The Cosmic Death was a bedevilling sight. A singular massive all encompassing red eye about to burst from its socket, a bouquet of mangled limbs where her legs presumably once held up her formerly human body. Black blood and an all so miserable stench.
“In the end, not even the beauty of a millionaire’s daughter stood a chance.” Bruce was one with the blackness as he squatted on one of the candle tubes of the chandelier, it’s candles long void of light. During the days leading up to this tragedy, this chandelier hung over business deals, parties for Tobei’s finest and perhaps most tragically of all, a loving family.
Now underneath it was the families only daughter, Leyla Bennington who thundered around and tore her father’s dining room table to splinters.
She couldn’t see in the blackness of the mansion, yet she tore anything that graced her dozens of lower limbs to pieces as if it were her mortal enemy. Foolish girl, didn’t she know that her true enemy, the one who was sent to claim her life lingered in the depths of the ceiling? Perched on her father’s most prized chandelier, a gargoyle shaped like a man.
It didn’t surprise Bruce, The Cosmic Death rarely left any sense in its victims.
He was sent here by none other than her father Benjamin Bennington. According to the rather rotund gentleman, the poor thing went to sleep completely normal and woke up a bloody monster in the morning. What a nightmare that must be for a parent. Regardless, the girl would meet her end at Bruce’s hands tonight. The fate of all Necromorphs was to die. Either at the hands of Immortal Soldiers like himself, or to the freezing of the planet as the Cosmic Death murders the star that nourishes it.
After her death the entire mansion would have to be incinerated. The costs would be astronomical, this mansion was worth more money than Bruce had seen in his entire one hundred and sixty seven years of living.
“Father?” Benjamin’s beloved daughter now turned hulking monstrosity cried out for a long lost warmth. “Father… mother… help me, I’m scared.”
Bruce’s silver eyes widened in surprise, The poor thing still had some semblance of sense after all. Well, that was only more of a reason to kill her. She’d only suffer more the longer she remained alive.
Stark retrieved a dagger knife from his coat and held its blade to the Shackle of the chandelier.
He waited, predicting Leyla Bennington’s movements.
She continued to storm blindly amidst the smashed glass, wood and bent metal utensils scattered across the floor.
He waited, anticipating the moment she would cross right underneath the chandelier in her tortured state.
One of her limbs brushed up on a chair when she stormed past it, it then got caught in her tattered and torn nightgown and dragged along with her. Shocked by the disturbance her massive eye darted around, shimmering in the blackness like a lighthouse in the fog. The relentless scraping of the chair’s legs on the floor drove the girl into another frenzy.
She quickly ran in a circle, edging close to where the chandelier would drop, almost where Bruce wanted her. She reached for the chair with one of her limbs and tore it free from her gown before hurling it up towards Bruce suddenly.
“Shit!” Bruce was caught off guard and quickly abandoned the chandelier, lunging through the darkness and rolling across the floor.
The chair collided with the chandelier and caused it to descend upon the dining room, striking the ground in an explosion of glass and gold. The thundering noise caused Leyla to become a vortex of destruction fuelled by her own fear.
She attacked the various pieces of the chandelier, smashing them with some of her limbs and flinging them to god knows where with the others
Bruce quickly took cover around the corner leading to the kitchen, leaning forward to peak at the rampaging mutant. “Did she spot me?” He wondered and hoped not as that would be most unfortunate.
If he was to kill her quickly and painlessly then he had to catch her off guard. If she saw him then the Cosmic Death would compel her to kill and struggle to the very miserable end. Those were the kills he hated the most. The mind would play tricks on him, telling him that this was an innocent person. Well they often were but that mattered little. Innocent… guilty... once a person has been infected their days on this world are numbered either way.
Once the various pieces of the chandelier had been thoroughly destroyed to the point of merging with the rest of the debris, Leyla’s rage was temporarily satiated.
Bruce slipped his revolver from his pocket and aimed carefully. It didn’t really matter where he shot her as the bullets were explosive and would ignite her black blood. Hopefully the damn thing wouldn’t jam as it did last time. The air was as cold as ice, freezing his nose with every calm controlled and silent breath. Small clouds of fog rose before his face, hopefully Layla wouldn’t see it.
He pulled the trigger but his ears weren’t met with the crisp bang he expected, instead an irking blood boiling click sounded.
“It fucking jammed!” Bruce cursed in his mind, heart and soul. That back alley dealer had taken the bloody piss with him. The sudden increase in the amount of outbreaks in the past years ensured fruitful business for the dealers. His own former personal favourite, a bucked tooth mongrel named Lyon had increased the price of a single round to an entire flat bar. Not tolerating the obvious extortion, Bruce explored other options. He had purchased his current rounds from a back alley nobody in the boondocks of ward 2131, a decision he now regretted dearly.
He glared at the revolver before looking back at his target. That’s when he found out that he wasn’t the only one who was irritated by the click.
Layla’s bulging eye was locked on to him. It slowly began to change, its internal structure morphing like a hypnotic pattern as its pupil narrowed. Did she really spot him?
Immortal Soldiers had eyes that could see in the pitch black of night effortlessly, it was this advantage that Bruce was relying on.
Depending on the degree of mutation it was possible that she may spontaneously develop night vision. These Necromorphs all had their annoying gimmicks. It was a fact Bruce knew all too well.
Bruce slowly receded back around the corner where he stood with his back against the wall, listening carefully.
Step after step continued to get closer, It wasn’t the sound of two feet but over a dozen footsteps could be heard. It was as if the young woman had become a band of soldiers. Bruce carefully tucked the revolver back into his pocket where he quickly switched out the round for another, careful not to make a sound.
The footsteps continued to near the corner as he drew his revolver again.
The single eye poked out from around the corner, looking straight ahead at the wall.
She stepped forward revealing more of her contorted form. She was utterly massive, perhaps three metres or more?
Her skin was ghoulishly pale with streaks of black blood staining her tattered white gown. Her legs had grown, split and multiplied into the various fused limbs propping her up. Her dark hair was matted, her other eye was drooping out. A far cry from the beauty she was in the picture her father showed Bruce.
Perhaps worst of all was the utterly shambolic smell of the Cosmic Death that radiated from her. It was as if a bloody god had died and rotted away, bringing only an aroma of decay and dread. It was sour, thick, bloody and rotten, like a pig that gorged on human scat and died in its own. Bruce hated that about the Necromorphs most of all. Just looking at the poor souls was enough misery. The smell was just petty.
“Who is there?” She spoke into the darkness fruitlessly. “Is it you, mother and father? Is it really you? Where are you? I can’t see anything…”
She slowly turned to look to her right before walking towards the kitchen. Bruce moved behind her, turning with her to stay out of her sight.
He aimed and the pissing revolver jammed again…
The sound stopped Layla in her tracks. She looked around and up and down before looking behind her.
She was staring right at Bruce but didn’t seem to actually see him. If Bruce moved or tried to change out his round again she’d definitely hear it. To make things worse he was on the verge of gasping for air, having slowed his breathing to an unreasonable degree.
Screw it. He would brute force it. It would hurt the poor girl but so would allowing her to exist like this for any longer.
“Someone’s there I know it!” Leyla leaned in towards him, her eye damn near resting on his forehead.
Bruce drew forth his dagger knife and thrusted it straight into her swollen eye.
She lifted her head up carrying Bruce up with her as he held on to the weapon stubbornly. She screamed bloody murder, causing Bruce to be in utterly miserable agony as he stamped down on her shoulders before ripping the blade out. He then flipped backwards before darting in the opposite direction from the kitchen and up the long winding staircase.
Leyla quickly gave chase, tearing up the walls with her massive hook like nails and smashing countless paintings. She ascended the Staircase while roaring at Bruce. “Dad that was you right? Why would you hurt me after I’ve been such a caring and obedient daughter? I’ll tear you to pieces for betraying me. I’ll slowly rip you limb from limb!”
Bruce had once again reloaded his revolver as he backed up the staircase, step after careful step. Making sure to keep a measured distance between himself and the target, he aimed and pulled the trigger. This time it didn’t jam.
The explosive round impacted her mangled mesh of legs and exploded in a vortex of flames.
Reaching the top of the staircase, Bruce took cover around the corner once more before peering down into the flaming carnage.
A loud scream that some may fancy more of a beastly howl shook the walls, Leyla’s burning silhouette charging forward from the blazing inferno.
Bruce was utterly stumped at what he was witnessing. The method to kill a Necromorph was always to ignite their blood. Once that happened they’d be dead in seconds as they exploded from the inside out. But this was the first time he had seen a Necromorph with such a low degree of mutation survive more than one explosive bullet. This girl was quite the puzzle indeed.
As She got closer Bruce backed further around the corner and down the creaking wooden boards of the corridor.
She charged forward crashing into the wall and letting out her loudest assault on the ears yet, almost shaking Bruce to his knees. He slammed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth in pain. His ears were wringing and his head spun, if that wasn’t bad enough the air in his lungs was quickly blasted out to add insult. Layla had struck him in the chest and sent him flying and tumbling across the floor, through a bedroom door and through two dressers until he landed on the bed. Opening his eyes he saw utter carnage in his path. The looming figure of Leyla was just beyond the door frame.
He saw a thick black bubbling mucus dripping down the right side of her lower limbs where he had shot her.
“How charming.” Bruce cheered in a sarcastic tone. It all made sense now. He had underestimated her severely and a merciful death was no longer an option. Such mucus had the ability to completely negate fire, it would be an utter pain to deal with. In order for her death to still occur as scheduled, Bruce would have to use far more gruesome methods than he had initially planned.
He sprang off the bed and tucked his revolver back in his pocket.
“Father, don’t you dare hide after attacking your own child.” Unable to fit through the door frame, Leyla roared before ripping away chunks of the door frame and wall to get to her target.
Bruce sighed as he closed his eyes. “I’m sorry young maiden, you never asked for this. May you find eternal peace and rest once you depart this mortal world.”
Bruce completely unbuttoned his coat revealing numerous pockets on the inside filled with his trusted utensils.
“Daddy’s right here!” Bruce yelled out a provocation as he readied himself.
“I knew you were in here!” Leyla stepped back away from the partially destroyed entrance to the room, the delicate wooden floor creaking under her weight. She made a throwing motion with her right arm before it extended like the body of a serpent.
It snaked its way through the rotten air, in through the destroyed door frame and deep into the bedroom where it gripped Bruce’s arm.
She then tore him from where he stood in a mighty arc that destroyed the stone walls to her right. She swung the Immortal Soldier around in a three hundred and sixty degree motion.
Bruce was suddenly swung outside into the cold air before being swung back into the mansion’s stone wall destroying massive chunks of it. He gritted his teeth and endured as his flesh clashed with stone, wood and glass. Everything was a spinning blur in a hurricane of debris. Only the thick pale hand grasping his left arm was visible to him.
To a novice, it may have seemed like he was done for. That couldn’t be further from the truth. Bruce was an experienced hunter and right now his prey was right where he wanted it to be.
He stuffed his hand into the highest of his inside pockets on the right side of his coat where he retrieved a very special gun. It was the size of a pistol with a barrel that narrowed into a long needle like point. This was his trusted flame throwing syringe, a weapon as cruel as the name suggested. A small tube containing lighter fluid was attached to the back of it. Once Bruce pressed the trigger the fluid would ignite at the needle like tip, injecting the Necromorph with fire.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
Bruce remembered the first time he used it. It was on a prisoner who had also suddenly contracted the Cosmic Death. The bastard was in for beating his wife and child, so unlike Leyla he received little sympathy from Bruce. The miserable retch had erupted to the size of an elephant, had the breath of one too. He rampaged throughout the prison killing guilty and innocent alike, devouring their corpses one after another. This was perhaps five maybe six years ago? It was before little Felix’s voice broke wasn’t it? Well it didn’t matter much as Bruce still remembered the moment he pounced from the shadows, plunging the tip deep into the criminal’s flesh before pulling the trigger. The criminal exploded splendidly, took half of his ward with him. The weapon quickly became a favourite of his and his second choice after his revolver. Whenever his revolver would fail to do the job the flame throwing syringe as he named it would quickly finish the job in its place.
He snapped back to reality when he felt himself go through the ceiling before slamming against a wall. Dust clouded his vision as he quickly stabbed the tip of the flame throwing syringe into Leyla’s hand and instantly pulled the trigger.
The hand immediately inflated like a balloon before heating up rapidly.
Bruce’s entire world became a portrait of fire as the hand exploded while still holding on to him.
The floor underneath him gave way and he fell into the flaming pit of his own creation, crashing down into flaming obscurity. He looked around and saw no sign of Leyla at first. Was she dead? Bruce sure hoped so.
A dark figure soon emerged from the flames. It was Leyla, or at least most of her.
Bruce observed closely. Her entire right half was missing, bubbling black mucus replacing it.
“It hurt’s” she said, over and over again.
“Christ all mighty…” Bruce sighed. The Bennington family sure knew how to raise a tough girl. She just wouldn’t die.
Feeling his conscience start to haunt him, Bruce decided to end her suffering once and for all. He charged at her and tackled the three metre tall mutant to the ground, pinning her down with his knee on her chest and right hand pressing down on her forehead.
“HOW DARE YOU!” Layla bellowed as she struggled against the strength of the Immortal Soldier. She cried and screamed. Her one massive eye resembled a pale popped balloon after Bruce had stabbed it.
Bruce didn’t enjoy any of this. This poor thing was in pain. This was a girl only some twenty years old. The poor thing had dreams and a future. This place was supposed to be where her story started, and not where it ends. Yet it must end here regardless. Such was the cruelty of the plague killing the universe.
“I’m sorry.” Bruce said, before his hair flared as streaks of electricity drifted from tip to tip.
At the next moment a pale blue light briefly lit up all of the mansions windows from the inside.
To Benjamin and Marissa Benington who stood on a cliff overlooking the Bennington estate, the mansion appeared almost ghostly in the darkness of night.
Both of them wore all black to grieve in their daughter’s final moments.
The blue light was gone as quickly as it came, now replaced by a growing amber glow.
A fire was spreading inside of the mansion. Bruce had done is job as scheduled. Their baby girl was gone from this world.
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Marissa fell to her knees, her tears falling to the ground and sinking into the black soil. She pulled at her matted white hair in despair.
Her husband kneeled down beside her, trying his best to be strong. It wasn’t fair, they should’ve gotten to burry her at least. They should’ve held the hand of their little girl as she passed on into her next life.
“Death is a cruel and spiteful thing.” Marissa cursed her daughter’s fate. She cursed her own too. No parent should out live their child, it was a pain oh so bloody awful.
The air was cold, and so was the heart of death. All of these painful years spent nurturing the girl, from her first steps until her first heart break. Did it ever really matter?
Marissa rose up and roared into the stars above, into the abyssal hole that was slowly growing bigger and bigger, devouring the stars as it hurdled towards Tobei. It was coming for her. It was coming for them all! The bloody Cosmic Death itself. If it took her daughter then it must take her as well. It must not let a mother suffer on without her beloved and irreplaceable child.
She stood up, brushing away the lacklustre comfort that her husband’s hand provided. She stared at the mansion that now had smoke rising from it. The amber glow in the windows had become a blazing golden light. “Let me burn in the flames of this hell with my precious Leyla.”
“What are you doing?!” Benjamin extended his hand towards his wife, but it was too late.
Marissa ran towards a dip in the cliff side off to her left, intending to burn alongside her child.
Benjamin ran as fast as he could to stop his wife from doing what he thought she was about to do.
Before Marissa could reach the dip, a blur intercepted her at inhuman speed. A strong lanky arm firmly scooped up the frantic woman, spinning her into a one armed embrace from behind.
Bruce’s coat fluttered in the cold wind like a pair of abyssal black wings. He dipped his head down a long way to reach her ears and said. “Calm down Mrs. Bennington. She’s in a better place now.”
Benjamin came to stop and immediately asked. “She didn’t suffer too much in the end right.”
“All those infected with the Cosmic Death will suffer.” Bruce replied, not sparing the man of the blunt truth. “Just know I ended it as fast as I could. It was for the best anyway as she still had some awareness left.”
“Really?” Benjamin squinted, holding back tears to limited effect. “She still died our Leyla?”
Bruce nodded, not sure if he himself was lying or telling the truth. That’s when a chill raced down his spine as he remembered. Layla had died thinking her father attacked her. What a sick joke.
He released Marissa who quickly ran into her husband’s embrace. “She died still herself. Our baby died while she still knew who she was.”
Benjamin was crying now. He had given up on trying to be strong. He collapsed to his knees with his wife, and the two cried together without restraint.
The Cosmic Death was a bedevilling sight. Bruce gazed up into the night sky. Every time his eyes met the void it seemed to get larger. A circle of pure blackness carved into the star filled sky. The Cosmic Death loomed over him like always. It devoured the Pleiades when he was but a lad, and The Orion constellation when he grew into a young man. Pegasus, Taurus, Aries, Pisces, even cancer would be missed. All of these constellations devoured, never to be bore witness to again. One hundred years ago he could hold his hand up over the Cosmic Death to make it vanish. Now it took up a good ten percent of the night sky. That must have been billions of stars that died in such a short amount of time, and this star system was next. It was a shame honestly. Tobei was one of the more pleasant planets. It was the only place where Bruce felt at home after the earth was shattered, its sun also suffering the same fate as the other stars.
“Don’t stare at it for too long.” The voice of a young woman said getting closer.
Looking to the bricked road by the side of the cliff where the voice came from, Bruce saw an elegant woman dressed in all white from the top of her head to the bottom of her feet. She wore an iron mask depicting the face of a Greek maiden, and had a book of some kind held against her chest.
“It is not our place to look, it is not our place to confront it.” The young woman said. “Stark shall return one day and cleave open the belly of the beast that devoured the stars. The stars will be released back into the sky and the constellations will once more be complete. Allow me to pray with the Benjamins, let them meet salvation.”
Bruce immediately knew what her gimmick was, she was a damn twat from a cult. Surely he must dispute her nonsense now less she take advantage of the Benningtons in their vulnerable state.
“Oh!” Benjamin quickly called out to the approaching woman. “Bless you fair maiden. Thank you oh so very much for coming!”
Bruce looked back at the man with an eyebrow raised. The bloody bastard couldn’t be serious.
The woman walked past Bruce before squatting down with the grieving couple. “Let us pray and drink of the divine blood.”
They were a nasty bunch those cultists. During his long life Bruce had encountered many of such unfortunate souls. They were always trying to recruit him, trying to turn him into one of them. They worshipped many strange things. Some even worship the Cosmic Death itself, fancying it to be the will of a wrathful outer god. As for what a bunch of stars, planets and unsuspecting organisms could’ve possibly done to arouse such divine retribution, Bruce had no clue. Asking the cultists was never a good idea, such people tended to get violent when their philosophies came into question.
Bruce wanted to speak but found little fuel for words. In his profession it wasn’t uncommon for him to deal with grieving families. The loss would break them down, leaving them malleable for the forces of mass delusion. But then again Bruce couldn’t blame them. Humans by their nature were driven by feelings. A person will always choose the most comforting story over the one telling the truth. To a grieving heart lies where like the embrace of the one they lost while the truth was the blade that killed them. It took a strong person to face the truth. Most people were only normal.
“Stark will set her soul free with his black blade.” The fair maiden said lying beautifully.
Maybe this was for the best. If Bruce was to confront her with the Benningtons in this state he’d only worsen their anguish.
“I’ll leave you be.” Bruce said turning to leave. “Farewell Mr and Mrs. Bennington.”
“Wait!” Benjamin suddenly called out to Bruce. “Thank you for your service, I’ll have your payment sent to your bank by tomorrow mor-“
“We need not discuss that now.” Bruce said, half turning his head back to look down on the man. “Please take your time to grieve. Discussing business matters over your daughter’s corpse is rather rude, don’t you agree?”
“You’re correct.” Benjamin nodded before resuming his embrace with the two women.
Bruce continued on down the cliff side road, his black boots clacking on the bricks.
The road quickly curved to the right where it was flanked on either side by a dense forest. He saw Benjamin’s automobile parked just off the road in the grass, its engine still emitting a low hum.
Bruce turned the corner and continued down the dark road until he came to a small wooden shack with a single window. Right now he had to seek out a certain someone. The tragedy involving Leyla Bennington was a conformation of an alarming trend he had noticed in the past few months. There had been a string of outbreaks in this ward specifically, which was rather out of character for the Cosmic Death. Normally it struck at random, infecting anyone and anything at any particular point in time. Generally the outbreaks would only increase in frequency over time as already seen with this planet, but the locations of the outbreaks would remain random. In the past month alone five outbreaks had occurred in ward 1245, quite fishy to say the least, especially with that woman in all white lurking around.
He looked around silently. Nobody could bear witness to what he was about to do.
He placed his hand on the cold metal door knob and twisted it to open the door. He entered and closed the door behind him, having now gone far away.
He now stood on a cobble stone path suspended in the blackness of space. It split in two not far ahead, one path leading to a lavish wooden door adorned with decorations, the other leading to a bar’s front door. The wind of the cliff side was gone but the chill still lingered.
It was time.
Bruce doubled over as black blood erupted from his mouth. It spilled onto the cobble stone at his feet where it formed into a perfect circle.
Bruce wiped his mouth clean before commanding. “Come forth.”
The black circle began to bubble as a female figure rose up to face Bruce.
Its features were vague at first, veiled by the darkness of the blood that drenched it.
The black blood slowly descended down its curvaceous form, revealing gradually the characteristics of Leyla Bennington.
This was no longer the grotesque mutation Bruce had killed, but the pure daughter from the picture Benjamin had shown him. Long elegant black hair, flawless skin void of blemishes, and two green eyes that radiated calm.
“What happened?” She asked, it was a stupid question. Both her and Bruce knew its answer instinctively.
Bruce looked at her with a raised eyebrow.
She laughed. “I can’t go back and say goodbye to them can I…”
Bruce shook his head. There was always a serenity to the souls of the dead. Analysing the girl infront of him, Bruce saw not a trace of regret or fear. Why would there be? Fear… regret… those were things only the living had a use for.
“Why do I feel like this?” Leyla asked as a single tear streamed down from her left eye. “I thought I’d be afraid… desperate to go back. But I feel as if this was always how things were supposed to be.”
Bruce didn’t respond to her. There wasn’t a need to. He knew that deep within her soul she knew the answer to all of her questions.
Leyla looked around and asked. “Is this the other side?”
“Not quite.” Bruce said, that was at least one question he could answer for her. “Look up.”
Leyla did so and what she saw amazed her. “It’s… beautiful…”
Leyla began to glow with a radiance that vanquished the darkness surrounding the two of them. She looked back at the tall man in front of her and said. “Thank you…”
At the next moment she was gone along with her light, leaving Bruce alone in the darkness. This was the purpose he served. Bruce would stay until the very end to shepherd the unfortunate souls of those infected, guiding them to the world above the cobble stone path.
When he first arrived on this planet ten years ago there was only an outbreak once every other month. Now there’s constantly an outbreak going on somewhere on the planet at any point in time. At times even more than six outbreaks could occur simultaneously, and that’s not even counting the hot spot that was ward 1245.
With the current rate of increase the planet only had a year left before it became one massive horde of Necromorphs. Such a rapid decay was not unfamiliar to Bruce. Earth went the exact same way and so did many other planets he had resided on. He had ushered thousands of souls to the world above the cobblestone path, each one leaving behind the memories of countless worlds as they left.
Bruce locked his eyes on the door to the bar. The other door led to his house, but the time to return home to Azalia and the others was not now. Not while he had to discuss the sudden concentration of outbreaks in ward 1245 with “HIM”
Bruce made his way down the cobblestone path and entered into the bar before closing the door behind him.
Rodeo grove was like a second home to Bruce. The warmth of the dimly lit bar calmed his nerves. his eyes drifted across empty wooden tables, the counter and its shelves of colourful bottles and the two red curtains that swayed in the far left corner, veiling the room he was soon to enter. An upside down ocean of dark blue and violet vapour obscured the ceiling, only the foggy vestiges of the amber lamps visible up above. The floor, chairs and tables were all made from the same glossy red wood. It was a beautiful and homely place, made you want to sit down and write a romance novel.
The place was virtually empty. Bruce only saw Guyus after hearing him first. He was snoring as he lay on his back with his top hat half covering his moustache wearing face. He wore his signature tattered brown trench coat over his body as a blanket. His bare feet were kicked up on the arm rest of the couch he slept on, assaulting Bruce with a smell that spoiled the atmosphere.
Bruce sneered. Did this bastard forget that all Immortal Soldiers such as himself had sensitive noses? Perhaps he did, Bruce wouldn’t put it past the slumbering oaf. He was never the most considerate as droves of heart broken ladies could attest to.
Bruce eyed a still burning cigar in an ashtray on a small table next to the couch on the side where Guyus’s head rested. He was a smoker Guyus, quite odd for an Immortal Soldier. Neither Bruce nor any other Immortal Soldier Bruce knew could tolerate the vile chemical aromas in the smoke, the crap would make him nauseous. When Bruce had first met him he assumed that his nose didn’t function properly, but that couldn’t have been further from the truth. The man had a sense of smell only rivalled by a dog. He could enter a house and know the gender, age, health, height and even sexual history of everyone who had entered through it’s doors in the past month. Guyus was a man defined by eccentricities.
Bruce plucked the cigar with one hand while covering his nose with the other, he angle the smouldering tip of the cigar towards Guyus’s mouth before dropping it in.
With a mighty gasp, Guyus sprang up right launching his hat into the corner of the bar before spitting out the cigar and choking.
He glared up at Bruce in a half awake stupor, snarling like a dog. “Rancid cunt! What the devil is the matter with you?”
“I just had to put down the daughter of Benjamin Bennington.” Bruce explained, eyeing the red curtains.
“That Leyla lass?” Guyus immediately became alert, twisting himself to sit properly on the couch before slipping his feet back into his shoes. “That’s a damn shame… heard she was a right bombshell.”
“It’s a little strange don’t you think.” Bruce partially sat on the table as he spoke, ignoring Guyus’s rather distasteful remark. “At the start of the month it was that son of Dr. Richmond, Then the daughter of Mandelyn Smith, Then the air to the Carman foundation and now Benjamin Bennington’s eldest daughter. All of them live within a few miles of each other, and all of them were mysteriously infected in less than a month.”
“Did you notice anything out of the ordinary about them after they transformed?” Guyus asked curiously, his mind perhaps already brewing with a theory.
“They were all abnormally strong despite having only been infected recently.” Bruce said. “There is no way this is all just a coincidence.”
“Seems like it may be the work of a Plaguemancer.” Guyus said nodding to himself. “Though I struggle to grasp the motive.”
“That’s why I have a job for you.” Bruce said catching his immediate attention. “I left the Bennington estate less than five minutes ago. Before I took my leave they were joined by a woman dressed in all white dawning the mask of a maiden. She’s obviously involved with a cult of some kind. She’s still there praying with them as we speak.”
“Let me guess, you’d like me to keep an eye on her.” Guyus said.
“Not just her.” Bruce said. “I’d like you to keep your other eye on ward 1245 itself, report any unusual activity back to me. The dimensional passageway I conjured to come here is still active. If you head straight to the door at the far end you’ll get to the estate.”
This was Guyus’s primary function. The loyal blood hound of Rodeo grove, a man that thrived in the hidden art of espionage.
Guyus nodded before readying himself to leave.
Bruce continued on towards the red curtains and brushed them aside. It was time for Bruce to speak with “him”.