Unliving is not always brains and bowels. Today was one of those days for Ivan. A monster hunter was on his trail and escape was starting to seem less and less likely. Even the slim possibility of getting away seemed like a near certainty when he compared the odds against those of besting the big man in combat. And so he remained still, crouching between tall stacks of barrels in the vacant warehouse near a Portland marina.
Ivan was what humans called a revenant. Unlike the lesser undead species, like zombies and ghouls, revenants came into being very rarely and were at least as intelligent as humans. When a person performs an act so ugly, so loathsome that the world’s ambient magic takes notice, a revenant is born. What act Ivan had performed to become what he now was remained a mystery even after all of these years. The only life, the only memories that he had began when he rose, a corpse rasping its first ragged breath.
Since then, he could make a dozen-page list of atrocities he’d committed.
The warehouse’s side door burst open, slamming into the wall with a bang. A huge shadow crept into view, followed by a huge man. Ivan was struck with a sense of inevitable, inexorable doom as the mountainous monster hunter began probing the air with his nose. That feeling multiplied when he looked sharply over in Ivan’s direction.
Run, remain still, or fight… he wondered.
The monster hunter was making a bee-line across the concrete floor directly at him. Remaining still was off the table. He could run, but he’d been running. And hiding. And his assailant continued to find him time and time again. There was only one option left.
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Ivan rose slowly to his full height, stepping forward to meet the man in melee. Ivan was not certain that he could be killed, he never had been despite sustaining several injuries that should have been fatal. Still, he could be hurt. Cautiously, the combatants began circling one another. Ivan acted first.
Leaping through the air, claws extending from his fingertips, Ivan howled wildly. Just before his poison-tipped claws raked the man across the chest, a big meaty fist took him in the jaw. Lights flashed in his vision, and he hit the ground hard. Before he could so much as blink, a paralyzing weight landed on his back. A foot, a large booted foot was pressing down on the small of his back.
At least today I will find out whether a wretch such as myself even can die. That was the thought going through his mind when a hand wrapped around his wrist, squeezing with incomprehensible strength.
Ivan cried out in pain as he felt his shoulder dislocate. The monster hunter grunted as he pulled harder, pressing down on Ivan’s back with his foot. Blinding pain accompanied a morbid snapping as his arm was ripped free of his body. The pain was too much, and Ivan lost consciousness. Perhaps forever.
When Ivan opened his eyes, a horrible feeling clenched his gut. He was deep, deep underwater. So deep that only tiny glittering reflections of light from the sun above made it to him. That light allowed him to see, but what he saw made his clenched gut quiver. He was in a cage. A very small cage. So small that, had all of his limbs not been removed, there was no way he would fit inside of it. But they had. Laminated and strapped to the bars of the cage with a pair of zip ties, Ivan’s tormentor had left a note.
Hey shithead. I figure you’re going to be down here a while and I didn’t want to leave you without anything to look at.
Greg Van Helsing
Between the note and signature there was a hand drawn self-portrait of the man responsible for Ivan’s current predicament. He seethed at the likeness, swearing revenge most fowl upon Greg Van Helsing if he ever made it out of this cage.