Slayers: Origin - A Short Story

June 18th, 1994

Richard Fortune had never been a fan of flying. Sitting thousands of feet in the air and not being in control was more than enough to make him uneasy. However, no matter how much you analyzed his expression, you’d never be able to tell. Whatever fear may lay in his heart, it was never enough to reflect on his face. A fact that would rarely ever change, especially tonight.

“Feelin’ queasy yet, Rick?” came a burly voice through his headset.

“Only when I hear you talkin’, Aimsley,” he responded in jest, returning the friendly jab with his own roast.

This small slice of humor did a lot to cut the tension he felt in his muscles, but it wasn’t enough to distract him from the fact that he was high above a rough sea, relying on the skills of a pilot he doesn’t know to carry them through the storm. He hated the idea that bad weather could be his end instead of a bullet, but it’s a fear he was more than willing to confront, time and time again.

“Target sighted!” came the pilot’s voice. “We’re about thirty seconds out!”

“You heard the man, weapons hot! Remember, boys, we’re expecting a warm welcome!” commanded Richard. He flicked the safety on his M4 and cradled the rifle in his grip, ready for the grand entrance his troupe was preparing to make. The combination of a dark night and hard rain made peering through his tiny window nearly impossible but, sure enough, a dot in the water could be seen further ahead.

‘Aye, aye, Captain,” joked Aimsley. He knew how much his friend hated titles. Referring to him as such was a cheap way of getting under his skin.

Their destination was a large ship. One that was meant to be hauling cargo but tonight, it was a vessel for their enemy. The closer they got, the stranger this night would become. The ship left no wake, no indication of its forward trajectory, being nudged in whatever direction the waves would allow. As the chopper prepared for its final approach, every light on board the ship went dim. A million questions raced through Richard’s mind, none that could be answered while they were still in the air.

The pilot circled with caution as the crew anticipated an attack but, to everyone’s surprise, their arrival was eerily peaceful. The only immediate threat was mother nature herself, who seemed to favor their cause despite her current mood. Still, Richard kept his finger poised on the trigger, ready for any possibility.

“We’re all clear. Looks like an easy drop,” said the crew chief as he resigned from his seat behind the gun. The wide doors of the Black Hawk slid open, giving every passenger a first-hand taste of the cold wind blowing on this night. Undeterred, the captain confidently led the descent down to the deck once he got the signal. Richard steadied his stance, rifle at the ready, head on a swivel, while the three remaining members of his unit followed suit.

The anticipation of struggle was still high, even as they waited for the chopper to depart, but there was not a soul in sight. Once fully convinced the coast was clear, the quartet made a beeline for the nearest door. They huddled around the entrance, two positioned on either side of the doorway, preparing to breach. Richard kept his weapon poised as Aimsley turned the handle, ready to shoot anything waiting on the other side.

A loud metal creek cut through the drone of rainfall as the door swung open, revealing nothing but a pitch-black corridor. A quick flick of the flashlight on his weapon and Richard was ready to step inside. He fearlessly led them in, prepared for danger that would never arrive. Their soggy entrance had thus far gone unnoticed.

“Surely, there’d be someone to greet us by now?” said Aimsley.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” said Richard, lowering his tone, encouraging the others to do the same. “We’ve got the element of surprise, for now. Let’s use it.”

Richard tapped the night vision goggles on his head to signal his intent, giving them all the instruction to do the same. One by one they turned off their lights and adapted to the darkness.

Every step had to be cautious, gently competing with the steady rock of the ship. The shuffle of their equipment was matched by the squelch of their wet boots, right up until their silent stride came to a screeching halt. Richard raised his fist and they all obeyed the signal to stop.

“We’ve got blood…,” he said as he drew their attention to the drops on the floor.

The source lay only a few feet away. Those first few drops morphed into a bloody Picasso the closer they got, until they finally came upon the corpse. Richard knelt beside the body and carefully tugged at their shoulder, rolling them over to reveal the rabid carnage. There was a gaping hole where the victim’s jaw used to be. All that remained were broken fangs, ripped flesh, and a gruesome summary of the events that unfolded.

“Human?” asked Aimsley.

Richard momentarily pulled up his goggles to use his flashlight once more. He lifted the eyelids of the deceased, and their crimson eyes confirmed his suspicions.

“No, Sirree. This one’s a biter,” he said.

“Holy shit,” said one the men.

Their concern was valid. As far as they were concerned, Fortune and his men were supposed to be the only ones killing vampires tonight, but every corner they turned told a different tale. The body count soared with every step they took. Those who were lucky enough to be armed were surrounded by the shells they spent trying to defend themselves. It was difficult to walk without stepping into the pools of blood that were left behind. Eventually, the corridor split, forcing the unit to separate into pairs

“Keep it tight, boys,” said Richard.

“You got it, cap’.”

Reducing their numbers felt foolish, but they needed to cover more ground. The sooner they completed their mission, the better. He and Aimsley continued their slow creep below deck until they stumbled upon the trouble they were seeking.

“Tango spotted. Another biter,” said Richard, highlighting the lone gunman taking cover in front of them.

“I’ve got a shot. Clear as day, Rick,” he replied.

“Take it.”

With their weapons suppressed, the shots were quiet enough to inflict harm without drawing attention. Two muffled pops echoed through the halls, and their target dropped to floor.

“That didn’t look weird to you?” asked Richard.

“Damn right, it did,” he said

The vampire they encountered was clearly taking cover, but he was on the wrong side, perfectly exposed for the shot. He was scared, hiding from something, but it wasn’t them. The others needed to be warned.

“Alpha 2, be advised. This area is still hot,” said Richard. “Whatever they were fighting, it’s still here. Over.”

“Copy, Alpha 1. We’re approaching the stairs on our side. Making our way down now.”

“Copy that. Stay frosty.”

“Rick, you know I’d blindly follow you into the gates of hell but even I’ve gotta pause and ask myself what the hell did we walk into,” said Aimsley. “Somethin’ ain’t right.”

“I hear you. Trust me, we’re not going to be here any longer than we need to,” he said before pointing his weapon at the staircase they were about to descend. “We’ve still got a job to do…”

The path below led straight to the ship’s mess hall. Large double doors lay broken and ajar, with debris scattered around the entrance. Their footsteps grew stickier as they stepped over the growing pile of mutilated bodies that led up to the scene of the crime. The other two men joined them from the opposite direction, and they all silently debated their analyses. It was as if a bomb had gone off but without the usual smoke and flame that goes along with it.

“We got a gas leak or what?” questioned Aimsley, igniting a proper discourse as each man took off his goggles, drew his flashlight, and argued his theory. All except for Richard who had already drawn the correct conclusion.

“This was a barricade” he said.

“To keep us out?”

The captain shook his head. “They were trying to keep something in.”

The peanut gallery was quick to voice their opinions.

“Bullshit.”

“Something that big wouldn’t even make it on the ship.”

“My money’s on big foot,” joked Aimsley, his words soaked in sarcasm.

Their bickering was cut short by the sudden clang of a metallic object hitting the floor, the low rumble of an animalistic growl and the pitter patter of tiny feet. The argument ended immediately as the three debaters hastily drew their weapons, pointing their flashlights in the direction of the noise, anticipating whatever revealed itself as the source.

“What the hell was that?” asked the second in command as he kept his rifle aimed straight ahead, never taking his eye off the mark.

Richard was unmoved, remaining completely calm as he stared into the darkness, determined to see the truth before jumping to any conclusion.

“Easy, boys…easy,” he said, doing his best to reassure the squad.

The fearless leader raised his weapon and marched forward, maintaining his composure as he prepared to face the monster within. The deafening silence was interrupted every few feet by the rocking creek of rolling objects and the swift movements of whatever was lurking in the dark.

He stopped dead in his tracks as his flashlight revealed a trail of small bloody footprints leading to the darkest corner of the room. There at the end of the trail sat a little girl curled up with her head on her knees, crying ever so softly. Every weapon in the room was trained in her direction, except for Richard who had already lowered his rifle.

“Rick…what are you doing?” asked Aimsley, his voice

“Everybody, calm down...she’s just a child,” he said. Richard didn’t let his guard down easily, but the blood on her feet and arms told him she needed help. He threw caution to the wind and approached what he believed to be an innocent soul. Luckily for him she reacted to his steps, looking up to see whose boots were making that noise. It gave him a clear glimpse of her big brown eyes and put his mind at ease, knowing there was one less vampire to deal with.

“Keep your lights on me,” said Richard before crouching down beside their new discovery.

“Hey, sweetie. You okay?” he asked gently.

The girl stared at him, eyes wet with tears, refusing to say a word or make any noise louder than a whimper. Being this close gave Richard a more accurate look at her appearance. There was blood on her hands, in her hair, dotted across her cheeks, and smeared around her lips. His first instinct was to check for any injuries. This blood had to come from somewhere after all.

Richard held out his hands as he asked “Can you stand for me? Huh, Violet? What do ya say we give that a try?”

Hearing her name put the girl at ease. Slowly but surely, she listened, wiping her tears as she tentatively rose to her feet. The other three instantly took a step back in shock as they got a good look at the fresh blood stains decorating the front of her gown.

“Rick, I’ve got a baaad feelin’ about this,” said Aimsley, index finger ready for action.

“Not now, Paul.”

“This don’t look right-“

“She needs help.”

 “You sure about that?” he persisted

“I’ve seen her eyes, she’s fine,” Richard argued back.

“Not good enough,” protested Aimsley. “You check her, and you check her good.”

There was no getting past their anxiety. As much as he wanted to dismiss it, Richard knew he had no choice but to address their concern. Dictatorships weren’t his style and this was just the price he had to pay for withholding information. He whipped out his flashlight and hastily scanned her neck and wrists for wounds that he knew wouldn’t be there.

“See. No bites,” he said. “Now stand down.”

Reluctantly, they all obeyed his order and lowered their weapons, convinced that the girl in front of them was indeed human.

“I’m going to pick you up now…is that okay, Violet?” asked Richard.

The girl didn’t respond…

But her eyes were locked on his every move, silently staring as he gently put his hands under her arms and lifted her off the ground.

Still, the girl refused to speak…              

Richard questioned how quickly he could reach for his gun with both hands occupied but eventually, the tension left his body, and he relaxed as she wrapped her arms around his neck and rested her head on his shoulders. This might just be a simple rescue mission after all.

“So, what now?” asked Aimsley.

“Radio for exfil,” he said as he looked at the tiny creature resting peacefully in his arms.

“We’ve got what we came for.”