To be baptized in blood was an ordinance not many could claim to have undergone.
The aroma saturated the air surrounding him. The face covering he wore and the bulletproof mask that covered his face and neck did little to suppress the pungent metallic scent and he, like his environment, was covered in the crimson.
The black-colored tactile attire he wore served to hide the color somewhat, Though the stiff and sticky texture of the fabric was proof enough of the carnage that he had inflicted. It was on this day that he served as the harbinger of death to a number of souls. He welcomed the inexplicable sense of peace that he felt at that moment.
Since early childhood, this had been his way of life. His skill and propensity for violence had preserved and sustained him over the years.
Having now defeated all hostiles at large, he took a moment to collect himself and reload his rifle, only to find that he had run out of ammunition. Upon this realization, he promptly slung his assault rifle over his shoulder and traded it out for his two most beloved daggers.
His powerful, towering frame stood alert with cool composure as he scanned his surroundings with a steady gaze. A still and eerie silence had washed over the room. Immediately, the hairs at the base of his skull stood to attention.
He turned to face the corridor to his left with taut drawn muscles and positioned himself to be ready to engage any potential threats.
A haunting moan reverberated from the direction he was facing in before silence fell over the room once again.
The tension that began to cloud the room was palpable. His low breathing and slow beating heart were the only audible sounds to be heard now as the seconds passed by. He stood motionlessly. Listening.
"Please!" a voice wailed in a broken exclamation.
The plea struck him. His countenance slightly darkened in response to it.
Though the man was an unrepentant killer, he took no joy in the suffering of those he believed were undeserving of it.
A static crackle sounded from the small intercom device that was secured to the harness he wore on his chest.
"Rawdog here. Closing in on the meeting point now. T-minus eight minutes until departure. Over."
The clock was ticking, but it didn't matter. His mind had been made. He would not leave until he was certain there were no survivors to be rescued from this hellhole.
The floor beneath his steel-toed leather combat boots bore streaks of red patterns and splotches. From above, the liquid dripped languidly from the ceiling above in a soft pitter-patter as he made his way across the large room.
It was then that the door of the fire escape was thrown open, forcefully hitting the wall adjacent to it with a loud slam.
"Jax, what in the God's names are you still doing down here?"
He instantly drew a throwing knife from its sheath and sent it flying toward the man who had been the cause of the abrupt commotion.
Having anticipated this reaction from him, the other man dodged the blade with impressive ease. A moment of silence passed as he let go of the door he had been previously holding open and allowed it to swing shut, resulting in another resounding crash.
"One of these days Malcolm I am going to kill you, and I will feel no remorse for doing so."
"Your thoughtfulness flatters me, though I must admit that I will feel no pity for you when you are killed in an hour because you failed to arrive at the roof in time for the departure," Malcolm replied nonchalantly. He continued,
"I came to the conclusion that you had either fallen deaf or dead. Did you not receive the message? We have less than six minutes now until our window closes."
"I am alive," Jax stated.
"Yes, I can see that."
Malcom occupied himself loading bullets into an empty magazine. Once loaded, he tossed the piece across the room to Jax.
"Since it would appear we are extending our stay here..."
In one fluid motion, he sheathed his daggers and caught the airborne object in one hand. His gaze remained fixed in a glare directed at his comrade as he did this.
He was without question partial to his daggers, though an assault rifle would make for a quick escape should any conflict arise. Malcolm was clearly thinking along the same lines, hence his offering, though at present he was not in any mood to express his gratitude towards the insufferable man.
Malcolm had no expectation to be thanked and placed his foot into the stirrup of his own weapon, a crossbow, and reloaded it hastily. Though Jax held superiority over Malcom, their history had allowed him certain liberties. Mutilation or death would be the most likely consequence for any other pack member if were to address Jax in such a manner.
"I hope you can forgive me for alarming you as I did just now. I shall be more mindful of your fragile nerves from now on," Malcolm promised, without looking up from his task.
Jax observed the subtle but readily apparent smirk on Malcolm's face and ignored his snide remark, snapping the magazine into place.
"There's a survivor this way," he informed him, gesturing with his gun in the direction of the hall.
Malcolm stared at Jax. He believed that if there were any lifeforms left, they were likely fanged, four-legged, and bloodthirsty.
"Have you been hallucinating?" Malcolm asked.
Before Jax replied, an ear-piercing scream rang out from down the hallway, followed by a string of sobs.
The initial vocalization bore an uncanny resemblance to the kind of howl an animal makes before submitting to its death at the hands of a predator.
What was even more disturbing was that this bone-chilling howl had a distinctively feminine and humanlike quality to it.
A look was exchanged between them. An unspoken agreement was quickly made as they began moving along the carcass-littered hallway before them.
They now had just over 4 minutes until their window closed.
Enemy reinforcements were likely to arrive at any minute now if they hadn't already. The two of them were both skilled and fearsome warriors, but they were soon to be greatly outnumbered.
They passed a doorway to their left in which a low and menacing growl followed after them, acknowledging their unwelcome presence.
Malcolm motioned for Jax to continue on without him before ducking down and rolling across the floor of the hallway. He crouched underneath a broken table at the end of the corridor, situating the body of his bow against his cheek, the tip of the arrow gleaming in the direction of the door frame.
Jax felt his heart begin to pound with slightly more force than before as he raced toward the only other room that remained. He didn't look back as the sound of an arrow being set loose whistled from behind him. A dull thud was followed by an angry snarl as the arrow hit its mark on the beast.
Coming to a stop in front of the doorway, he forcefully connected his heel with the wood with a firm kick. The door immediately gave way, creaking as it tilted back, meeting the floor with a crash.
Thick dust billowed upward as the door hit the ground, clouding his airways and irritating his eyes. Not letting this phase him in the slightest, he entered the dimly lit concrete-floored room with his gun at the ready. There was a small cage in the corner of the room that he locked his sights on immediately.
Stalking across the room and closing in on the target, he saw that, resting in a puddle of her own blood, was a small naked human curled into a fetal position.
Upon closer observation, he noted that the victim was an adult female, as he had suspected. Her skin was bloodied, bruised, and translucently pale where it was not colored with injury. She was disturbingly thin, her skin stretched tightly over the notches in her spine.
Her breathing was shallow, her visible rib cage trembled as it rose and fell in tandem with her strained respirations. All of this he had seen before, though it was what he beheld next that would haunt him in the days following.
The blood in which she lay had come from in between her legs, clutched to her bosom, something writhed with life and was thrashing against the cradle of her bony arms.
Of all the horrors and monstrosities he had witnessed in his life, this was undoubtedly one of the most abhorrent sites he had ever beheld.
The infant had a large pointed nose and protruding jaw, its face was snoutlike and wolfish in appearance with beady black eyes and clawlike fingernails. Its shoulders were hunched forward, and it was covered head to toe in coarse dark hair matted with blood and vernix.
The mouth harbored row after row of sharp, fully formed teeth that gnawed hungrily at his mother's breast. The female slowly opened her eyes, looking up at the man who stood before her. The golden amber color of her irises bore into his soul as she locked her eyes onto his. Her lips parted as if to speak to him, and he watched as the fire died out behind in the eyes that burned into him, her eyelids now too heavy for her to hold open slowly slid shut.
Something inside of him snapped. Fury like he hadn't felt in a very long time began to build up inside of him. He felt adrenaline begin to simmer in his veins, accompanying the emotion.
He lifted his gun and with fired it at the lock on the cage, the now unlocked door swung open.
Disturbed by the loud noise, the newborn mutant snarled and began to free itself from the woman's arms.
Umbilical cord still attached to its body, it crawled toward him and found his boot, growling as it bit into the thick black leather and began to thrash its head back and forth.
Jax was now faced with a grave decision. This creature irked him to his core, it was an abomination. His first instinct was to put it out of its misery, for it would likely grow up to be even more monstrous and violent than it was now.
He stared down at the pathetic little creature as it began to weaken its grip on his shoe. Its movements slowed as its growls began to quiet. The hideous and miserable thing then slowly turned onto its back as its arms and legs curled in towards its body. Becoming still, it stiffened, and its eyes glazed over.
A sharp, animalistic cry of pain sounded from the corridor, followed by a thud.
"Jax, we need to leave, now!" Malcolm yelled, his words echoing in Jax's eardrums as he stared down at the grim scene before him. Coming out of his daze, he sprung into action, seeing that the mother was still breathing. He crouched down and carefully gathered her into his arms. He sliced the umbilical cord and separated the now lifeless infant from its mother.
"I'm sorry," he murmured to no one in particular. Malcolm's hurried footsteps approached, heavy footsteps hammering toward him.
"JAX!" Malcom bellowed, Desperation in his voice.
The female stirred in his arms, inhaling shakily as she opened her eyes again, looking up at Jax one more time before fluttering shut.
Do people still do author's notes on Wattpad? lol
I'm so out of touch, it has been SO LONG
Too long !!
I'm so glad to be back, and I am so happy to have any who enjoys this story be here with me as well. Once again I would like to express the overwhelming gratitude I have for everyone who has been a part of this journey with me over the years. Thank you. Honest god would not still be writing if it wasn't for you guys.
For the full original 2017 version of "Alpha Jax" you can download the app "Inkitt" and read it for FREE! Please use the link in my bio on my profile if you are able, as it helps to support me and my writing. PM me if you have any problems finding the link or if you have any questions. :)
- Jo