whatever its purpose, it is fucking entertaining!” Hunter leaned from his kneeling position on the floor to snatch up the white box. The stack of magazines threatened to topple before Syler swiftly steadied them with a foot, the rest of his body remaining still during the action. “It seems to me that they are perhaps intentionally or unintentionally instructing part of the population in warfare and survival.”
“Perhaps.” Syler dropped his boots from the desk and swiveled his chair so he was facing the computer again.
“Regardless, Syler, you should try it for yourself. You may enjoy it. We can control it simultaneously.”
“Fine. I am weary of this computer anyway.” He pushed himself from the desk and stood, stretching his arms over his head.
“In that case, you should accompany me on an outing once that wretched sun sets.” He plugged in one last cable and pressed a circular button on the front of the black gaming platform. It blinked green and the television lit up with all the company’s colors.
“That actually sounds quite appealing. I could go for spilling some blood.” He watched the screen aimlessly. “You could introduce me to that place you mentioned where females dance around nude while unkempt men throw money at them.”
“Ha, yes, the gentlemen’s club. It would be an ideal place to kill people.” Hunter’s eyes were fixed on the television while he maneuvered the main screen of the gaming platform with a wireless controller before they were able to begin. “Did you not mention encountering something similar on the internet that you have been scanning?” He hesitated on the word ‘internet.’ He smiled proudly when the main screen faded and a loud “womp” echoed through the speakers accompanied by a shield with the title “EPIC GAMES” thrusting itself onto the screen across a black and red background. The screen cut to another company logo before coming to rest on a picturesque inferno with a red human skull centered in a red sprocket bouncing around in the background. In the center of the screen it read: “GEARS OF WAR”.
“Yes, it is called pornography. It is vile; you would love it.” Hunter laughed shortly at Syler’s assertion. “Humans are disgusting,” Syler added.
“Then you will enjoy this video game.” Hunter pushed himself back off his knees and sat on the cold concrete with his arms propped on his bent knees, the controller suspended in his hands between his legs. “Sit, grab a controller.” He nodded his chin toward the white box. “It is called Gears of War. A human world is invaded by creatures they did not know dwelled in the ground beneath them. The creatures have been deemed Locusts and are bent on human extermination.”
“Do we play as the human-killing Locusts?” Syler inquired as he joined Hunter on the floor.
“We can, and you want to know the best part?” He did not wait for Syler’s answer. “We can play online, like your internet. Other people across this world can tap in and fight you with their little drones. So when you kill their character, it is like shitting on their honor.” Hunter half laughed, an enormous grin marring his face. Syler lifted a brow at Hunter’s enthusiasm.
“Shitting?” Syler wondered at the use of the word. “Is that not one of their derogatory terms for defecating?” This sent Hunter into a roar of laughter. A literal roar, for the two still held deep voices that often turned guttural in their absolute passions, whether joy or anger. He let his head drop back while he released the laugh. Syler glared at him. “I do not understand why you find this so amusing?”
After Hunter caught his breath he shook his head, still smiling. “Your serious and insistent use of exact definitions and wording does not always coincide with this world’s expressions. For example: when you kill their character, it is like defecating on their honor.” He sniggered during his example and lifted both his brows at Syler. “You see?”
“Well, it means exactly the same thing. I still do not see why you find that version any different than your own.”
Hunter stopped smiling and sighed.
“Profanity in this world holds a much stronger meaning than the actual definitions, Syler. That is why I find your incessant exactness to be trivial at times. For instance, supposedly the most offensive expletive to these people is the word ‘fuck.’ You heard me use it earlier and you did not question it then. Why not?”
Syler pondered the question. He shrugged slightly.
“You use it quite often and I have grown accustomed to it not meaning ‘fornication under consent of the king,’ but it has evolved into an adaptable adjective that can be used anywhere to emphasize a statement.”
Hunter smiled. “Was that so difficu
lt? That is generally the purpose of all the profane words in their vocabulary. Or in the case of my use of the word ‘shit,’ it also portrays an insulting image as well as emphasizing the insult.”
Syler nodded. “I believe I am beginning to understand.”
“Regardless, Syler, I believe you should make a point to come out with me more often. You have spent more than enough time learning basics and much more of their societies; you should experience it. You should begin applying your copious amounts of knowledge to the actual world.”
“FUCK!” Syler shouted two hours later and stood furiously. He turned and chucked the controller in his hand through one of the oversized windows nearby. The pane it crashed through broke like thin, white paper. Syler’s eyes gleamed red and he growled low.
Hunter stood up, set his controller on top of the television and shut off all of the equipment. He remained silent, grinning to himself as Syler seethed. “That is a poor version of any reality” he growled, pacing. Hunter shrugged.
“Well, you were by far the best player. You have to sacrifice yourself on occasion for the amount of kills you had. The boy who introduced me to the game claimed that it is a ‘very connection based game’. Not sure I understood him entirely, but I assume it has to do with the way the players are capable of meeting in the game.”
Syler shot a glance at him.
“Yes, that is what he meant.” He took a sharp breath with his eyes shut. When he opened them again, they had returned to their black voids. “It was entertaining to tear asunder humans, even though it was not real.” He could not help the half-smile that appeared on his face.
“I assumed you would appreciate that concept,” Hunter replied. “Would you still like to come out with me tonight?”
Syler nodded and headed toward the stairs.
“I am going to retrieve some cash. I will meet you out by the street. Would you like to carry a firearm?” Hunter asked as he walked toward his gun wall. Syler was standing in the entrance of the stairwell; he leaned on its edge and shrugged.
“I guess I would not mind. You may choose one for me. I trust your judgment.” Hunter smiled and nodded once before Syler disappeared into the now black stairwell.
Syler faced the street, casually rocking his lean body back and forth on the cement sidewalk while he waited for Hunter to join him. He had his senses spread out: listening, feeling. A black alley loomed behind him easily housing many ominous things. At the moment, he did feel something strongly, but he did not turn to look as not to alert it that he was aware of its presence. He continued to rock restlessly in his boots.
The cautious entity coddling in the shadows surged a second later. Syler instantly spun around to catch his would-be attacker by the throat with his preternatural strength. The creature gagged.
“What. Is. This?” he growled down into the pasty face of what looked human but he could clearly discern was not. Scowling at it, he allowed the red in his eyes to glow gently. The creature grimaced, revealing shortened fangs. Syler cocked his head thoughtfully.
“I am Vampire. And you are a threat.” The creature choked past the vise on his throat while also struggling on tip-toes.
“Vampire? Those creatures humans disregard as fictitious?” A smile formed.
“Yes,” the Vampire growled. “We are the unknown predator.”
“You hide! From feeble creatures that are your sustenance!” Syler almost laughed. The Vampire seemed surprised, though the features quickly molded into disapproval, its lip quivering in anger.
“It is the best way we have ever found.”
Suddenly there was an interrupting roar, and Syler realized too late that Hunter had emerged and immediately gone on the offense, as usual. He lunged at the Vampire in Syler’s clutches, ripping him free and landing on him in the empty back street.
“Hunter!” Syler bellowed, but it was already done. Hunter was tearing its head from its neck. With one foot braced on its shoulder, he pulled. The tendons attached to the jaw popped and muscles snapped at the force. He stopped short of severing the spine and stood over the bloody mess. The warm liquid covered his hands and was splattered across his face and shirt. His gaze fell on Syler who stood disconcerted on the curb, shaking his head. Hunter’s eyes were on fire, the red nearly overtaking all of the black, and a corner smile pushed up one of his cheeks.
“The scene felt tense and it looked like he was giving you trouble. It has been too long since bloodshed, I saw an opportunity.” Hunter defended his actions as he towered over the mutilated Vampire. It gurgled and Hunter scowled down in disbelief. Syler smiled.
“Well, in this case you will have to finish decapitating him or he will heal and reanimate.” Hunter shot him a skeptical look.
“What do you mean?” he growled, irritated.
“Hunter, you really need to attune your senses and quit being so savage,” Syler stated as he stepped into the street. “He is Vampire. He feeds on human blood and hides in shadow. There are select ways to truly put one to rest. You are halfway there with one method. The others are flame into ashes and a wooden stake through the heart. Though I assume any weapon through their heart would work just as well.” Syler stuck the toe of his boot in the Vampire’s ribs and nudged it hard. It gurgled and squirmed. He laughed “I would have appreciated conversing with him further, but I guess enough is already known of Vampires; all I would have done is ridiculed the ways of his shameful species.” At that, he stomped on the remaining connections of the Vampire’s neck then grabbed the head in two hands and plucked it with great effort, tearing the remaining bones and ligaments apart.
The carcass melted into a pool of blood that leaked into the street gutter. Syler tossed the head after the liquid and it dissolved in the same manner.
“Well, that was informative.” Syler eyed the blood on his hands then surveyed Hunter, who smiled broadly, aware of his current blood-splattered appearance. Both their eyes had reverted to their glossy black. “Let us go clean up so we do not draw any negative attention.” Hunter nodded once and they returned to the warehouse.
“I wish to find another.” Syler stepped from the warehouse in a fresh shirt with hands clean. His gaze meandered between the tall buildings standing in the night.
“For what reason? That creature seemed useless and weak.” Hunter squirmed in his changed clothes, attempting to adjust them comfortably on his form.
“That he was. But he was not human in human form, similar to us. Human stories can only tell me so much before the truth becomes blurred, as they are regarded as mythical.” Syler and Hunter began to stroll casually down the sidewalk toward the nearest main street: Broadway.
“Why do you suppose they hide if they are anything like what stories claim them to be?” Hunter inquired.
“They have many ailments that are obvious and widely known by their prey. If they did not hide, they could face extermination. It seems their numbers are not many compared to that of their prey. Perhaps it is more intelligent of them to hide.” The conversation slid into silence and Syler’s eyes wandered to the sky above.
Hunter and Syler had been pleased to see the stars their first night in the new world, though the patterns were subtly different than the ones canvassing their own world, Trissana. The unnatural light beaming up from the surrounding city quelled the stars the farther one was from the mountains. The street they walked was dark; however, when they breached the entrance onto Broadway, the darkness was sucked away. Headlights, streetlights, and shop lights infiltrated the night, partially making up for the absence of sunlight. Cars rolled by steadily on this street, as opposed to the previous vacant one, and the signs of life were plentiful. Every couple of blocks, a rambling human in dirty garb, reeking of the unmistakable aroma of alcohol, would approach the pair. Both Demons were reminded of the Slecktics from their former world at every encounter of unkempt humans who occupied the streets as living quarters.
“The fact that this race allows this kind of filth to wander about freely,
and unchecked is disturbing,” Syler admonished between clenched teeth as another grimy human reached a sullied palm in their direction.
“If they will not do anything about it, perhaps they will not mind if I lend a hand in disposing of the garbage,” Hunter responded as he stepped toward the man. In a disguised move, he let his left hand hover above the man’s open palm as if he were dropping money into it, but with his other he slid a concealed dagger into the man’s neck quickly and carefully. Removing it just as smoothly, he casually stepped away. They covered another two feet of sidewalk before the man’s body dropped back onto his collection of swollen plastic bags.
Syler glanced briefly at Hunter from his peripheral vision without a pause in his gait. “Is that a wise idea, my friend?”
Hunter had already cleaned the dagger on the side of his black shirt and slid it back into the scabbard on his belt.
“I do not see why not I have killed many dozen in the same manner and no one has yet to turn a head or say a word.” The two nonchalantly approached a bright building in the midst of the orange street lights and yellow car headlights. “Do not concern yourself with me out here, Syler. I have been out much more than you and know what I can get away with and what I cannot. I will have to take you on one of my favorite outings, though it must be done during daylight hours and only after a good amount of days have passed since the last occasion. It amuses me immensely. You may love it or you may hate it; it is extremely dangerous. It draws a grand amount of attention and has severe consequences if I were to be caught.”
The pair slowed as they came under a marquee bordered in bright, blinking lights. There were several people wandering outside of the entrance doors: some in yellow jackets and some wearing all black.
“That does not sound exceedingly enthralling, Hunter. Though it sounds like your usual choice of pastime,” Syler replied.
“Pastime?” Hunter inquired, not looking at Syler, who waved off the question. Hunter did not pursue his mild curiosity.