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| The Child of Seras |
| by MindAsylum |
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The Child of Seras Chapter XIV continued His father, “Worthless little pup!” The whispers echoed over and over until the sound of his own pulse drowned them out. The searing pain the flowed through every capillary burned hotter now that ever before, but no longer sourceless, shooting pain, but as a need, as an instinct denied for far too long. Suddenly, as the backs of his eyes burned in time with his heart, Jake had an answer for the vampire who held him by his throat, ready to tear his heart out with her bare hand. He wasn’t afraid. He was hungry. Just as the vampire began her killing stroke, Jake’s hand, all on its own, grabbed its wrist like it was nothing but a child reaching for a cookie. He twisted and pulled, ripping off its arm at the elbow. A noise, like a splintering tree, resounded through the tunnel, followed by a shrill scream. One of the bones in her forearm was still there, left to dangle like a broken wing. The vampiress pulled back, still screaming , perhaps more out of shock than pain, and Jake found it agreeable to his ears, like the first on-key note he ever struck.It looked up at him, nursing its stump, confused and horrified, making the face of a little girl who just got slapped by her mother for the first time. It growled, more to the air than to him, and turned away to run, but Jake wouldn’t have that. Not at all. He picked up his sidearm, a custom pistol that fired 50 caliber rounds, and blew off its kneecaps with two successive shots. She collapsed to the floor and Jake walked over, as it she frantically tried to crawl on arms and broken legs to the station, to the dark, to anywhere that was safe. Food. That’s all she was to Jake now. That’s all the people on the train had been to her: something to satisfy a need, a fix that would be taken from, discarded, and forgotten like a used syringe. And by the terror in her eyes as she looked up at him, his hand around her throat, she knew it. That’s all Jake wanted now. The people she had killed tonight and countless other could not be helped, but if Jake could make her understand what she’d wrought upon them, even for just a moment before her demise, then it was the only solace he could take in this mission, the only compensation he could offer for his failure. He never smiled. He never laughed at her pain. Even while his eye glowed blood red his face did not so much as twitch. That would have been too much like Alucard. Instead, he just looked down at her in disgust, like something he’d scraped off his shoe, letting her wallow in her own powerlessness, just as she had done to the victims he so desperately wanted to save. Jake held her by her matted, greasy hair, tore the collar off her shabby, stained turtleneck and buried his jaws in her neck, moving back and forth, the way a dog might tear the meat off its kill. The blood was foul; sour and the texture was watery, but he’d endure it a thousand times if he could remind this abomination of the raw, primal fear that being undead had made it so easy to forget. Corporal Braxton led the small, five-man squad toward the sound of the screaming. He’d have liked to get to the scene sooner, but given that those sounds probably meant the target was distracted, he didn’t want to waste an opportunity to get the drop on it. The ladyvamp had said that the new kid had gone toward this area to check on survivors. It was more likely he was just using that as an excuse to avoid action, as there was only a fifteen percent chance that the vamp would be in this area. No matter. Hellsing had done just fine with and without help from the same abominations it was sworn to destroy, and if the kid wimped out enough times, who knows? Integra might get wise and put him back on the chopping block where he belonged. Twenty more yards and the screams died down to a slow gurgle. Braxton turned the corner, holding up his hand for the others to hang back until he could get a visual. He peeked around the corner and saw a dark figure with a woman between his teeth. He gave the signal. Jake dropped the dried out corpse and crushed its head underneath his heel. His rage began to cool, and before the weight of his actions could begin to settle over him, he heard a familiar click. He turned his head, and saw a flash of light. The word “contact!” was shouted by a familiar voice. He smelled something burning, and when his brain registered what had happened, he realized it was coming from quarter-sized hole in his gut. Three flashes of light, three more holes, two in his chest, one searing across his cheek, ripping it open to expose his now-razor sharp teeth. And to think this day had started out so well. He lost count somewhere around six, until someone finally shouted “stop!” But by then he was already on the floor, bleeding far more than he would have without his “meal.” He felt sure he was dying , was almost convinced of it, but a voice kept telling him otherwise. “Hold, on, kid!” said Mick frantically from over him, pausing to curse loudly after his third glance at his wounds, “You’ll be alright, just hold on!” He thought of Seras, about the one, simple thing she asked of him. I failed, he thought, for the second time that night.
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