Chapter 7: Intermission One

The stench of burning meat wafted up his nose, the cadaver at his feet crackling, live embers cooking the dead skin black. The Jackal’s stock of meat was always fresh, and well worth the price. Though now having a better idea of where it came from, Jakob doubted he would ever buy from him again.

Rubbing sweat from his forehead, Jakob rummaged through patched pockets, pulling out his pocket watch, its once shimmering surface now completely rusted. The scav had found it in the dumps, thrown down from the surface, needing to replace only a single spring to get it back in working order. It had been a miracle, far as Jakob was concerned, but one miracle occurring meant that another one could as well. Driven by the high of such a rare find, he hadn’t questioned it when the woman in red came to him.

Shockingly pretty, her complexion like alabaster and her full head of hair sparkling silver under the florescent lights, he hadn’t questioned her instructions. “Find the Jackal. Show him this,” is all she’d said, handing him an iron coin before disappearing into the shadows.

Emblazoned upon the coin was a crude depiction of claws grasping what looked like a heart. Finding Jackal had been the easy part. Convincing the madman not to kill him on sight was always the challenge with his clients. Make your case quick, or risk becoming part of his stock.

Jakob shivered at the thought, the ticking of his watch focusing him.

3:48.

Shouldn’t be long now, he thought, though he had no reason to think such a thing. He glanced down at the burning body, the sight becoming almost too much for him to handle. Turning from the body, he examined the warehouse he’d been directed to. It had been long abandoned. Derelict, like everything down in the slums.

Upon showing the Jackal the red woman’s coin, almost fumbling it as the butcher came with his cleaver, the madman had stopped. Looking but never touching it, the Jackal had decided it was authentic, and stalked over to a freezer in the back of his shop. Jakob had been expecting to get a cut of meat – why else would he be there, after all? – but sputtered as he pulled out the freshly-slain body of a human. There was a deep gash just above their collarbone, eyes still wide from shock. They had seen their death coming.

The Jackal had handed Jakob the body, giving his instructions in terse grunts. “Warehouse seventeen. Place the body... under the broken window... burn it. Wait there. You’ll know when... your initiation has begun.”

Initiation. Jakob hadn’t thought to ask for further details, wanting to be away from the butcher as quickly as possible, but the Jackal’s last words set off alarms. “So why did I come here?” Because I wanted to know, he thought. Wanted to know why the red woman had come to him, and what this was all about. Because, honestly, it was something to do besides scrounging through trash heaps for trinkets to pawn off.

Jaw clenching, Jakob turned back to the body, smoke rising in crackling plumes. The hair on the back of his neck stood, a foul smell different from the corpse filling the warehouse. I should leave, he decided, striding for the exit.

Scritch scritch scritch.

Jakob stopped, ears straining against the oppressive silence surrounding him.

Scritch scritch scritch.

Running up the wall. A rat?

Scritch scritch scritch bang bang.

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No, too big. On the roof now.

Bang bang bang.

The initiation. It had started.

Jakob spun on his heel, head following the banging along the rooftop.

Heading for the window, claws scraping against old metal.

“Oh no,” he breathed, boney arms slithering through the broken window.

Webbed hands gripped the ceiling, claws sharp as knives puncturing through with ease. Dragging itself through the window, avoiding the sharp glass that remained, the ghoul dangled from the ceiling. Its pitted face stared down at Jakob, snarling.

With preternatural speed, the mutant scurried along the ceiling, dropping onto an old storage container before hopping down to the burning corpse. Sniffing the body, it shifted its attention between the blackened body and Jakob, the scav remembering just then that ghouls liked fresh meat just as much as they did cooked.

Taking slow, cautious steps, Jakob looked over his shoulder at the warehouse’s entrance. Looking back at the ghoul, he froze, the corpse eater licking its chapped lips. Stepping over the dead, the lucky one of the two humans, the ghoul made its way towards Jakob. Its scabbed tongue slithered out, playing circles through the toxic air.

Abandoning caution, the scav turned, sprinting for the door, pocket watch slipping from his fingers. The door was barely two-dozen meters away, but Jakob felt like he was running a marathon, the threat of the ghoul dragging his sense of time to a crawl. After what felt like an eternity, he made it to the door, relief flooding his system as his fingers wrapped around the handle.

The door didn’t budge, a rattling chain echoing from outside as it caught. Panic flooded Jakob’s body, adrenaline running through his muscles as he tugged at the door again and again.

“There is no escape from your initiation,” a familiar voice slithered into the room. “A great one has come to see you, and your fate decided. Rejoice, for you shall be judged.”

Too scared to face his death, Jakob kept pulling at the door. “Let me out! Let me out, damn it!” He felt the fangs tear into his neck, the red woman’s voice echoing along the walls of his mind.

“A great one has chosen. You are not worthy.”

Jakob’s back was slick with blood, and he felt nothing.

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