Chapter 1: Chapter 1: The Deadman

  It’s a pit of corpses. Full of bodies that got defiled by some kind of beast. It was here that someone’s moving. Alive but bruised.

“Gah!”

The corpse made a sound as he looked around him. Corpses and more corpses. He climbs up and finds himself in some kind of sacrificial pit that he seems to have survived.

“Where am I?”

The name of this poor bastard is Robert Oswald. But right now there is an extra head of memories in his head that is confusing his head. These memories overflow to the point that he finds himself unable to breathe the stink around him.

He stops moving. He takes in the hell that is around him before searching himself. Here’s how he’s making sense of all this nonsense surrounding.

He’s in a pit full of corpses.

The corpses have tattoo markings that have two meanings.

The blessed and the scorned.

He is a Commission goon that is sent to investigate this piece of shit of a case. Other than being part of this Commission Against Supernatural Entities. Nothing really is going well. Maybe it’s why Kato can understand why he’s taking on this huge task. Get some respect from the higher ups and get a bonus.

“Too bad you now got possessed. Bad fucking day for you.”

Kato searches for any kind of weapon against them. He knows shit about magic, but he was a merc so he knew a thing or two about killing his way through cultist pieces of shit.

“Robert K. Oswald.”

He mouths the name of his new identity. It’s odd that he has so much knowledge about this person. It feels like he is a wraith. All he could really feel is that he ‘doubles’ the strength of this body. Sharper senses and a stronger body. It’s like his soul is nurturing this body.

“Is this blessing or curse for you?”

He didn’t know. With his years of being a mercenary and his knowledge as a Magi. It made him quite a pair. Not that this fucker has a lot of knowledge about spells other than the usual. It’s like his brain couldn’t handle the spells. Well it’s the thing about him being an enforcer is that he didn’t have the usual spells that Agents have.

He’s skulking around the area. One good thing about these pieces of shit is that they like carving people. Which means that he found a lot of knives that he can use to slit their throats.

He climbs a ladder leading up to another section. He takes a look at the dank corridors. There isn’t much to go on other than the moldy, stinky, blood-spotted paths.

He has a lot of questions.

The scope of this is really fucking big.

How the hell did they manage to cover the smell.

Not to mention that the smell should at least reach the topside.

“This is one bad day.”

He holds his face groaning. He twirls the sacrificial knife he took from one of the dead bodies. Then continues moving deep inside the paths opposite where the water is flowing out.

As he moves he thinks of the last memory he has before waking up here. He recalls driving a car, weaving through streets, lanes, and going off-road. Then he finds the place where they should be extracted. He hands over the relic to his employer. He was about to exfiltrate when he found the barrel of a gun pointed at his chest. He got shot twice. Fell down and then looked up at the guy who shot him.

Last thing he saw was the muzzle of a gun.

“Fuck.”

He curses with gritted teeth. All his life he has been a fighter. Fighting for scraps. Going to the military to succumb to his rage. Tempering that rage into something he could control. Being disciplined and brought to kill the bad guys.

After his service he became a merc to continue to control that angry guy inside that never got disciplined. Always trying to be in the fight.

Not that it did him any good. All it did for him is that he learned the depths of evil. How awful it was to look them bastard in the eyes and not puke.

“Wish could at least reach thirty.”

He stops. He was planning to celebrate his birthday alone. Enjoy himself on some third-world beach where he can spend the money for his mission. Instead he’s spending his time in this shithole.

He stops moving to watch the two walking. They are praying to whatever god they are praying to. The tone-deaf one carried a lamp. The other carries a bolt-action with him.

He does recall it being around the 90’s here. History’s a mess. It should still be the same. Just that there’s no Saint Lucius City he recalls around Europa.

He moves while wielding that knife. He throws the one he is holding to the one carrying the bolt-action in the throat. Draws the knife on his garter belt with his off-hand and stabs the guy holding the lantern above his ear.

“As much as I like to get information. You cultist type never really do listen to others.”

He pulls the knife out, raises it again, and stabs the guy in the scalp twice, He pulls it out. Takes the bolt-action rifle from the guy and checks it.

“Looks like a Ross Rifle Mark 3?”

He takes the clips and bullets from the pouch. He kicks over the guy holding the lantern and finds a Semi-Auto 1911 with two magazines in his pockets.

He weighs the pistol in his hands and aims with his dominant eye. He yanks the holster from the thigh of the bastard and ties it around his thigh.

“Got myself armed at least.”

He rips the knives out of their belts. Ties around him and looks for anything that might be used. Other than what they are carrying. Nothing much to take from them.

“Great. This is why you always try to make them before gutting them.”

He groans. He looks around and thinks back to retracing their steps. It might lead him to a horde of these bastards. He didn’t have enough bullets so he had to go with his Isolate and Kill specialty this time.

“This will take a very long time. I hate this place.”

But there is one thing that he has learned in his past life.

That a predator takes his time in hunting his prey down.

 

You are reading story The Deadman at novel35.com

***

 

It’s the sewers. Big one. Specifically this sewer system is part of an industrial district. It’s where the meat packing factories, butchers, and all kinds of disgusting chemicals are going to.

Whatever is in the sewers doesn’t affect the air outside because of how large the insides are. Ten to fifteen wide and about fifteen meter tall. Large sewer system that acts as a flood protection system.

It’s so large that they left it alone. One thing is that the engineer and designer of the system didn’t think that the tunnels they didn’t use or forgot would become a den for monsters.

“Someone’s killing us.”

“Who is it? CASE agents?”

“Possibly. Fourteen dead here.  Ten dead around this part of the tunnel.”

“And we’re noticing just now?”

“Yes. Doesn’t make sense. We know this sewer more than anyone, but it looks like that’s not the case.”

“How many of us are left here?”

“Fifty. We’re already making sure the main chamber is defended. All are carrying rifles now.”

Someone runs inside this chamber where these people are talking. A cultist with the blessed sign on his neck.

“T-there something happening! T-the main chamber’s are burning!”

“What!?”

They started running to the chambers. Running through the tunnels until they found their main chamber burning. Their altar is incinerated. The guy leading them gapes at the sight before screaming loudly.

“WHO DID THIS!?”

“Head Priest, we gotta leave now!”

“And let this heathen go!?”

“Sir, the gas we stored is leaking out. We don’t have our masks here!”

“Then go get one you fools!”

“The storage’s burning, sir!”

“What!?”

The head priest glares at his followers. He grits his teeth and starts leaving the pathway when the chamber. They arrive at the gate that they entered and find it locked.

“W-what is this!?”

The others try to open the gate but something is blocking it. It’s the mechanism that has been keeping anyone out. The problem is that it can only be lifted behind the gate. Not inside the gate where they are all trapped currently.

The head priest drew symbols with his right hand and fired a bolt on the gate. It didn’t move. He knew it better than to try and pry this gate open with spells. Not to mention he doesn’t have any medium after the ritual sacrifice they made hours ago in the pit.

The gas will kill them first. So their only hope is to go back to the chamber and tread the path of blood where they might be able to climb the scaffolding.

The High Priest leads his flock and is shot in the thigh. He can hear the charm he carries around his neck withering at the first shot. He hears another clack of a bolt-action being pulled.

The flock behind him scatters. They hide on the columns while watching the scaffolding for any signs of people. One of the flock tries to rescue the high priest.

His head got hit by an unseen force. He lays on the floor with his head making a pool. They hear a bolt-action being set again.

The gas crept in.

The high priest tries to crawl to cover. A shot explodes on his other leg. A horrifying sound creeps on their skins. The gas they gathered to use on the populace now creeps to them as fire rages on.

He can feel the trinket on his body withering as seconds passes. The rest of his flock chokes. They fall one after another, holding their throats. The fire rages on and as they reveal themselves out of cover.

The high priest watches the unknown gunman fire at his flock one by one. He is the last one left. He looks up and catches a glimpse of the gunman walking out of the shadows, adjusting his rifle, taking aim and firing.

The shot completely withered his protection from projectiles. The gas crept in his lungs and he finds himself choking. He holds his throat.

He can’t scream. His eyes are watering. His tongue is dry. He looks up and sees the gunman pulling the bolt of his rifle and taking another shot.

 

***

 

He pulls the bolt of the rifle. He looks at the guy he just shot and adjusts his gas mask. He didn’t know how long he had been creeping around the sewers. About fifteen hours since he woke up maybe?

He has taken Robert’s belongings back. They were hoarding it. After that he stayed in the sewers eavesdropping, stalking, and watching their movement. He heard them talking about their main chamber and their plan to gas the city. He found an entire storage of poisonous gas they were trying to kill the whole city with. Poison the air and the water.

He took one gas cannister, hauled it and released it into their chamber. It’s a gamble to see if the head priest comes out. Thankfully, the bastard showed his face.

He takes out the recon camera he carries on his bag. He takes a picture of the chamber and then takes a shot of the high priest’s corpse. He has confirmed the kill and with it he can finally leave this shithole.

As for the poison gas canisters he found stored in the sewers. He’ll let the others take care of it. He has been roaming this place for so long that he needs to get some fresh air.

Get his head right and accept that he is now Robert Oswald. The poor idiot that they sent to take care of a group of cultists trying to gas an entire city in the name of whatever demon they are trying to worship

You can find story with these keywords: The Deadman, Read The Deadman, The Deadman novel, The Deadman book, The Deadman story, The Deadman full, The Deadman Latest Chapter