Anne's words echoed in your thoughts as you looked up at the banshee before you, as you asked yourself why you would want to run away from this thing. You could see something perfectly adapted for hunting in urban enviroments, something that slumbered in the river during the day and came out at night. It was spindly, with long arms and legs that would have allowed it to effortlessly climb atop buildings - much like it had done so to jump down infront of you, blocking your way back into the safer parts of the city.
Something about this had you mentally try to stop yourself, to pause in your tracks so you could better figure out what was it was about this entire situation that struck you as off. You couldn't stop though, you could see and feel yourself continue to approach this thing as you struggled mentally, as you screamed at yourself to stop, to think, to work this situation out before you acted. It dawned on you that the reason that you couldn't do so, was because this thing was truly a well adapted hunter, that it wasn't just deadly, but cunning too.
You were mesmerised by it, you were unable to act of your own free will as its gaze, fixed on you as it was, was keeping you enraptured. You struggled as you enacted a state of mental rebellion, fighting against the hypnotic gaze of the creature before you as your pace faltered, slowed, then came to a stop. You stood poised before the creature as you stared it down, as you stared into those eyes intently, as the gaze that you had previously been enraptured by was suddenly averted.
The banshee was aware that you had broken its hold over you, that you were staring it down now and it was shifting, sizing you up as it reassesed you. You would have reached for your gun then and there had it been in your possession, you would have put a bullet in the head of this thing that went bump in the night. You would have killed it before it could possibly decide to lash out, as self defence against this predator.
As it was, all you could do was stare it down, as you knew that backing away would be seen as a sign of weakness, that it would pounce and be atop you before you could get five feet. You knew that even worse would be to turn and run, to expose your back to this thing so it could strike while you were defenceless.
You stood alert and ready, doing your best to seem larger than life to this creature as it reared up, as it opened its mouth and let out a terrible and screeching howl.
Before you could react you were bowled over, a blow catching you from the side in the darkness as this thing struck with blinding speed, talons grazing over your ribs as you felt that initial blow draw blood. You could feel the sticky warmth of your blood soaking into the fabric of your shirt as you rolled over, as you hopped back to your feet.
The thing before you let out a chittering sound, almost sounding pleased with itself as it took a few unsteady steps to keep the middle of the path blocked. It was taunting you, playing with you, holding an upright position that it wasn't comfortable with because it was mocking you, showing that it could beat you on your own terms.
An overhead strike came this time, the glistening reflection of this things skin in the moonlight, along with that clumsy stance giving you enough time to catch it, to step back just enough to ensure that its talons struck stone instead of flesh. Even as it did this your foot darted out, prompting a howl of agony from the banshee as you stamped on what resembled fingers, as the sound of bones crunching, snapping underfoot was briefly heard.
It was fast to pull its wounded hand back, hissing as it sank down once more to all fours, as its uninjured hand flicked forward, before swiping upwards.
Despite your best efforts to evade this you felt those wicked talons catch you, gouging deep furrows into your chest as they impacted against your ribs. It was a glancing blow, betraying just how powerful this spindly creature was as its talons flicked up from your chest, slashing up over the side of your face as its hand was drawn back. The sound of blood splattering over the paving stones filled your ears briefly as you staggered back, as you clutched your chest with one hand. You could feel the stinging pain of those wounds intensely, you could feel the flow of blood as it soaked in to what remained of your now torn shirt.
The thing chittered again, mouth opening as it started pacing towards you lazily, clearly assuming that you were injured enough that it could play with you, that it could devour you. You let out a blood curling scream in response as you dived forward, delivering a stunning right hook as the thing froze. As it staggered from that hook you delivered a heavy jab with your left hand, followed by bringing both hands together as you delivered an overhead blow to the top of its head.
The thing screeched as it skittered backward rapidly, that you took as a chance to duck into the nearest alley way, clutching your chest as you cursed silently. You'd gotten seperated from Anne and Joy, though this was probably for the best, as this thing would be following you instead of them. Slate rooftops clattered and clicked as the sound of the banshee giving chase echoed down the alley way, as you zig-zagged through the narrow alley's in an attempt to shake this thing.
Your efforts slowed its pursuit at best, preventing it quite catching up with you as you felt yourself slowly fading. You were bleeding heavily and wouldn't be able to staunch the flow on the move like this, you were wounded and this thing was infuriated. You were going to have to think fast. You knew that when you had your back to the wall like this that you were at your most dangerous, that you made your worst mistakes, yet you knew that you also had your greatest victories.
It was a time where you had felt your back was to the wall like this, in what you had provided the means for the Clockworkers to set their guardians into action. It was times like this that you had overcome your greatest challenges. It was times like this, you had your greatest failures. You needed to remain focused, you needed to be ready for anything, you needed to be at your best.
You cursed as this thought gave way to the realisation that this was possibly the end of the road as you barreled out of the alley way and into an open street. The screech of the banshee filled the air as it vaulted from the rooftop, the slimy mass of that creature slamming into your back as it knocked you from your feet. As you slammed into the paving slabs you realised that this thing didn't have much mass, that it was a lightweight creature, that you were winded at best where a heavier creature would have knocked you unconscious doing this.
Before it could react your head jerked backwards, slamming against its face, roughly where its nose would have been. Howls of agony filled your ears as you felt it recoil, as you rolled it from atop your back, the pair of you a tangle of limbs as it attempted to hold you. You managed to get atop it, turning face to face as you pinned it down beneath you, as you grabbed its head with both hands and slammed its head against the stone beneath it forcefully.
You were barely able to keep your grip as the oily skinned creature thrashed beneath you, howling in agony as you pulled its head up, then slammed it down again. the thing was stunned, and your attention quickly shifted to a rusted metal spike that lay nearby, one that looked like it had been stolen from the railroad tracks and abandoned here. It was a poor weapon, but it was a weapon none the less.
You raised the spike above your head as you tensed, preparing to drive the improvised weapon into that things head, as the things eyes fixed on your own for a brief moment as fear flashed through them. It recognised that intent in your eyes, it saw that you were about to deal a mortal wound to it.
It wasn't ready to give in.
You gasped in pain, coughing up blood as the spike slipped from your hand, clattering against the ground behind you as you looked down, reaching in disbelief to push at the talons that you could see protruding from your chest now. You felt yourself sailing through the air briefly as the thing issued a flick of its long arm, dislodging you from its talons as it flung you away from it, sending you sprawling into the middle of the street.
You were barely able to roll onto your back, clutching at your chest as you felt blood pooling beneath you. The banshee moved towards you cautiously, staring at you for a long moment as it watched you lay there, the sound of your heavy breathing breaking the silence of the night.
You were uncertain how long it stared at you for, how long it watched you lay there, yet it seemed uncertain, unwilling, afraid. It must have been afraid to step in and deal what it thought would be the finishing blow as it still hurt from your earlier assault on it. You could feel yourself growing numb as you continued to bleed rapidly from your wound, your breathing slowing as colour slowly drained from the world.
Yet the banshee still stood by.
As colour fled from the world, time seemed to slow to a crawl as the clouds creeping across the night sky froze in place, as the slow breathing of the banshee seemed to crawl, then stop. It was like the world had frozen, colourless, at the point of what should have been your death. You had experienced this before, you had many experiences with what should have been your last moment. Sometimes it was an out of body experience, sometimes it was a moment of revalation, insight into the problem you faced. Sometimes, it was followed by sleep as you recovered, other times it was devoid of it as you remained away through the entire time it took you to recover.
This time, you felt almost as if you were dreaming, as pain fled you and the world felt oddly surreal in that colourless state. The only colour you could see was the brilliant red of your blood as it became all the more pronounced, as brilliant as if illuminated by a summers day.
This time there was no moment brilliance, no moment of insight in how to overcome this challenge.
This time, this moment seemed to drag on endlessly.
Footsteps broke the silence, seeming to approach from all around as you glanced this way and that, yet nothing but the dark street you had collapsed in was visible, nothing but the brilliant red of your blood, nothing but the motionless form of the banshee. At least that was, until you turned back towards the banshee, to see that it had been replaced by a man who seemed to glow ever so briefly with vibrant colours, colours that hugged the outline of his figure.
The man was pale and dark haired dressed in a well tailored waistcoat, shirt and trousers, with shoes that looked too clean for him to have been walking the streets of London.
"Who are you?" You asked, struggling for a moment to sit up, as you felt your body refuse to respond as you realised you could barely move anything below your neck. The figure didn't response at first, instead moving to crouch beside you, shaking his head slowly as he took note of your injuries. "I asked-" you started, though the man was fast to silence you, lifting a finger as he motioned for you to be silent.
"Amnesia, heavy blood loss, one lung punctured, lacerations to the face and chest and no colours, no soul. You're in quite the state sir, do you understand what this all means?" he asked, tilting his head slightly as he did so.
"How do you know this, just who are you?" You asked, narrowing your eyes as you did so.
"You pose quite the conundrum to a banshee, you realise?" the figure continued, waving one hand dismissively as he did so. "It will only eat once its prey has died, yet you hover at the border of death, defying it. A lot of immortals do that, that's where I come in typically. If one is required, destined to cease to be, I possess the means, the knowledge to ensure such."
"You're here to kill me?"
"Heavens no, sir, I'm here to give you a friendly reminder that-"
"You haven't told me your name yet," you interrupted, prompting a sigh from the figure as he went to continue. "What is your name?" you interrupted again, hissing at him this time as you made it clear that you were not going to allow him to continue until you knew that what you wanted to.
"Very well, sir," he paused, taking a breath as he began to smile. "I am known by many names, some of them flattering and some of them not. I am the ripper, the reaper, the killer, the sleeper, the bastard, the butcher, the widow maker and more. I stalk the streets and cleanse it of whores. While my personality and actions you may wish to attack, please remember, just call me Jack."
You stared blankly as this almost lyrical outburst came from the man.
"Everyone's a critic," he sighed, shaking his head as his smile faded. "Now, as I was saying, I have a friendly reminder for you-"
"That's sick you know, making light of your actions in such a manner," you butted in, prompting another sigh from Jack.
"Sir, could you just bear with me for a minute longer?" he asked, prompting a slight nod from you. "Thank you," he muttered, before he started to speak once more. "Now, I'm here to deliver a friendly reminder, I'm working on the final solution to this entire mess and I would greatly appreciate it if you were considerate enough to avoid stepping on my toes while I do so."
"The final solution?"
"Yes, the final solution," he stated, as if it was supposed to mean something to you, before he made a sweeping gesture. "Now, why don't you close your eyes and make a wish. Maybe it'll come true."
You stared blankly at him once more.
"Please?"
You muttered to yourself as you slowly closed your eyes, figuring that you had nothing to lose at this point by trying what he had asked of you. You could feel the dull ache of your wounds as pain started to flood back, your eyes opening to see the world bearing colour once more, to see the banshee waiting expectantly for you to pass on so it could eat. Above all you told yourself, right now you wished you weren't in this entire mess.
A figure flew overhead, having no doubt dived from a nearby rooftop, impacting weightlessly against the banshee as it recoiled in shock, as something fluttered down in the darkness, settling atop your nose. You went cross eyed as you did your best to look at it, as you found yourself wondering if it was as it seemed to be, nothing more than...
Straw?
Your attention snapped to the banshee that was rapidly vanishing under a sea of bodies, screeching as it impotently lashed out against the straw mass that had pinned it down. You could hear the sound of flesh tearing, of bones popping out of place, of ichor splashing over paving stones out of sight.
Your heart raced as you watched the thrashing of the banshee subside, as the mound of tattered clothing and straw dispersed, turning towards you, allowing you to see the individual scarecrows as ichor dripped from their ill defined faces.
As the scarecrows advanced you shuffled backward, leaving a smear of blood in your wake as you quickly found yourself up against a wall. Backed to the wall you could do little as the scarecrows surrounded you, as they leaned inwards, bones stripped clean visible behind them as the stench of the creature came from them. The stench of that river creature, of ichor all about you as it became all too much for you.
Your brief screams of terror must've been heard for miles through the city as you lashed out weakly at the surrounding group, before the effort of this became too much for your weakened body and consciousness fled you.
End of Part Three
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Topic: They told me I could be anything... (Read 79013 times)