Path of the Dead - Working Title

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

The man started to laugh in a light maniacal kind of way, "You don't understand what I'm saying: It wasn't an option or a request. He is going to die." He took three steps before one of Zahariel's men stepped forward to try and attack him.

"No, don't touch--!"

Before the warning was finished, the thug went to hit him with his baseball bat when the man rolled around the swing as some kind of counter and then bit down into the man's throat and ripped it out.

He proceeded to take three more mouthful bites out of the man before looking back at Zahariel, "Care to sacrifice anymore of your men?" He stood up, but before he stepped forward he ripped the head off the man he had just killed, and for what it looked like, the bullet holes he had appeared to be slowly healing. His smile grew bigger and now a pair of sickly golden eyes were glowing under the hood. He heard the movement of one of the other thugs slid a foot forward, getting ready to attack and shot a look at the thug, but not only was that one thug froze, but everyone was frozen from the malice that was dripping from the glare and the "aura" of Death began to quickly spread across the courtyard.

Zahariel pushed his fear and unease aside. He had a job to do, and that was to keep Benjamin King safe, nothing else mattered to him anymore. He gripped his machete and gave the order, "Men, push everything aside and kill him. We have a job to do and that's what we're going to do."

It was obvious that everyone was still scared out their ass, but the speech did enough to get them moving again. They got ready, all gripping their weapons, hoping that these were going to be enough to take that kind of beast on without losing too many of their brothers.

"NOW!"

As all of the thugs went in to attack, the man simply smiled at their stupidity, "You fools." He took one step into the crowd and the last time Zahariel saw this much being spilled by one man was...was...there was no other man who spilled this much blood on their own.

Zahariel this time was the one who was frozen as he watched his men get slaughtered by this...man? No...not a man. A man wouldn't have the stomach to shed this much blood in such a quick amount of time. No, this was no man, but simply a thing, a Monster. TO the best of his ability, he called to his snipers, "SNIPERS, OPEN FIRE!"

The Snipers never could get a clear shot, but they were given the order and they knew that there was going to never be a clear shot, so they opened fire hoping that they wouldn't be responsible for any of their deaths.

The stranger, though his movements were sloppy, irregular and uncomfortable, managed to avoid the sniper fire, allowing the rounds to pierce through their comrades. He ducked under a shot, coming right under another thug and uppercuts them, but not with the standard closed fist, but his fingers were extended and closed together, and as he went to uppercut them, instead his finger sliced through their chin, slicing the front portion of their skull clean off, and as the sliced skull fell to the ground, the rest of the body went into the air from the force of the hit. He continued to somehow stay unnaturally close to the ground, making it impossible for the snipers to get a bead on him, making them completely useless.

Zahariel knew that the snipers were no longer able to take a shot at him, and had to resort to something a bit more drastic than he was wanting to do. He aimed his pistol and fired into the group, aiming closer to the ground, knowing that's where this...thing is. He fired the first round.

The pain was dull, almost like it had been there for years as the bullet passed through his leg. He knew the shot was almost blind and was supposed to slow him down, but he didn't slow down. The pain was nothing to him as he ducked under another swing from a thug and ripped their arm off and used it to impale another one, pinning them into the ground. He knew that another shot was coming, but didn't know exactly when or where. He happened to look through the crowd when he saw Zahariel a few feet away from the crowd, and quickly changed directions: To kill the snake, you had to cut off the head. Even though he knew that Benjamin King was the Real head of the snake, this snake head was currently the one commanding these troops.

Zahariel was about to take a second shot when he suddenly caught sight of the stranger changing direction, and was heading directly for him. He reacted as fast as he could and shot off three more rounds, but what froze him in place from moving was the fact that he watched as all three rounds struck him in his neck, sternum and his left leg, but not only did that not kill him, but he wasn't even slowed down. As the stranger got inches from him, that's when his body allowed him to move again, but he knew it would be enough time and that he was finished. Even though he accepted his fate, he still did what he did to try and keep the damage at a minimal.

The flesh of his target felt nice between his fingers and their blood felt nice on his skin. As he dashed past Zahariel, he slid to a stop a few feet behind him but remained in his low-to-the-ground stance, waiting for his chance to get another strike, hopefully one that would prove to be fatal. He licked the bloody debris off of his hand and his grin grew a bit bigger, "Looks like you're not as good as you thought."

"I'm just getting used to you." He tried to laugh it off but the three inch open gash in his side told him otherwise and the pain caused him to wince at the pain, "Just give me a couple more minutes and I'll figure you out." This time, Zahariel dropped his handgun and retrieved his machete, "Now, let's have some fun, you son of a bitch."

Both individuals charged at each other at once and both made their attack and stopped, in the same style as the samurai back in Feudal Japan. Blood erupted from both of their wounds, but only one fell.

Zahariel dropped to one knee, planting his machete into the ground to keep him from completely falling over for as long as he could hold his consciousness as his blood flowed from his jugular vein, "Damn...and here I thought...I was actually going to last longer than...this." His consciousness finally faded and he fell to the ground as his blood continued to soak the ground.