Chapter 2: Chapter 2

His head hurts.

This was the first thing he noticed when his eyes began traversing the the wastelands of Tartarus. A head splitting headache, as if a hot knife dug into his brain; embedded into his consciousness.

The next thing he noticed was the corpses; although the woman with the flashlight was no longer there, he could still see the corpses. Arranged in the same morbid fashion, under the alien glow of the sea-green torches, placed haphazardly around the vicinity.

Human sacrifices. Art pieces of a madman.

He noted. It wasn’t an unexpected sight.

—

“Fresh blood.”

“Can you really see from that far?”

Hunger drives men mad. This was the first rule that Eve had learned after serving his Tartarus sentence for the past four years.

Sitting down on the rooftop of what could be consider a skyscraper if it wasn’t 12 kilometres underground, the pair of hooded figures stared at the summoning circle only a couple hundred metres in front of them.

Giving a glance at the lunatic next to him, Eve heaved a sigh. He wasn’t sure where he gone wrong in life to find himself beside this creature. Pale skin, red eyes and a penchant for human flesh; everything about her screamed vampire - and he was her walking blood bank.

“Foolish human, are you doubting me, the mighty pureblood Acerola Orion the third of vampire aristocracy, who had lived for over 500 years?”

You’d think that 500 years would be enough to make anyone even a little bit more intelligent.

“I want new blood!”

Maybe she’s the sole exception. Although I’m not really the one to talk about eccentricity.

Donning an eyepatch and a black leather jacket, Eve looked something like a cross between a pirate and an aviator.

“I yield, I yield… Whatever you say, my fair and incredibly humble vampire duchess”

“Gahahahaha! You are right, foolish human!” Acerola scoffed, missing the glaringly obvious sarcasm dripping from his words.

“Do you reckon we can take him?”

“He looks weak - so weak! A weakling, I decree! Murder him we shall! Gahahahaha!”

“Haha, yeah. Murder him we shall. Let’s get going.”

I’m tired of eating from garbage bag anyways.

—

Acerola first spotted the falling man when she was scavenging for food - despite the awfully paradoxical nature of a “vampire aristocrat” also being an adept dumpster diver, she comforted herself by saying that it was a necessity in this lightless world.

Honestly, she wasn’t sure if the man was alive at first; most human beings do die from a 12 kilometre drop after all. She glanced back at Eve, who was scurrying through the rubbish like his life depended on it. Acerola once again, for the forty fifth time, concluded that Eve was a little bit of a special case. How did you survive the fall? Acerola didn’t care to ask - what did it matter to her after all?

Twelve minutes later, she was suddenly reminded of this thought; crouching from their vantage point on the roof of the building.

“By the way, why do you always wear that dress? It’s probably uncomfortable as hell isn’t it?”

“I can’t be a pureblood vampire without looking like one, can I? Gahahahaha! Such foolish questions.”

The man in the straitjacket was lying on the ground, hands still tied - he looked like a worm, struggling to get himself off the ground.

“Acerola - remember the plan. We go on thre-“

“Gahahahaha! The one who kills him gets to eat him!”

Wind fluttered as she jumped from the building, dress floundering in the wind. 

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The thump of high heels hitting the ground reverberated as Acerola landed from her lengthy fall. She glanced at Eve. Eve glared back, wearing an exasperated expression.

“That bitch never listens, does she. I’m an idiot for expecting otherwise.”

Reaching for his sniper, tucked away in a briefcase that he carried along his shoulder, he muttered.

“Although it probably doesn’t matter anyways. Violence is the only thing she’s good at.” 

He ignored the feeling of discomfort tickling the back of his head.

—

 Acerola kicked up dirt as she sped forwards; her fist approached the struggling man in the straitjacket. The fist pummelled the incapacitated man’s face - sending him flying; knocking the heads off one of the corpses littering the circle.

“Acerola, stop kicking him around. I’m trying to get a shot.”

“I was punching him, not kicking him. And he can’t do shit anyways, so what’s the point?”

The man grimaced in pain as the impact dislocated one of his rib bones; it pierced through his skin like some sort of visceral skinless third arm.

“Ugh…”

“Gahahahaha! I haven’t had this much fun in years!”

Rolling on the ground as Acerola landed another punch, the man slowly began vomiting; a mess of blood, intestines and bodily fluids.

“Acerola, just kill him. You’re going to grind him into dust.”

Another fist hit his head - sending him somersaulting; his feet and head skipped across like ground like a flat rock against a water surface, before reaching his breaking point.

His head flew off the stump of his neck, and his straitjacket was in tatters; ripped and torn; his limbs no longer bound; instead hanging by his side limp.

“Jesus Christ. Stop… Stop… That’s kinda gross. Why do you have to go playing with your food every time we find someone alive. You know I don’t support your sadistic tendenci-“

“Shut up human. I indulge in what I like to indulge; you can't govern what I d-”

Black.

A sudden, instantaneous frame of black obscured her vision.

Acerola felt her face being bashed in - the taste of blood flooded her throat as the pungent smell of disease burst her lungs - choking and sputtering on a sickly mixture of crimson fluid.

“Acerola? Acerola?!”

Her eyes fluttered as she readjusted; bones shifted back as she looked towards her opponent; a headless, legless man balancing on what used to be his ankles, wielding a weapon that used to be one of his rib bones.

She had no time to face the unscrupulous reality of the situation as the man, despite the obvious lack of integral body parts, began launching a relentless assault on the vampire - first came the fingers; thrown at the vampire like miniature throwing knives before the rib bone cum newly fashioned calcium bat found it’s new home in Acerola’s chin.

Her eyes locked on what used to be its hands; now disfigured beyond repair, as it clawed its way closer towards her; the stump of its fingers bubbling like boiling water as flesh visibly regrew from thin air.

Bang.

The body momentarily stopped moving for a split second as lead embedded itself into the heart of the undying creature.

“Acerola, get a move on. We’ll retreat for now… Hey… Acerola?”

She was trembling. A 500 year old vampire was trembling in front of the biological aberration. Shivering as the creature’s newly grown feet found Acerola’s skull - bones breaking and regrowing as Acerola stumbled backwards.

As her eyes slowly regenerated, she found herself facing a devilish smile plastered on a black haired, black eyed man - looking like a devil that had cruised its way from hell.

“Acerola, was it? Thank you for the rude awakening. I really needed that.”

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