They walked in silence, eery stone markers of graves tilting at odd angles to both sides of their path. In the gloom of the night their shapes seemed to constantly morph, daring any eyes that lie upon them to discern their true shape. No sounds fell on their ears, save the soft crunch of mildewy leaves under their boots and the mild whispers of their breathing. The path curved down a slight hill to their left, and began to head towards a thick forest at the edge of the lot. They sidestepped a large marble monument which had collapsed from age and disrepair, and passed through a small break in the fencing into the mass of trees. A colourful glow of lights broke through the branches of the trees ahead, illuminating the branches in shades of yellow, white, blue, and red. Shadows danced among the trees and snuck along the ground as if playing a perpetual game of hide and seek.
They broke through a thick copse into a clearing, five feet from a paved road. A row of buildings lined the street, neon lights the culprit of the dancing hues in the sky, screaming colour into the night that a certain brand of beer was for sale at one shop, and that you should enter another establishment because it was "OPEN". The group, automatically trained to minimie visibility of their weaponry in public locales, had instantly slid their weapons into hiding or tight against the back of their sides.
Normal people didn't walk around carrying swords, axes, and weaponry in general. But these were not normal people.
"Ah, Jaym lad," Aidan began hesitantly, "it seems ta me we've done and gone ta far! Tha graves are behind us, dinna ye notice na more?" The Scot gave a quick stab of his thumb over his shoulder to the graveyard behind them.
"No. This is our destination." Jaym's ice blue eyes met with Aidan's, informing him there was no confusion on this matter.
"Jaym. What's going on?" V asked, not sure he understood. "This is Oak Avenue. Why are we outside the graveyard?"
"Because, what we're looking for is in there." He pointed with a thick index finger at the building straight across from the clearing where they stood.
Although only one story, it was of the wider buildings on the street. A large blue and white neon sign made its home mounted above the door, letting all but the blind know without a doubt that this was "Heavendown". Heavendown was a relatively trendy, if not out-of-the-way, drinking and dancing establishment intended for the singles crowd in the nearby suburbs.
"Heavendown?" Thom blurted, confused. "Jaym, if we were heading here in the first place why didn't we just drive here? Why go through the cemetary?" he motioned around them in annoyance.
"It was a shortcut. Let's go." Jaym smirked, and with a single spin of his axe, strolled across the street to the door of the bar.
"Shortcut!" Thom fumed. "Why does he do that? He always makes things into an elaborate joke of some kind. The kind only he gets. You know?" He glared at his leader's back and raised his voice as he shouted, "Only you think it's funny!"
V, standing beside him with a sly grin on his face, thumped Thom in the stomach lightly, causing the younger man to catch his breath for a moment. And, more importantly, to shut him up. "Thom. He does those things because you're never ready. If we just pulled up here and marched in, it'd be a massacre. He's trying to teach you a lesson on preparation. One you're not learning very quickly. He may be couching his lessons in these bizarre jokes of his, but the lessons are no laughing matter. Come on, let's go." Victor, or V, as the group called him, checked for passing cars and strolled after Jaym. Aidan tagged behind him, but not before turning his head back to plant a wide, toothy smile and a quick wink in Thom's direction.
Thom curled his lip in disdain and angrily swung his sword in a silvery blur of motion to release some of the anger boiling up inside of him. He cursed a few times under his breath in the direction of the other three, and spat on the ground to his side. "I am so sick of being treated like I can't do this. I've been fine the past three times. I don't care what they think. Jonny was the one not ready. Not me. I am too ready. I'm always ready."
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Thom's lifeless body lie shattered on the ground, his own sword firmly planted through his chest. His lifeless eyes glared straight ahead, as if daring anyone to mock him for his earlier arrogance. The dancefloor was littered with a handful of young bodies, some broken tables and chairs, and a large amount of glass from broken bottles and drinking mugs.
"V, left, lad!" Aidan shouted from the alcove he stood in to the left of the dancefloor, his face visible only every other second as a strobe light flickered on and off.
Victor swung to his left as fast as possible, lifting his crossbow up and launching a shot without aiming. The bolt planted into the wall where a shadow had been, but did no damage beyond cracking the plaster. "Not here!" he screamed, the sound echoing around the cavernous basement room, which on any given night would normally be thundering with music. His eyes scanned the mostly quiet room, ignoring the rustle of their clothes and the clicks of the strobe light. He was desperately trying to distinguish between the shadows he was looking for and the shadows that held them. He glanced left at a passing blur, unsure if it was nothing more than one of the hundreds of tricks his eyes were playing on him. Motion caused him to settle his gaze just beyond the left of the stage. Just behind Aidan.
"Aidan! Behind you!" V screamed and launched forward, dropping his unloaded crossbow as he simultaneously reached into his trenchcoat pocket. Aidan, acting on instinct rather than a plan, launched himself forward towards Victor's location desperately hoping his teammate would help save him. He felt a surge of cold terror brush the back of his neck, only to be replaced with a searing heat like which he'd never felt before. The sensation broke as a vial thrown by Victor whistled an inch past his left ear, shattering into something seemingly on his back. The white hot heat immediately ceased with a sudden hiss as shards of glass rained down his neck and wetness matted down the back left of his head. He fell forward to his knees, catching himself with both hands. V reached him almost at the same time.
Aidan gasped a deep, uneven breath. "T-thanks, lad."
"No time for thanks. Get up, quick." Victor clasped his hand around Aidan's and lifted him with a frantic surge. Once Aidan was standing on his own, he quickly stepped into position behind him and reached to his side, under his coat. He withdrew a crude wooden stake, highly sharpened at the end.
"I dinna got any more vials ah water, V. I dinna suppose ye can oblige?" Aidan desperately asked as he patted his pockets, searching.
"I'm out. Grab something else. Quickly, please." V hurriedly said. Aidan bent to grab the bottom half of a chair, and using his foot, broke a chair leg off. Glancing at his new weapon, he reached to the back of his belt and withdrew a switchblade, quickly flipped it open, and began frantically shaving and end into a point.
"I dinna suppose ye can ask fer a song request while I finish me whittlin'?" Aidan queried, attempting to lighten the mood as he so often did. V sighed while he continued to monitor the blinking room.
"Where's Jaym?" he asked Aidan, suddenly concerned for his friend and their team leader.
"I dinna. Upstairs still, I'm supposin'" the Scot sighed. "I'm hopin' he can grace us with his person soon, aye?"
Victor was about to reply when a chilling voice split the air into a thousand pieces. "I really hate it when you go out on the town and the party is...dead. Don't you?"
The two combatants twirled to face a shade materializing from the darkness from the dancefloor. The pale, stretched face flickered in the strobe like a black and white traffic light. The figure wore a pair of black leather pants, with a deep red shirt under a generic leather jacket. Brown hair flowed in an unkempt fashion down over the man's shoulders in split waves.
"Get ready, Aidan." V warned, voice no more than a whisper, as he lifted his stake to the ready, Aidan following suit.
"Ah, such a sight to behold. You do know," the brown-haired man's melodic voice rang out, "that is one of my favorite stereotypes of our battles? Think about it. You have a small, pointy wood stick in your slow, puny human hands. You need to hit me exactly... here." The man paused, to tap a long-nailed finger against his chest. "Now, that in itself isn't too bad. But considering that I'm no less than ten times faster than your fastest move, and several times stronger than you both combined... Well. You do the math on your odds of landing one of those stakes where it needs to go. It's really quite laughable, when you stop to consider it." A sly smile broke on the smooth skin, dark lips parting to flash a row of bleached white teeth that seemed to be dancing synchronously in the flickering of the strobe light.
"Try us, ye demon!" Aidan shouted. "We've beat yer kind before and we'll do it now, ye ken?" The Scot railed in anger.
"Ah! Such vehemence! No need for it, gentlemen, no need. After all... I don't think it's fair to direct all your anger at me, when my friends want to play just as much, do you?" The mesmerizing voice trailed off meaningfully, as shadows came into existence all about the room. Pale faces, wrapped in dark clothing, surrounded the men.
Victor hissed, and whispered to Aidan. "There's almost two dozen!" Aidan had no reply, not sure how they would manage this one.
The leader of the pale men tittered with laughter as the two felt the dark shades move in on them, suffocating their freedom. "Now, I suppose your last thought will be regret on having nothing more than simple stakes to defend yourself, huh? A flamethrower would have been nice just about now, I bet! Vials of holy water? But no, you will just have to live, or better put, die, with your lack of knowledge. Stakes. I always laugh at that one!"
A new shadow fell from the overlook of the first floor, landing behind two of the closest forms moving in on the men from their rear. A blur of blue steel flickered through the flashing light as two heads rolled across the dance floor towards the central figure, the deceased bodies disintegrating into clouds of ash. Confusion clouded his face as he glanced up, not quite sure how this was achieved. A new human stood behind the others, a large, muscular man of perhaps 6' 2". His long black coat swung behind him like a cape as he twirled a massive battle axe up to face at the ready. The razor edges were gleaming in the uncertain light, traces of dark blood running down the flat sides.
"I don't use stakes." Jaym remarked, matter-of-factly, to the dismay of the suddenly troubled Vampire in the center of the room.
<continued, next>
A pause came in the battle, the ash of more than half the Vampires dusting the floor with grey powder, occasionally creating a pool of muck when it mixed with coagulated Vampire blood. The air was cloudy, thick with dust like pouring a fresh bag of cat litter, and the smell of decay was unmistakeable. The three men still stood near each other, the leader brandishing his axe with a speed unlike any the Vampire elder had seen before. Something about this one worried him, and gnawed at the back of his mind. So many years on this earth, and so many memories... sometimes things were not always clear.
"Tell me, hunter. What name do you go by? the elder queried, in a sing-song fashion. Perhaps the human would only be strong and quick, and not the smartest of his kind. The very wisest of beings knows that knowledge is the greatest power to posses.
"You may call me Death, for that is all you will know from me, demon." Jaym quipped, as he effortlessly sidestepped a seemingly lightning-fast black blur of an attack from his right flank and neatly whirled his axe into another killing blow. The disconnected head fell flat against the floor, a small spray of blood spraying into the air before settling into a stain on the carpet.
"Then, Death, let us send you home." the elder lost patience, signalling his brood to attack. As the battle engaged once more, he stood motionless in the center of the dancefloor, intently studying this mystery hunter. The elder was quite familiar with lore, and again with the hunters that so often felt compelled to hunt his kind down all over the world. He watched the flow of the battle, the effortless speed and strength of this foe, and let his mind search for the truth.
An agonizing scream broke his thoughts momentarily, as he saw one of the lesser men fall to an unseen attack, dead before they had hit the ground. He noted the reaction of the other lesser man, who turned to face his fallen friend. This caused his guard to drop momentarily, resulting in an instantaneous attack against his left arm, severing it at the elbow. The man released a sharp painful squeal, before managing to stake the vampire on him into a shower of ash and blood. The elder smirked at the lucky strike briefly before returning his stare to the larger threat.
The large man had not reacted to the death of his teammate, and had instantly moved into a defensive position over the second wounded member. The remaining vampires could not reach the wounded human to finish it off, and the few who got to close met a quick death by steel. The elder focused on the weapon, studying its design and markings. He watched the blood roll down its flat surface, triggering a memory in his mind.
...
About seventeen years ago he had been in Europe, a lesser member of a vampire nest terrorizing the local population of a moderate sized town. The brood was in the nest, sharing tales of victims and enjoying their time in a rowdy fashion. But talk diverted to that of a hunter bothering them in recent times, killing three of their number in the last month. Suddenly their elder spoke for the first time that evening. He dismissed the current hunter as a nuisance, nothing more than an amateur seeking his own death. Not a true hunter, he warned, one of they who had trained for it their whole lives.
"There is a hunter who has plagued the vampire community at every point in the world. No place is safe from this slayer. A formidible human, quite intelligent, stronger than most humans and quick as a cheetah. His weapon of choice is a large battle axe, metal so dense it seems infused in a deep blue tint. Edges sharp as a diamond. He has destroyed entire nests in a matter of minutes, sometimes with assistance, but often alone." The elder paused, glancing into the air as if travelling back to some point in the past. His eyes refocused, and he resumed his speech. "We have a name for him. We always have, for several thousands of years."
"Elder?", a lithe figure interrupted meekly, "If he is human how is this possible? Pardon my ignorance. I do not believe the humans live thousands of years- only we have the gift of immortality."
The elder had already begun nodding, anticipating this question. "Indeed. However, in each generation we have encountered a warrior mimicking the same battle technique. Despite different upbringing, nationality and appearance, we have histories of nests being destroyed by a hunter wielding a large battle axe as their only weapon."
"The soul of this human passes on through the generations, Elder?" a query came from the back of the room.
"No, nothing so mystical. We have learned of a secret order than exists, though we are uncertain of its name or origin. It is this order that trains these warriors each generation for a singular purpose- the destruction of vampires and demons. Despite being having no supernatural powers, do not underestimate these human warriors, my children. They are the most fearsome of enemies we might face in this world."
"Elder? What was this name you spoke of earlier?"
The elder nodded, and leaned back in his seat a touch. He gathered a deep breath before beginning. "The elders attempted to destroy this hunter order soon after the pattern emerged. 5000 years ago an ambush was launched against the existing slayer of that generation. The plan was infallible. The mismatch in sheer numbers alone was astronomical. Fifty full broods of vampires lie in wait surrounding a small hill in Ireland. The attack was launched instantly upon leading the hunter into a trap at the hilltop. Hundreds of vampires all working towards a common goal. The destruction of one single human man. The battle lasted roughly seven hours."
The elder vampire stood, and crossed the room. He kept his back to them for a moment, reflecting on the battle in his mind, unseen to the others and impossible to describe in words. He turned back to face them.
"Only a single handful of elder vampires escaped that battle alive. All reported seeing the same thing on that hilltop. The hunter stood, wounds flowing freely all over his body, bruises marring his flesh and skin scraped off in large globs. His clothes were completely stained in the unmistakeable deep red colour of vampire blood. Yet at the ready he stood, his axe held up before him.
The moon broke through the clouds at that point, illuminating the ash in a pale white glow as it lie scattered about his feet. The ash was a foot deep in some places." The elder took another deep breath. "But none of this is what the elders who survived recalled. It was the axe. You see, it was coated with layer upon layer of dried vampire blood. That steel blue metal had merged with the blood. It appeared as if it had been drinking the vampire blood- and it was glowing. A dull glowing in a colour all vampires fear to this day."
...
"Purple!" the elder stammered out loud. His eyes widened, suddenly very frightened as his memories rushed back to him in an overwhelming wave.
He looked up frantically, eyes refocusing on the hunter before him. "You... you are...", he stammered, panic filling his chest, freezing him in place. He had never felt this way in his very long existence.
"Jaym Avery Prince." came the steady reply from before him. "But you may call me Purpleaxxe."
The elder felt his a massive chill run along his spine. His mind raced before freezing on one thought alone. He was the last vampire alive.
And the Purpleaxxe was moving towards him.
<concluded, next>
Jaym knelt on the floor beside Victor, who had managed to stop most of the bleeding from his amputated arm with an impromptu tourniquet. He checked the bleeding was under control and looked into his friend's eyes.
"That was fun." Victor dryly commented, before coughing up some blood.
Jaym smirked at his friend. "Well fought. I'm sorry I couldn't get to you sooner. There were many more upstairs." He glanced to the bodies of Aidan and Thom, sighing.
"Now don't start blaming yourself, Jaym. You know it's the way the order works. Don't blame yourself. They knew the risks." V chastized, instantly recognizing the mental road his leader was travelling down. Jaym nodded absently, and returned his gaze to Victor.
"You know," V said, casually,"it never gets old when they realize who you are. I envy you the fear you strike in them."
"Victor."
"Yes?"
"Never envy me." Jaym stood, and began walking towards the door.
"Jaym- wait!" V shouted after him.
The large man paused, his black leather trenhcoat swirling between his legs as he turned his blue eyes back to his friend. "The order will be here soon. You'll be fine. Go heal."
"No, that's not it." Victor said, grimacing briefly as he shifted position. "I was going to ask where you're going- how can I find you?"
Jaym's eyes clouded over as he gazed into the nothingness before him for a moment. He snapped out of his reverie and turned towards the door again. He needed to continue on with his mission. He needed to go where he was needed most.
"I'll be in Paragon City," Purpleaxxe said.
________________________________
(end of story)
Since I was asked, yes, of course, please feel free to post commentary on this thread concerning this story.
I hope you enjoyed this character Origin!
(The short story above is an original creation of Druidblue. All names and characters above are fictional. Any resemblance or use of existing names is purely accidental. The name Purpleaxxe is protected by creative trademark. The name Jaym Avery Prince is protected by sales trademark. Neither are permissible to use in other media without my written consent! Thank you!)
The last rays of the sun finally blinked themselves into nonexistance as his watch alarm went off. He absent-mindedly swatted the off button with his mammoth right hand and reached back down to adjust the leather grip on the hilt of the large battle axe in his left hand. He glanced into the horizon at the skyline, and nodded to himself.
It was night. It was showtime.
"Let's go." his baritone voice steadily intoned, rumbling deep into the chests of those around as if they stood too close to a loud speaker. A group of three figures in his vicinity quickly formed up on his lead as he strode forward without hesitation. The furthest behind of the group glanced back down the dirt road to where they had been waiting. The black van they had arrived in was melting into the night around it, as if it had never existed and was nothing more than a trick of his eyes.
"Aidan, did you secure the van? You know we're in a world of hurt if the cops find that and shine flashlights in on a crapload of weapons." the straggler blurted worriedly.
"Aye, dinna worry Thom. 'Tis nothing fer wandering eyes ta see but ah handful a' tools an' ah flat tire inside." Aidan assured, from directly in front of him.
"Sure, so says you. You remember what happened in Minneapolis, right?" Thom retorted. "That was one hell of a mess to get out of, Aidan. We don't fight the cops, remember?"
"Quiet!" the man in front of them hushed. "Jaym said to keep the chatter down, didn't he? You two never listen. Neither did Jonny, and look what happened to him, huh? Shut up and focus!" he angrily warned, as he turned to resume following his leader.
Aidan shrugged at Thom and without saying another word, turned to follow the two in front. Thom quietly mumbled to himself. "Yeah, V, but why do you always have to bring Jonny back up?" He kicked a large rock out of the dirt in the road and began to tag along.
The group of four walked in silence up the road, following the uneven path as it wound its way upwards into a maw of darkness in the short distance.
"There." Jaym said, as he stopped without warning. "That's what we're looking for guys. Come on." He quickly strolled over to the black iron wrought gates at the edge of the road. He tested them, and noted they bore a very secure lock to bar them shut. He planted a foot on the bottom crossbar and quickly climbed up and over, landing on the other side. Without waiting for the rest of the team, he began to vanish into the wooded lot, last visible by a glimmer of moonlight off the sharp edge of the axe held at his side.
V and Aidan quickly followed suit as Thom stopped short, sighing. He planted the tip of his longsword into the dirt slightly, leaning the hilt against a plaque on the brick posts the gates were mounted on, and kneeled to tighten his bootlace. He stood back up and retrieved his sword, eyes never moving from the ornate bronze plaque. "Why does it always have to be this type of place?" he bemoaned, and proceeded to climb up and over the ebony gates. As he vanished into the dark after the others, the only remnant of their passing was some dirt from his boot marring the pristine surface of the plaque.
The plaque read "Detroit Memorial Graveyard".
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