Neckbeard Vampire: Nightbeard Rising

by David Morgan

  Chapter 17

  Dex sat huddled over a couple pots on a hot plate. A viscous red liquid bubbled inside as he occasionally stirred, or added an additional ingredient.

  “What is that?” Johnathan said.

  “Medicine.” Dex answered.

  “For whom?” It’s for Kara. And it’s for you—and it’s for Chad and everyone else that may need it.”

  Dex stood up and called for the rest of the group to come over. They gathered around, “It’s time that you all learn about the Dakimakura.”

  “That right there,” and he pointed to the pots of stewing liquid, “…is your best weapon against her. That,” he said, “is the Red Pill in the making. It is the recipe that my grandfather taught to me,” and he nodded to the Doctor, “and it will keep you safe.”

  He paused before continuing, “It will keep you thinking clearly, men” and he looked to Fantasia, “Fantasia—generally speaking, you should already be immune to her charms. But be careful—she will seek to make you into one of her own.”

  “The Red Pill will ‘wake you up’—you will be immune to her charms, and with the correct dosage, you will be able to resist her entirely—disarming her most potent weapon. When this batch is ready, you are to each take a dose every morning and evening. Are there any questions?”

  “Where did she come from?” Randall asked, raising his hand as though speaking to a teacher.

  “I do not know. But I know my grandfather hunted her, and his father hunted her, and his father before him. Now I hunt her—and it seems I am have found her and am at long last able to kill her. To rid the world of her evil.” He looked around at each of the semi-confused faces around the room and then began to explain further.

  Presently, the door at the top of the basement stairs opened and in peered Chad’s mom, “Chad?! I made some snacks for you and your friends. Do you want to bring them down?” Chad scurried upstairs and came back down with a tray full of small sandwiches, cookies, and a pitcher of juice.

  “The Dakimakura---she has existed for quite possibly hundreds of years. No one knows her true origins, except perhaps her. I have read of creatures similar in nature to her in many ancient myths. I believe that she, though not unique in her nature, is unique in her kind.

  She has wandered the earth for many generations, like a child—testing her power, and then abusing it. Countless pathetic, beta men have fallen to her prey. I have fought others like her—her children you might say…the ones who become like her, to whom she gives the Dark Gift. Some are the neckbeards whom she charms into serving her, but most are women.

  I strongly suspect that she was once human—a witch who sold her soul to Satan and lost herself in the dark arts. Trading a soul for power over men. Because power over men is power over life. She speaks many languages, though her native is Japanese—and she cannot rest unless it is among the fruits of her home soil.

  If she does not rest, then she—like a human—will grow tired and weak. But she is cunning. She has many servants. Those to whom she offers the Dark Gift are mostly females.

  “Kara.” Fantasia said quietly.

  “Exactly. We were fortunate enough to intercept Kara before she turned completely—and so there is still hope for us. This will aid us, as she would have been counting on us being distracted by her minion.

  “But,” Dex’s voice grew dark and ominous, and all listened intently, “The dangers of the false Dakis—for that is what they are called—pale in comparison to the threat of the loyalties which she can amass through…other means.”

  “What ‘other means’?” asked Jaxxon5.

  “The friend zone.”

  Every person in the room stopped breathing as the gravity of the word fell upon them.

  Fantasia seemed confused, “What is the ‘friend zone’?”

  All of the men looked at her in disgust.

  “The friend zone,” Randall began to explain, “is when a girl you like only sees you as a friend—even though you really like her.”

  “What’s wrong with that?” Fantasia was genuinely dumbfounded.

  Cruxx took the reins, “The ‘friend zone’, Fantasia, is when a bitch knows you like her more than friends but the bitch don’t like you—and so you convince yourself that if you put her on a pedestal and treat her better than all the other bitches, she’ll one day see you as more—especially as the bitch keeps complaining about her deadbeat douche of a boyfriend to you all the time. You just keep sitting there, slowly rotting away in the friend zone—thinking you’re making progress. But do you know the truth, Fantasia?”

  Fantasia just looked at him, completely lost for words in Cruxx’s firestorm.

  “The truth is just that she’ll never like you. She just likes your attention—and she’ll keep you around for as long as she can keep getting attention from you, letting you dote on her and put her on a pedestal and do her homework and all that sappy ass shit. But you’ll never realize it…”

  “Realize what?” Johnathan asked.

  “That that bitch done gone and made you her bitch. Bitch!” Cruxx folded his arms, satisfied in his accurate, albeit long-winded explanation of the injustices of the friend zone.

  “Indeed,” Dex began. “That is the friend zone, but with the Dakimakura it is so much—,”

  “Stop stop stop.” Fantasia said, “You’re saying that a girl is a bitch because she sees the guy only as a friend?”

  Cruxx broke off again. “No, bitch! That ain’t why she’s a bitch. She’s a bitch because she’s a bitch. And a bitch does not do nice things. A bitch gonna let a guy dote on her and buy her shit and all that shit, thinkin’ he’s gonna get some—but that bitch knows she never gonna give him some—but she keep right on goin’ lettin’ him think he gonna get some. But he never does. THAT is a friend zoning bitch face.” And the other men nodded in mutual understanding.

  “I can’t believe what I’m hearing,” Fantasia began, putting her palm over her face. “So just because a guy does a girl favors you think he’s entitled to sex? No one’s making him do anything! That’s farcically absurd!”

  “Bitch ain’t you been listening?!” Cruxx was on a soap box. “Ain’t nobody here talkin’ ‘bout entitlement. Dafuq you don’t understand about dat word? What’s a person do when they think they entitled to something?” Cruxx looked hard at Fantasia. She had no choice but to answer.

  “They…take it? I guess?” Fantasia answered, though not altogether confident in her response.

  “Damn straight, bitch!” Cruxx didn’t skip a beat, “And whodafuq in dis conversation is talkin’ ‘bout ‘takin’ anything?! I’ll tell you who: NOBODY! We talkin’ ‘bout pathetic dudes who go and do shit for bitches in hopes it might make her like them. We talkin’ ‘bout friendzonin’ bitches who think they all that and a bag of Doritos and that some dude should just consider himself lucky to be able to talk to her and wait on her hand and foot. Bitch ain’t no man on Earth wanna be ‘just’ friends witchu! They want more!”

  Fantasia looked like she was about to cry. Dex jumped in.

  “The nature of the friend zone of humans is not relevant to our topic of conversation. What we’re trying to say,” and Dex turned to Fantasia reassuringly, “is that she will flirt mercilessly with desperate men, convince them that her interest is growing in them, so that they might become hopelessly devoted to her cause, though in reality it is a wicked enchantment. They become her slaves, doing her bidding, helping her travel, keeping her safe, and even sacrificing themselves to her enemies.”

  “So they’re like an extra line of defense.” Mickey concluded.

  “Pawns in a chess game.” Cruxx added, having calmed down and stepped off of his soap box.

  “Precisely. But we have the advantage now, friends.” Dex said.

  “We know her hiding place.” Randall noted.

  “Exactly! And it has been confirmed by our friend,” he nodded to Chad, “that the pillow was surrounded in anime and Manga.”

&nb
sp; Dex was beside himself in excitement, it was the fulfillment of his life’s mission. It was the moment he had fought for since the very beginning. It was the moment his grandfather had fought for and the moment his grandfather’s father had fought for. The day would soon approach in which he would surely know satisfaction. His pursuit would not be in vain.

  “Tomorrow.” He said.

  “Tomorrow? What?” Mickey asked.

  “Tomorrow I will destroy her.”

  “Shouldn’t we have a plan?”

  “Yes—tomorrow, Chad will take me to Paxton’s house. There, Cruxx and Fantasia will join me as back up. We will enter the house during the day, Cruxx and Fantasia will restrain Paxton, and I will kill the Dakimakura while she sleeps.”

  “When she is dead,” he continued, “the friend Paxton will be freed of his bondage to this she-devil and Kara will be restored to her normal state. She will not become the friendzoning slut that the Dakimakura is, and I…,” his voice dropped off for a moment, “…and she will be healed.” He concluded.

  He looked around the room at the eyes eagerly fixed on him and ready for action. “We will all stay here tonight.” He said. “Chad’s mother has been kind enough to offer us accommodation for so long as we should need it. Considering the Furry threat, it would be best if the guild stay here as well. Chad will stay in his own room upstairs.

  “Tomorrow, when the Dakimakura is destroyed, then many of us can breathe easy. My disappearance will discharge the rage of the Furries, and you may return to your normal lives.”

  The guild settled in and made themselves comfortable. A watch was set for defensive measures, and the Doctor had set up a makeshift laboratory using a children’s chemistry kit that was found in the basement, a relic of a Christmas long past.

  Dex began the watch, peering out the windows—walking around and checking all exits. As he passed the lab table, he looked into the red liquid now solidifying into tiny capsule molds. He feared the change that would overcome him without consistent Red Pill doses, but he could not risk being debilitated before the fight was over. He dismissed himself to the bathroom.

  Standing again in front of the mirror, he continued to eye the transformation. A small pimple had appeared on the right side of his forehead, just above the temple. He place his fingers around it, pulled the skin back and pushed—forcing the pressure of the oil to burst through its seal. A white sludge oozed out of the pore and was slowly replaced with blood.

  He rinsed his face in the sink before peering again into the mirror. He rubbed his hands across his face and untangled a wad of hair from his fingers. He looked closer—a clump of hair, the size of a quarter had become uprooted from his face, catching and tangling between his fingers, leaving a small patch of naked skin on his cheek. The transformation was happening faster than he thought.

  The second chin continued to grow and he even noticed small pockets of lumpy fat forming around his chest. The thought of it made him cringe. If he could destroy her tomorrow, then at least his transformation would not spell out death for the others. But try as he might, he could not prevent the thought of failure from slowly and steadily creeping into his mind.

  Should he fail—then Kara would turn, like so many before her—and possibly countless others, currently—lurking in the dark places of the world, friendzoning pathetic beta men, using them and then ditching them. He’d seen what they become—the lost souls of the abandoned betas. White knights and manginas.

  They’re empty shells of men, having once possessed (at least) a few ounces of courage, now left to desperate attempts of scavenging for attention...endlessly offering compliments, defending women from the attention of jock douchebags...they are in a state far worse than ever before. Heartbroken, depraved…and hopeless. Constantly berating and apologizing for their own gender.

  A sound came from upstairs as the clock struck two. The slow, well-paced footsteps of one who did not want to be heard. Dex grabbed his sword and walked towards the steps.

  He stopped, straining to listen.

  “There!” he said to himself as he heard the sound again. It was further now—near the front of the house. He walked up the stairs silently with his blade at the ready. He turned the door handle, pulled, and then slowly returned it to its position, not bothering to shut it behind him.

  He heard the noises again—this time opening the front door. Someone was definitely sneaking around in the darkness.

  Dex made his way into the living room, as silent as the darkness that surrounded him—a shadowy silhouette moved about the room.

  “Stop.” Dex said.

  The silhouette jumped, dropping something on the floor. Dex lowered his sword and flicked on the light.

  “Chad.” He said, “I nearly killed you.”

  “Sorry,” he said, quickly bending down to pick up some comic books. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

  “I was on watch.” Dex responded, “Here,” and he went to pick up a book that fell to the ground, but Chad jerked. “No!” Prompting Dex to stop.

  “I mean—sorry,” Chad stuttered, “It’s just they’re very old, and possibly worth a lot of money.” And he bent down to pick up a Manga in a dust sleeve with some Japanese hieroglyphs on the cover.

  Dex looked at it, “I didn’t know you speak Japanese.” he said. “Why are you up so late?”

  “Oh—I—I—I just forgot that my mom had asked me to get these out of the garage.” He stuttered, trying to sound less suspicious. “And I don’t speak Japanese—but I’ve always—uhh—wanted to learn.” He was not altogether convincing, but it was his house, Dex thought.

  “Here.” Dex picked up the Manga and handed it to Chad. “Go to bed—we’ve got a lot of work to do tomorrow.”

  “Right. Good night, Dex.”

  “Good night, Chadwick.”