"English."
Gregory glared at him for a second. "You're facetious."
"I said English."
"Never mind, here's something you'll be able to wrap your head around - the people who wrote those scriptures and left behind whatever else I happened to pick up, they're dead."
"Like Ned?"
Gregory paused, 'Is he ever serious?' "... yes, like Ned. They wrote it, they died, end of story for them."
"So what you're saying is, if I feel like fucking around with a bunch of sad sack, religiously clingy vampires who expect history to repeat itself, that's my choice if the plot twists end up being applied to their stack-o'-dimes necks."
"No, that's not what I was saying. You've got a cruel streak. I was thinking if the prophecy didn't fit, don't wear it..."
"I'm hardly gallavanting around dressed in the Dead Sea Scrolls."
Gregory ignored this and went on, "But, if neck snapping is your idea of rewriting history, so be it."
Tset lit a cigarette. "I was sort of thinking along that vein. What're the chances of dead scholars suing me for copyright infringement when I change up their scripts? And if they did, I can fuck up ignorant, self-absorbed intellectuals. I hate them anyway. Scourge of the Earth."
"Next to vampires."
Tset dragged on his cigarette heavily and looked evenly up at Gregory, "What do you think vampires are?"
Gregory's mouth opened to say something, but the joke hit him and he lost focus, unable to hold back his laughter and say another word.
Tset saluted the bellowing demon with his cigarette, scooped up his brandy and headed up a flight of stairs to his lavish bedroom.
Assault On Precinct Zero
Beasts Of The Moon
Two months later and Tset was finished training - mainly Gregory was running out of ideas in how to get his little pets to attack Tset and running out of the pets themselves.
Tset spent his time now memorizing The City - maps, exploration, renderings, blue prints, everything.
He knew the millions of street names almost by heart.
He knew almost all vampiric territories.
But one thing that kept bugging him - he, Tset, was unstoppable in his own estimation. To a degree.
In that he didn't postulate that his own death was possible even though he knew it was, but rather worked as though that postulation hadn't been set forth. Someone, including Gregory, viewing him exteriorly, would say he was suicide bent.
But at the same time, the prophecies he'd skimmed over and ignored stated he was to die by his own hand and this had been going on, seemingly unchecked, for eons.
'Or at least an hour.'
And Tset was annoyed by this - the odds of him versus a few thousand years of almost precise scientific result were an unknown.
So he fiddled with it mentally and it irritated him. Like a feeling of having forgotten something.
He thumped his gas tank with his gloved fist as he drove through an inner part of The City, "Aaah. What's so fucking Great about the Unknown anyway? Buncha bullshit."
Then his phone rang. He pulled it out of his jacket. "Hello."
It was Francois. He was upset. "Monsieur, I weesh I could bring you good news, but I need your 'elp. I don't know eef you can. Please."
"Yeah, nice to talk to you, too, what's wrong?"
"I don't know why I called to you. On second sought, jus' stay away, oui? For your own sakes, oui?" And then Francois hung up on Tset.
"What the fuck was that?"
Francois had sounded very upset. Very upset.
His phone vibrated again. He picked up. "Francois?"
"No. Tset. Something is wrong. Go to the address I just sent you - there's something there that shouldn't be... I wish I could explain, but, just be weary. Careful. This is big."
"Bigger than you?"
"No."
"Pah." Tset hung up on Gregory.
The building he was supposed to go to was a derelict office building only a mile and a half from where he was. He'd passed it earlier that day, but that had been hours ago and now the sun had set and the moon was in bloom. That was also where Francois' distress signal had come from. What did Gregory and Francois have in common?
The bike ticked. Tset looked up at the glassy edifice and checked himself: Papillion. Check. .45s. Check. Carbine. Check. .357. Check. 'Myself. Check.'
Tset wasn't about to go about his business unprepared. Reckless, sure. Packing heat under boiling point? Never.
Tset stepped through the revolving door, avoiding revolving it because it was shrieking with rust.
Inside, in the lobby, it was dark. He called Francois. Francois picked up but said nothing. "Francois?"
"..." Maybe a little breath on the phone in answer.
"I'm here."
A hissing whisper. "Keep eet down. I am below ze lobby. But Tset, I tell you to get out - zis is not a good idea."
"Tell me-"
"Got to go." Click.
"Dammit!" Then the floor shook below Tset. He heard something deep in the guts of the building howl and Tset's hair fought against his pomade to stand on end.
A bit of marble siding fell from the roof and clattered harmlessly somewhere away. He swallowed. He was not so sure now.
Regardless, the carbine as a safety blanket, Tset traveled down the stairs and into the basement.
He was extremely quiet with the stairwell doors - pressing against the bars gently until they slid open, instead of just banging into them and making that horrendously loud slamming sound they're prone to.
The basement was a very thin hallway, ahead Tset saw an expanded concourse. He moved for it, checking everything with the carbine, noticing a bestial and musty smell above the smell of industrial rot. Both ways were blank aside from the electrical and gas meters. He took a breath in the choking dust and mildew and moved again down the widened hallway. He took a corner, glancing through an open door into an office. Abandoned.
The hallway led into another and even wider T section. Tset checked both directions and took the right towards a large metal door.
The door was decrepit and rusted and recently had been severely jarred. Tset threw the carbine over his back and made to lift the door back up and pass into the next room.
"Psst!"
Tset was too nervous - before he registered what a 'psst' was, he was aiming his carbine to put a shot between Francois' eyes.
"What do you sink you're doing?" Francois was alarmed, his flashlight jittered. Behind Tset, on the other side of the door, something slid and something rumbled. Francois went white. "Eet's back!" This squeaked and Francois hid, his light blinking out.
The boom of the door being impacted by what may've been a VW Beetle sent Tset skittering down the hall. He couldn't find Francois at a glance so kept on moving.
The hallway cornered again but then continued on its path - the corner only a slight bend.
He pressed his back to the wall and listened. Another boom echoed in the dead space and Tset heard the metal door clatter sharply against the dusty linoleum.
Something snorted and sniffed and scraped. 'Bug demon?'
Tset peeked and gained a fierce idea of what sort of situation one would have to be in in order to soil their undergarments.
It was grey blue, huge and covered in thick fur.
Its head was canine, but not like Gregory's - this head was sharp and pointed and the ears were much larger and more erect.
The arms were as long as Gregory's but thin, ending in much more cruel hand claws.
The hind legs were long and thin as well.
Non-existent light reflected in the eyes of the thing as it swung its shaggy head from side to side, making the two searching orbs look as moons.
It pointed its nose into the air and sniffed.
Then it spoke and Tset felt terror go through him like an electrical charge. "I can smmmeeelllll yoooou..."
The thing took steps, and the walls shook. It was moving down the hall,
towards Tset.
He choked. His mind was paralyzed.
Distantly, Tset realized he could deal with anything man-sized or slightly bigger.
When it came to things like Gregory and just things like the one coming to taste him, Tset froze. Spiders also made him lose his nerve. Tset ignored that thought's irrelevance and bolted for a door.
He plowed through it and broke the lock, slamming it shut behind him. He ran as far as he could before he heard the wall cave behind him - then he hid slightly under a car - the door had been an exit and now he was outside on a backstreet.
'Cowering like a bitch.'
"I can still smeeellll you... and you smell... nice." The last word was bubbly and spit-laden.
Tset could feel its approach.
He climbed up and leaned against the back of the hatchback he was using as cover, weighing his options.
Hands-on was out of the question - too much reach on the opposite end. His carbine was far too small, though carrying a silver payload, whether this was the classically recognized argentaphobic creature of the night or not. In Tset's mind, he always thought of the things about horse-sized or slightly smaller - not that.
Tset checked his surroundings - there was a heavy weapons cache about a quarter mile from him in a safe house - but how to get to it?
'Run like a bitch.'
He jumped up and cleared the Civic in front of him, smashing the windshield, setting off the alarm and vaulting himself into the middle of the road. He spun and fired three precise shots as the beastly monster tore after him.
The shots slowed the creature, but only slightly. Tset was around the corner and a block down as it recovered.
He was sprinting hard and could hear its claws digging gouges out of the sidewalk and the road behind him as it came crazily on his path. It either clipped or plowed through a street light because Tset heard a metal screech and crash. It could also have thrown a car.
He took cover in a small side alley, hiding just barely.
The wolf beast careened by - eyes alight, tongue hanging out over glinting razor teeth, slobberous spittle leaving a trail behind it.
Tset darted out across the street behind it before it had time to realize its mistake. He shot it again as it turned - it had several wounds but didn't seem to care and the newest addition it treated like a joke. In Tset's speedy evaluation, they all seemed superficial - he'd creased it, but nothing more.
Tset heard the thing claw through the relatively thin alley he was speeding through - using the buildings on either side to jerk itself along. It was on top of him.
Tset pulled his .357 - this had stopping power - and was almost in a hug when he'd fired. His attacker had been closer than he'd anticipated and it could get quiet.
The .357 shot knocked it back no matter its bulk and Tset jumped as far as he could, literally throwing himself down his escape route.
He took a corner and the thing raged, starting to claw after him again.
Tset saw the door to the safe house, but bypassed it, going around back.
He irresponsibly smashed a neighbor's door in and then cut back to go in through a window of his safe house. He winced when he thought about the possible family next door being awoken by a two ton horror.
He just had to hope - the damage was done.
It followed the trail, heading right to the splintered door, passing the safe house by fifteen feet or more.
Inside the safe house he watched the thing through a window sniff for him while he collected his recoilless gun, then made for the roof.
Outside he fought the urge to light a cigarette but rather aimed his HE rocket at the door to the stairwell.
He waited, and listened, his ears keen to the wind. He was sweating and it was messing up his glasses, so he wiped them off and put them in his jacket pocket.
But... as he wiped, his tube in the crook of his elbow, there was something about the door Tset was getting a negative vibe from.
It looked like a normal door. So why did it upset him so? He actually felt an almost acute grief at its green-painted jamb. He threw the launcher back to his shoulder.
Then he realized.
It was a regular door. Near seven feet in height, three or maybe four feet wide. The monster wouldn't use the stairs.
'... the fucking stairs.' Tset thought and pulled Papillion, spinning with all his might, cleaving off two and a half silent, black clawed fingers. This got a howl and the beast teetered on the edge of the roof.
Tset kicked off of its face and shot it with the rocket launcher.
To be sure, it wasn't a silver rocket, but it was sabot. No one questioned sabot.
The heat was enough to make Tset think his gritted teeth were melting together, but it had the expected effect of knocking the wolf violently outward and to the square below where it burned and shook.
The kick followed by the explosion, on the other hand, had Tset sailing down the darkened stairwell after he'd broken in the steel door with his back.
On his roll down the stairwell, he lost a grip on the bazooka and Papillion but when he tumbled to the foyer and he stopped moving, he was able to stand.
He took a second, checking the rest of his equipment. Nothing was missing. Papillion was piercing a stair step so he pulled her, sooty and bloody, from the carpet and made for the front door.
Outside looked like someone was having a bonfire in the little square and even though the beast was half eaten by licking flames and still burned like a dry log, Tset was weary.
It snapped at him with the remaining bits of its jaw. Tset photographed it with his cell phone and texted Gregory with the photo attached.
What the fuck is this thing
??
-T1
He lit a cigarette while he waited and kicked the snout when it edged closer, still burning.
The text came back.
No time to explain.
Get here now.
Hal's got a problem.
-G
Tset scratched a furious itch on his face and closed his phone, annoyed. He hated not getting his information.
He looked down at the flaming creature, it mewled angrily and gnawed the concrete.
"Can't just leave you here..." He thought about what to do with possibly the largest corpus delicti ever encountered, "Wait, yes I can." Tset cleaned and sheathed Papillion and then made his way back to his motorcycle.
He was in no rush - he was going to get his information and then move ahead.
Plus, what sort of problem could Hal have?
He texted Gregory, idly.
You aren't getting shit action out of me without some answers 1st. Sorry. Not after the size of that cousin I took out.
-T1
He took a short movie from a first-person perspective of him idling his way down the street, attached it, and sent it.
"Put that in your kettle and steep it, jackass."
But by this time, Tset was feeling as though maybe he should run - Gregory wouldn't playfully use words like 'hurry.' So he quickened his pace. His text and video should give Gregory the idea he'd better fess up, anyway. He slid his glasses back on as he briskly walked.
When he got back to the building the horror had been hiding in, Francois was leaning against the Shadow, a thin cigarette in his shaking fingers.
"I presume eet eez not coming back?"
"Unless its ashes blowing around is 'back,' no."
"Mon dieu, Tset." Francois looked worried.
"So, what happened?"
"I don't know."
"What do you mean you don't know?"
Francois pulled himself off of Tset's bike and indicated a mirror with his cigarette. Tset took a step and a glance. "Oh, God... least I'm not dating anyone."
His face was red, with yellow blistering boils. His eyebrows were gone and his short hair was singed, receded and sticking straight out from his head.
There was a brief pause and then Francois spoke, answering Tset's question; "'Ali
burton 'ad anozer leak, so I followed ze suspect. 'E operated out of zis building and when I went in, zere was ze monster. I lost heem an' zat's when you arrived."
Tset turned his gaze from his freakish self, "So I've got werewolves to handle now."
"Yes, it would seem as so."
"Next up is gargoyles, harpies, zombies, and Richard Nixon."
"'Oo?"
"Kind of a combination."
"Ah..." Francois was unfamiliar with the man.
"I'm going to get back to base, my base, and figure out what to do from there. You have a ride?"
"Ah... yes. I'll get one."
"Good. See ya 'round. Haliburton's apparently having some trouble, so I'll be there."
Francois' phone buzzed and he checked the text. "'Oly mozer of shitting God."
"what is it?"
"More of zem, at 'Aliburton HQ."
Tset almost shrieked his "WHAT?"
"Zey are attacking!"
"Yeah, no shit, they're not there for water polo."
Tset's phone buzzed, he answered. "Dante's fucking inferno. You interested in our special on buffalo wings? €$9.95 and you get some bread sticks."
"Tset. Things are out of hand. Get back here so I can give you a new piece of gear."
"You still haven't answered my question as to what it was." Tset's tone was clipped as he mounted his bike.
"I'll explain..." He broke off. "They're werewolves. Are you pleased?"
"Yeah, I figured that out, but thanks for being honest." Tset smirked. Gregory heard it.
"Hal should be able to hold them off for a time - they've adapted their ammo since you were last there."
"Oh, good." Tset was half sarcastic.
"Get here, now."
Tset started the bike, slapped his phone shut, nodded to Francois and was gone in a roar, cutting corners over sidewalks. Francois hadn't looked up from his shaking hands where he sat on a parking curb.
He arrived at the mansion and went inside. Gregory was there with a large box - large for Tset, for Gregory it looked like a case for a necklace.
"No time, its purpose should be obvious." He opened the box. Inside was one of the largest pistols Tset had ever seen.
"This is one of my old derringers. The bullets are an inch in diameter."
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