NIGHTSHIFT 42: MAGUS PARK
The shift was familiar enough, in it's own way, but it came too soon. He wasn't sure if any of the others in the group aside from Stefan had been around long enough to witness this before, but he wanted to reassure them that this was just like the changes the institute underwent at night
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Sanzo moved quickly, calmly despite the chaos. He was armed, even if the bullets were limited down to just those rounds in the chamber, but it was better than nothing. He just need to keep a cool head. It was a matter of survival, but conserving ammo at the same time. It wasn't like he'd never fought to survive before. The only different here was that a single bullet probably wouldn't put one of them down, and that these things weren't smart. The intelligence issue was what made people dangerous. Assassins with brains or even half of one presented more of a threat in his eyes. It opened up the way to creativity, which meant unpredictability in Sanzo's eyes, which lead to all sorts of potential ways to get screwed over. These things were just persistent.
The creatures - they'd all ceased being people to him at this point - were out in full force: all in varying stages of decomposition, some missing limbs, other missing organs. The walking dead.
He instantly made his way towards the park.
A wide open area like the park would be a good starting place. He'd have preferred a rooftop, somewhere with controlled access points, but that also had its drawbacks. A rooftop meant you could get easily trapped up there, especially if shit went down and things went south. That controlled access point could be a death sentence under these conditions.
A shadow crossed his path up ahead. Sanzo shifted to press against a tree. Human, judging from the way he moved, or he was one of the ones in the earliest stages of decay...
There was a soggy groan at his back. Sanzo jerked. One of the things had come up behind him, hands reaching for him. The monk flinched back, and brought the butt of the gun down hard on the creature's skull. Hard enough to give someone a concussion or possibly kill them, he wasn't expecting what happened next. The thing's skull caved, as easily as a wet bag. The thing went down.
Despite his experience, a wave of revulsion swept through him. Sanzo swallowed down the hint of bile coming up. There was something just wrong about fighting things like this. The smell, the fragile feel of the decaying body, the dead eyes. Another shudder of disgust.
He looked at the gun. There were bits of brain tissue on the butt. Sanzo swore viciously, and shook it off.
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Ah ...his roommate.
The man wasn't fairing any better than he had been, battling several of the undead. He watched as Sanzo ripped through the skull of another one, the skin caving away so easily to reveal even more rotting flesh underneath and a smell that made bile rise in the back of his own throat. He swallowed it down and ignored the vague memories of being on the battlefield again, surrounded by the corpses of millions of his own dead comrades. They had all been mangled and shred apart, their organs spilling out of their bodies. What he remembered most were their wide-eyed vacant stares, robbed of all emotion they had carried with him when they had first set their foot on the grass that morning.
He pushed away the visuals just as quickly as they had come and tightened his fingers around the blade in his hand before striking out at one of the approaching zombies, slicing through its neck. Without a proper sword, he couldn't go all the way through his neck and had to slash at the rotting flesh repeatedly until he decapitated the zombie entirely. There was a squelching noise as his blade sank deeper, cutting away at all the decay.
"Enjoying your evening thus far?"
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At the sound of a patient's voice, Sanzo looked up, right as the creature closest to him went down.
Takasugi. He wasn't surprised to find he'd survived the nightshifts, or that he was surviving on his own out here. The man had the instincts and tenacity of a feral dog. The monk's eyes drifted down, to the blood and gore stained knife in his hands. Somehow he'd gotten himself armed, and quickly.
There was a faint hint of scorn in his voice. "I don't get off on killing."
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The stench was even more acrid with the amount of corpses increasing around them. Takasugi stared at the body with vague disinterest before returning his attention back to the monk.
"You make it sound as if I do."
The assumption wasn't too off the mark. A life time on the battlefield had made him too blood thirsty and overly desensitized to death and carnage. The sight of children and women being slaughtered before him no longer fazed him. Not after the atrocities he'd faced while the Amanto had been on their rampage. He took all those things he used to fear and despise and had twisted them into his own personal desires just so he could look his enemies in the eye as he plucked their hearts out.
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Sanzo took the moment to take a small breather and touch his forearm. Four sets of bloody trails down it, deep, and tenderness around the wrist. The thing had nearly broken his wrist before it'd let go. For being dead, they had an unnatural strength about them. Maybe it was becausae they'd no longer had any real survival instincts or the limitations that came with it. No sense of self-preservation, no pain, which meant zero fear and a higher strength if there wasn't any fear of breaking bones or tearing muscle at this point.
Maybe he'd misjudged. They might not have the brains, but there was plenty going for them that made them dangerous. And just his luck, the creatures weren't the only thing he had to worry about now. Now he had to keep an eye on Takasugi.
"I know you do," Sanzo said. He gingerly touched the wounds. The skin around the wrist was suspiciously tender. "All this anarchy, chaos, killing? It's right up your alley."
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Getting out of here wouldn't be easy. That was for sure. He would have to move faster and avoid anymore of those run-ins. One or two- he could defeat on his own, but if they tried to swarm him, he probably wouldn't escape unscathed.
He eyed the wound on Sanzo's arm, impressed that they had managed to get close enough to harm him. It looked like it was pretty deep, and he wasn't acquainted enough with the creatures to know if they were venomous.
"You're assuming too much of me," he replied after a moment, his eye surveying the area again, "I obviously had no part in this, nor do I enjoy being the victim in this situation."
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He hadn't peg the man as having a sense of humor, but apparently there was a twisted one buried in there. Takasugi'd compared himself numerous times to a wild animal with a taste for blood, and when was there much reasoning involved in a feral's mindset, outside of self preservation? Maybe this wasn't his doing, but who was to say he didn't enjoy the carnage anyway?
The monk tore a strip from his shirt and wound the makeshift bandage around the wound. It was awkward, but he managed to tie it off, tightly. It wouldn't do much towards healing the wound, just hopefully stem the blood flow enough and prevent the blood from getting in the way. It'd have to do until for now.
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The institute wouldn't just rest here when they had the rest of the night to send their forces against him, and considering the amount of patients held captive, their forces would have to be exceedingly large to take care of all of them.
"So easy to cast accusations without knowing anything. I thought a monk would be more perceptive than that. I'd rather this carnage come from my hand then be turned against me. Killing the undead has no worth to me. They're not the ones I desire revenge against.
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"Stop bullshitting. You said it yourself, you just like to kill," Sanzo said flatly. When did he need much of a reason? Of course, Takasugi'd like to be the source: sowing fear and confusion amongst people went hand in hand with that taste for blood. Terrorists claimed that they had some message, but he'd pegged it shit. There were other ways to get a message across, and terrorists only resorted to it because they also had a taste for the violence and death they created. The excuse was just that. An excuse.
Takasugi admitting to that didn't exactly set Sanzo at ease or make him think any better of him.
Maybe he didn't get the same feeling off killing these things. They weren't exactly alive. Maybe he just preferred to have a mind, actual fear behind those eyes when he did make a kill.
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He was neither the kind of man to allow anyone to put out whatever fires raged inside of him. His ambitions weren't so easily quelled, and he refused to accept death at their hands.
"What is there to enjoy from these creatures? They don't bleed when you cut them. Their nerve endings have already decayed." His eye remained focused on Sanzo as he absently ran his finger over the blade, demonstrating the lack of blood on it. "Why do you suddenly seem so interested in my killing habits? Didn't I already tell you? I only aim for my enemies, and you are not one of them."
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Takasugi was also decidedly armed now. Doubly dangerous.
Here he was allowed to run as free as he wished. The monk'd seen enough of the man's nature to make a judgement. Sanzo didn't like the thought of him running around unchecked. He was dangerous. He was about as clean as Gonou was. The only difference was Gonou'd accepted their justice, realized he'd committed crimes and actually cared.
"Your word is about as trustworthy as any other criminal," Sanzo pointed out. "I'm sure you've fed the same bullshit to your partners before you turned your sword on them."
That last was a shot in the dark. A terrorist probably didn't work alone: there was only so much one could do on his own. Takasugi hadn't made any real indication if he was the type to build loyalities or try and fly solo.
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Even if Takasugi self-proclaimed himself to be nothing more than a beast himself out for blood, he had control over his own actions. He knew which battles to fight and which ones to save for another day. That was why he had yet to turn his sword seriously against the Shiroyasha and Katsura, even though they'd been proving themselves to be a growing threat to his plans. Of course, some of his men had suggested otherwise -that he was still "attached" to them and refusing to cut down those delicate strings that linked him, but they didn't understand what the three of them had gone through.
In some respects, they were the only living reminders he had of Shoyou-sensei. They still carries his words in their minds even if they no longer listened or followed through on them. Were he to suddenly slice away that clear voice...
Takasugi's hand tightened on the blade, his smile starting to fade. "If I turned my blade against any of my allies, it's because they have diverged from our path. This is no longer a world where a man can rely on others and call them a comrade without expecting to be betrayed."
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Takasugi's look had chilled noticeably, dropping that aura of friendliness (the monk wasn't even sure he'd call it that) he normally put on. Sanzo must've touched a few nerves. Was he actually affected by what Sanzo saw as just stating the obvious? He'd count himself as surprised if there was a the tiniest hint of self-righteousness in there. Maybe there had to be for a terrorist.
Whatever. He had no illusions that they'd ever work together, or that Takasugi was even an innocent bystander in all this. He might not be the source or even connected to all the bullshit going down in Landels, but he was a danger.
Low moans broke the air. Sanzo glanced over, regarding the park for a moment.
He was beginning to rethink this area as a good place to last the night. He could see the ground breaking, more corpses lurching up further up. Was the entire damn town built over a cemetary? At this rate he'd be surrounded again. He couldn't fight like this all night, not at the rate they were coming up. It was time to change plans, hole up in one of the buildings.
The monk turned to leave, but not before giving Takasugi one last look.
"I haven't said anything new," Sanzo said coolly. "You say you're nothing more than an animal one moment, then try and act like a man the next. Pick one."
[Headed over here]
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