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Hello!!!!

www.youtube.com/watch?v=2Ymjj7…


The wife and I are heading out to a haunted house soon, and later tonight I'll serenade you with my Halloween Costume :) Gonna be Bronson from the movie of the same name, the film about the psychotic british convict.

In the meanwhile, I've written you all a nice Halloween story both here and on my fanfiction account :) do Enjoy ;)
Mature Content Filter is On
(Contains: nudity, sexual themes, violence/gore and strong language)

All the Pretty Things: The Rise of Crazy Korra

Disclaimer: I do not own Attack on Titan or Legend of Korra, Hellsing or any other third party properties; this is all non-profit. This is an adult story that features lesbian relationships as well as gore and murder. If you are bothered by any of this please leave now. If you do like this, read and review

Now, enjoy!


Sophia, Bulgaria, Grand Sophia Hotel

Korra Kumaglak stepped into the hotel room with a bottle of champagne and a smile on her face. The middle height woman of Alaskan heritage strode past a portable display case of the various martial arts gold medals she'd collected during her career. It was a monument to Korra's pride; certainly the seven gold medals in various martial arts and three for swordsmanship. Pausing, she hung up her coat and out of habit touched the display case affectionately.

Stepping into the bedroom, Korra was greeted by the sight of a stunning woman with a face like a Noh mask and hair found only on the silver screen. Asami Sato-Kumaglak had her back to Korra, dressed in her favourite jacket and slacks. Somehow Asami managed to make the plain leather jacket and jeans drop dead gorgeous.

The darker skinned woman smiled at her wife, "Well, sweetie-of-mine, tonight I've won the International Historical European Martial Arts tournament; taking home the gold once more," She flashed a winning grin and took a step towards her dearly beloved, soon to be departed. "You vanished during the match but that's fine, it let me focus better; so no foul there. And since today is also our one year wedding anniversary I feel like I have the right to make like a caveman and fuck you raw."

Korra had always occupied a space between romantic and lewd and normally Asami found it oddly charming but today it got no reply from her.

Korra waited for a reply from her wife.

And waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Her mood was high so her wife's silence only brought her down a tiny little bit. Of course Asami was playing hard to get or just trying to tease Korra; they'd have hot sweaty, passionate sex in a moment and it'd all be fine.

Asami turned around, and judging by her expression she was neither joking nor playing hard to get. The lovely Asami's face was pale, unadorned by makeup and totally blank.

Moving in towards the bed, Korra went to touch Asami's hand. Asami pulled her hand away from Korra and looked away. Looking down, Korra could also see that Asami's foot was twitching; a nervous tic that indicated she was either nervous or angry.

Any festive feeling that Korra had earlier was now gone. She tried to maneuver close to her wife, but Asami only kept shuffling away. Alarmed by Asami's aversion to contact, Korra tried to reason with her wife. "Hey, Asami, you're scaring me; are you okay?" A thought occurred to her, "Is it cancer? Please don't let it be cancer."

Asami looked down at the carpet, saying nothing. Her hands began to clench and her eyes shut.

This time Korra put a hand on Asami's shoulder, not giving her wife a chance to flee or avoid touch. "Hey, don't leave me in the dark, honey. Anything wrong with you, we can handle together. We're a team."

The ravishing yet tragically sad Japanese woman sighed and looked straight ahead, not meeting Korra's gaze. "I know you cheated."

This caused the buff Inuit woman to be taken aback. Korra gave a too loud laugh and tried to play it cool; even as nervous sweat started to pour out all across her body. "Is that it, Asami? Hey I never cheated on you and you'd know if I did." Her winning smile was wide and fake. She started to handle one of her three wolf tails; a nervous tic of hers. "I'd never cheat on you; you're my all, baby. You're my forever girl. Stop all this foolishness and let's cuddle."

Asami's full lips pursed and she pressed her eyes shut tighter amidst the storm of emotional turmoil. "Mako confessed today during your final match. I'm sorry that I had to hear it from him."

At the mention of her sparring partner and nutritionist, Korra sputtered and still tried to keep up the act. "Mako? Pffff, Mako was probably drunk. And I could never do it with him," she was talking faster and faster, hoping that her lie would sell to Asami. "I'd never fuck him. I'm totally lez. I'm as lez as lez can be; plus I'm sure that Mako is gay."

"Why did you do it, Korra?" Asami asked, her tone grew harder as it grew more lifeless.

Nervous laughter emanated from Korra, the façade broke apart quicker as she tried to maintain it. "I don't know what Mako told you or why, but there's no way we—I could have done it," Unconsciously she wiped the sweat from her dark brow. "And there's no time for us to do it because we spend all of our time together training and stuff."

The problem was that Asami wasn't buying what Korra had to sell and her manner and tone took a hard turn. "Korra, you are digging the hole deeper with each lie of yours." True anger flooded her body now and it made the physically stronger Korra cower. "Unless you can name one good reason that Mako would break down into tears and confess to cheating, then you've fucked up big time." Her eyes flashed with anger but she did not raise her voice, "We've been together for ten years, married for one year and you had to let me down like this."

Korra licked her dry lips and swallowed the bile and regret in her throat. "Uh, when did Mako say all this to you?"

This made Asami sneer; the opposite of the kind young woman she normally was. "Are you really worried about that you got caught?" She let out a humourless laugh, "Are you really upset that Mako had more backbone than you, when you should be worried about the fact that you violated my trust in a way that can't be fixed."

"Asami—

"Don't, Korra!" she ground her teeth in rage, "What's done is done and I might have had some respect if I heard it from you instead of Mako. I don't want to say that we're over, but you just might have done it.

Asami stood up, "I have to go."

Heart racing with terror, Korra stood up and tried to stop her wife, "Asami, please—

She was shoved back by her wife, whose heart lay in pieces all over the floor. "Don't follow me, Korra," her anger and betrayal was the only thing holding back the tears. "I'm leaving on the next flight out of here. When you get back home none of my things will be there."

"Wait! Asami!" Korra cried out as her wife stormed out of the room, Asami's words paralyzing her to the spot.

Asami stomped out of the main lobby of the Grand Hotel Sofia and into the stormy, rainy night. As the wind hit her like a physical blow, she fumbled with the zipper on her jacket. Moments after Asami had left the hotel, Korra followed her into the pissing rain, calling her name frantically. Like a lost woman in a Noir film, Korra only just spotted the dark hair and red dress

Across the street, a man over two meters tall in red clothes watched the two briefly with crimson eyes before carrying on his way.


Pliska hotel

The young Asian woman of thirty years and indeterminate nationality finished buttoning up her dress shirt and threw on a conservative woman's jacket. Before leaving her bedroom, the woman sprayed some air freshener around to do something about the corpse smell that stayed in the air like. As an afterthought, she gave herself a quick spray as well.

She stepped over to the bathroom and gave her hair a quick once over; ignoring the sink covered in some dried yellowish fluid.

Her stride indicated confidence, strength and something more; perhaps military training or a background with the police from . . . wherever she came from. She fit well in this basic hotel room which seemed stuck in the Soviet era. Everything from her discount brown shoes to thin black tie left no room for style, frivolity or individuality. The only personal items in the entire bedroom were an old, threadbare, red scarf and a semi-expensive wrist watch.

The slim yet purposeful woman took the watch and slipped it on, not bothering to read the name inscribed on it: Mikasa Ackerman. Whether or not that was her name or the name of some previous owner of the watch was impossible to tell.

Mikasa looked out the window at the rainy night. She went to get her umbrella.

The closet door opened and a no-brand made-in-China umbrella was soon found. With the umbrella in hand, Mikasa could now focus on collecting more important things, like the veterinarian's bag which was packed to capacity or the unmarked bottle of pills with a logo of a tall man in red on the lid.

Hefting her vet's bag and placing the pills into her jacket pocket, Mikasa took the final piece of the puzzle. Paper rustled as Mikasa took the red dossier from the nightstand, opening it up she eyed the documents inside. It was nothing important, just a subway schedule for this evening. Certain subway lines and times were highlighted in yellow for her attention.

With no further ceremony or personality, Mikasa grabbed the subway schedule and her red scarf. Wrapping the scarf around her neck and putting the schedule in her jacket pocket, she gave the ratty old piece of fabric an affectionate rub before heading out the door.


Central Subway Terminal

Asami went down the steps of the subway station, Korra's cries ringing in her ears. The last thing she wanted to do now was talk to her adulterous wife. Over the loud speakers, a pre-recorded Bulgarian voice announced that the next train was departing. Crowds of angry and happy football fans filled up the entire station in a rainbow of colours and

Running towards the train, Asami was able to get onboard just in time. Turning around, she saw Korra running at her through the train's windows; knocking down casual commuters and football fans alike. The statuesque woman's face slackened and relaxed as the train doors began to close. She was not so lucky however when somebody reached out and stuck out their hand; keeping the train doors open.

Mentally, Asami cursed the random Asian woman in a plain suit and red scarf.

"Asami!" came Korra's booming voice; carrying painfully loud in the enclosed confines of the subway cart. Turning on her heel, Asami started to move into the crowded confines of the train, hoping to lose Korra on another station. The pair of them started to move towards the rear of the train as Mikasa Ackerman began to look for a seat.

The silent woman glared at some young party goer and a yellow light flashed inside her eyes. The young, drunken man shakily got up and surrendered his seat. The quarrel of the brown woman and her sister or whatever she was, wasn't any concern to Mikasa.

Sitting down, she looked down at her wrist watch. Her dark grey eyes followed the hands on that watch compulsively; like a killer in an Edgar Allan Poe story. The hour hand on her watch moved more until Mikasa did, at least until the time came up.

Korra desperately tried to shove the people on the crowded cart away from her. They parted easily for Asami but blocked her at every turn and in every conceivable way; it was like the world knew of her unfaithfulness and was working to stop her in her tracks. Swearing, spitting and shoving like a drunken Russian sailor; Korra managed to get all of the rubber necks, onlookers and gawkers out of her way.

It was a Saturday night and not only was there a major martial arts tournament in town but also a major football game that was just finishing. By now the trains were clogged with thousands of drunken football fans.

There at the very back of the subway, standing proud and regal was Asami Sato-Kumaglak. Korra had finally caught up with her and there was nowhere left for Asami to go to. Desperate to try and save her relationship, Korra attempted to give Asami a kiss. The kiss was properly rejected, Asami shoving Korra back; even angrier now for the misguided effort.

At the front of the train, Mikasa's fingers tapped on her veterinarian's bag. The time was almost on them, now if only the subway operators did their job then she could do hers.

The subway cart was a den of noise, crammed with people like sardines; the fatal sundering of one relationship hardly even stood out. Korra and Asami fought; with Asami furious and Korra pathetically begging. A young pair of football fans made out furiously with their makeup on. A fast food worker on the night shift lamented not being able to own a car.

The Time was coming.

The train sped down the tracks, gaining steam and spraying sparks everywhere. The conductor at the front was pushing his engine to its limit.

As the runaway train sped to the final station, the tracks switched and a hidden panel in the tunnels opened up. A red light flashed and the train went into uncharted territory.

They didn't notice it right away, not everyone; but some of the passengers noticed that they'd missed their station. A few others noticed that the walls of the tunnel now seemed to be made of brick and stone rather than concrete. Nobody saw the chained figures on the tunnel walls for lack of illumination; some living and some dead.

Two Austrian brothers, one tall and gentle and the other short and belligerent stumbled in front of Mikasa; the taller brother acting as the responsible one judging by the short one's half empty vodka bottle.

Mikasa didn't understand the brother's German, but she sort of got the hint when the smaller one "Eduard" started to do faux kung Fu moves while looking at her and making Bruce Lee type noises.

Embarrassed, the taller one, "Alphonse" apparently; started to move his "Grosse bruder" away from the woman in the scarf. They didn't get far when Mikasa spied that her watch revealed it was time.

Standing up, the silent woman pulled open her veterinarian's bag and started to rummage around for the right tools.

A woman was starting to get worried across the aisle from Mikasa and the two brothers. She was a tourist from England who'd gotten separated from her travel partners and was now paranoid about being nabbed by some shadowy Eastern European crime syndicate for nefarious purposes. Human traffickers and other such bullshit.

Fears of the Russian mob kidnapping her and selling her into slavery vanished from her head as the saw the Asian woman pull off her red scarf and pull out a screwdriver from her antique leather bag. Before her mind even registered what happened, Mikasa drove the screwdriver into the heart of the taller Austrian man. The world seemed to go silent as the shorter Austrian Edward screamed right before the Asian woman swung a large butcher's hammer and crushed his skull.

Only when Edward's body crumpled on a heap on the subway floor and brains and blood splattered the shoes of all bystanders did the English tourist woman scream. One of Edward's eyeballs rolled towards her even as Mikasa surgically slaughtered the people in her immediate vicinity with screwdriver and hammer. Shards of skull bone flew everywhere and curly chunks of brain like worms decorated the windows and floor of the subway cart.

Mikasa's arms and legs flew out in a series of reflexive strikes, going for hearts and skulls with industrial precision. There was neither hate nor sadism in her kills. She was above the victims of her slaughter; a surgeon may as well feel sadism for the bacteria he or she kills when sterilizing their tools. To Mikasa, all slaughter was an abstraction; not a hunt or a spree as much as a calculation on how much force to swing the hammer with in order to gain maximum efficiency.

The English tourist, Hermione Granger, pulled a gun out from her purse as the young Asian woman had just finished killing ten people in half as many seconds. The gun went off and the blast was like thunder in the asphyxiating cage of the subway train. Seconds before the screwdriver was driven into her eye, Hermione saw the bullet from her gun hit the killer right in the heart.

Blood and viscera clung to the chromed shaft of the screwdriver. It stuck out the back of Hermione's head like a penis from some obscene sex joke. The shiny steel instrument was withdrawn and the once bookish and paranoid English girl joined the Austrian brothers.

Korra grabbed Asami and held her as soon as she heard the gunshot. "Fuck!" she shouted as she held her lover tight; as if trying to shield her from shrapnel. A thousand possibilities flew through her mind; most of them involving terrorists or crazed gunmen.

Asami pushed Korra off of her, "Get the fuck off me," she barked at her estranged wife. Yet even through the pain of unfaithfulness, Asami was concerned with what the gunshot might indicate. They weren't the only ones to think about this. The whole population of the rear most compartment all looked to the front of the train.

It wasn't another gunshot though that really got everybody's attention, it was the screams. The screams could be heard; screams of panic and the screams of the dying. The reaction of the commuters was like that of cows to the slaughter when they hear the sound of their fellows dying or captive animals placed in a cage with a predator. People began to run towards the back of the car, crushing both Asami and Korra in a mass of sweat, fear pheromones and musk.

The screaming was deafening, the heat of the human bodies was cooking them and Korra joined the screamers as the panicked mob separated her from Asami. She'd lost sight of her love and an accident had slammed her so that she faced the oncoming storm. It didn't take long for Korra to see what had everyone so terrified.

Korra saw Mikasa step through the threshold of the rearmost cart. The assassin's hands were smeared with blood, as were her hammer and screwdriver; but the rest of her was immaculate. Heart pounding and helpless, Korra could only watch as the silent assassin snuffed out lives with her mallet and stabbing combo. Blood splattered the walls and floor.

No expression crossed Mikasa's face. Her breathing stayed light and calm; despite splattering heads and piercing hearts with a machine's pace.

The crush of people was half dead now and a number of the more drunk and desperate types launched themselves at or past Mikasa through stupidity or desperation. All they ended up doing was splattering gore over the killer's semi-fine suit.

The sudden and suicidal rush for freedom freed Korra enough that she could turn and try to locate Asami. Shoving and pushing with all her might, she barely managed to move aside the suffocating shit-heap of humanity from her. Under the fluorescence, Korra made eye contact with Asami. Just within arm's reach but imprisoned by soon to be dead flesh, Asami gave Korra a look that would haunt her for the rest of her life. There was love but no forgiveness, sadness but no fear, life but no hope. And goodbye.

Under the harsh glare of the fluorescence the people around Asami fell dead. The arms of the Assassin pin wheeled with acute precision and Korra's world stopped . For one brief, brief second Asami Sato-Kumaglak stood and in the next a cheap screwdriver thrust into her gut and was pulled sideways.

There was a noise like a fabric ripping as Mikasa ripped Asami's belly open. Mikasa allowed Asami to fall to the ground without a backwards glance. Her blindingly fast arms moved to kill the final group of people crushing around Korra.

It was then that Korra let out a scream so loud that it would have drowned out earlier livestock screams of terror. This was a predator's call to arms, a rabid mastiff ready to rip throats.

Mikasa felled the last of the people around Korra and now only the Inuit woman was left. A single hammer blow delivered without a bat of an eyelash crashed into the metal hull of the train; failing to land a skull shattering blow. Korra was nowhere where Mikasa's hammer had landed. Squatted low, tears streamed from Korra's eyes and snot coated her chin.

Moving among the corpses with the skill of a ballerina, Mikasa jabbed her screwdriver with the hopes of ending this hunting expedition; but that never came.

Korra evaded the strike, deflecting it with a circular bag-wa style. The soft power and focus of the style allowed her to evade Mikasa's incoming strikes and hard aggression. This had always been Korra's weakest martial art but now she would use it to counter the enemy's weapons and move to an advantageous position.

Hammer and screwdriver strikes flew at Korra with complete deliberation; lacking all hesitation for reasons of pride, compassion or remorse. The brown woman was moving arms and legs in circular motions, deflecting or evading her strikes. The laser eyed Mikasa couldn't get a bead on her enemy. With skill and free flow focus, Korra actually stepped around Mikasa, putting her hand on her enemy's spine slamming her elbow into the base of Mikasa's neck. Mikasa stumbled forward but rapidly recovered.

Evasion alone couldn't have allowed Korra to survive as her enemy was rapidly adjusting her strikes to hit where Korra was going to be rather than where she was; she would not so easily again allow Korra to get behind her. The important thing though was that Korra no longer had her back to the wall of the train.

Crimson flew as Mikasa's screwdriver drove through Korra's right hand just above the base of the thumb. The wound wasn't fatal but it was painful and it gave Mikasa an opening. A sideways hammer blow aimed for the temple.

A shudder ran through Mikasa's arm as Korra blocked the strike with her forearm and returned the favour with her own counterstrike. Boots finding footing between the corpses, Korra delivered a solid, grounded kick at Mikasa; shoving her back. A slick, sucking noise came from Korra's injured hand as Mikasa withdrew her screwdriver.

Spit flying from her mouth like a bulldog, Korra gave a follow up kick that knocked the hammer from the killer's hands. Charging, Korra ran over the bodies of the dead and gave Mikasa some of her own hard aggression.

At the last second, Mikasa thrust out at Korra with a knife hidden in her jacket. She was fast, but the martial artist was faster.

Korra flew to the right of the knife, taking a deep gash in her right shoulder; but not deep enough to hit tendons and muscle. This was inconsequential.

Crack!

Mikasa's eyes widened, emotionless face twisting with pain as Korra landed a bone shattering blow to her pelvis. She stumbled backwards, mobility destroyed and bladder ruptured; the injury made her piss all over herself. The urine smelled so bad, it was detectable even above buckets of spilled fresh blood.

Most would have fallen, screamed in pain like newborn babes with such injuries but Mikasa made no outcry and stood tall. She feinted with her screwdriver and attacked with her knife but the pelvis injury gave her a wobble of one centimeter; enough to allow Korra to counter.

The Alaskan woman punched her adversary in the throat; the lighter woman's eyes bulged and her moth opened wide to reveal an oversized tongue.

Not letting up, Korra tackled her target to the ground and instinctively wrapped her fingers around Mikasa's larynx.

Mikasa finally made a sound. A high, squawking, cursing, shrieking noise like two pieces of vinyl rapidly rubbed across each other. It was like nothing Korra had ever heard and definitely nothing that a human being should be able to produce.

The . . . ululation rattled the windows but grew weaker and faint as Korra felt cartilage give under her hand. It stopped altogether as a wet click emanated from Mikasa's throat. The Asian woman dropped her weapons as her hands spasmed.

Something warm and sticky spewed out of her mouth all over Korra's hands. A hot, bright yellow fluid the colour of new snot bubbled all over the dominant woman's fingers.

Your time is over, Korra though to herself. It had taken only a fraction of a second to crush Mikasa's throat. She grabbed the screwdriver, slick with blood and meant to drive it right through the slaughterer's eye.

Die you fucking bitch! Red rage clouded her vision and she stabbed downwards—only for Mikasa to fly back to life and kick Korra off of her.

Rolling back, Korra slammed her head against a plastic chair; stunning her. Brain thrown into chaos by the impact, Korra saw Mikasa get up. No, saw her shoot up despite a crippling injury; she'd felt the connective tissue of the pubis snap in two like a toothpick. The other woman should have fallen like a house of cards.

Jerky, spastic and somehow fast as hell, Mikasa ran at Korra through what must have been pain enough to make a human being beg for the release of death.

Around them, the train was picking up a head of steam, hurtling ever onwards to wherever this slaughterhouse on wheels was going.

What saved Korra's life was that running over corpses is slower than over hard, solid ground. Mikasa's outstretched hand struck, claw like where Korra's head was a moment ago; her hardened finger tips cracking the plastic of the seat and even denting the stainless steel of the train's chassis.

Another claw like hand went for Korra as she rolled out of the way. Controlling her breathing, Korra began to beat back the rage that threatened to overtake her senses and nullify her skills. Jumping to her feet, she was knocked backwards as Mikasa grappled with her wrestling style.

Smash!

Shards of safety glass flew everywhere as Korra's head broke through. Mikasa had the strength of a rabid bear and only Korra's short height and low center of gravity kept her from rolling out the window and onto the electrified rails.

Struggling, Korra held back Mikasa's hands and tried to avoid the flurry of head-butts and knee strikes that her attacker was levelling at her. A mighty knee strike from Mikasa hit Korra on the hip; a bit higher and it would have struck the ribs; cracking noises emanated from her pelvis but against all laws of biology she still stood. Korra struck back with her own knee strikes but these didn't land the ribs either.

It went like this, neither one dominating the other until the train took a sharp left; going from stone medieval tunnels to more modern concrete and steel. The momentum of the turn was enough to push Mikasa off of Korra with enough force to provide an opportunity.

Breaking out of Mikasa's grip, Korra took advantage of the train's momentum to grab the other woman by the neck and hurl her to the ground. Striking a plastic seat, Mikasa's head broke right through the subway seat and drove into the hard, unyielding metal plates that make up the train's floor. The impact was so great the entire train seemed to shudder and Mikasa's neck folded at an unnatural angle.

The lights on the train flickered and Korra lost her balance as the train began to decelerate. Landing amidst blood and cooling corpses, Korra panicked and struggled to pull herself up from the charnel floor. Outside the train, red lights flickered on, making bathing the entire cart in crimson. Hidden panels on the ceiling of the train popped open with a pneumatic hiss and metal hooks on chains extended downwards.

Body aching and wounds open, Korra froze as the adrenaline wore off long enough for her to get a good look at Asami. Her hands went to her throat as a wail of grief threatened to undo her composition.

Asami sat upright, tears streaming down her face and expression totally twisted by pain. The gruesome pain of it kept her from forming any coherent thoughts and the only reason that Asami wasn't screaming was that she'd bitten clean through her tongue at the initial evisceration.

Korra sprinted to her love and held her tight even as Asami's intestines squished against their two bodies. She was unable to even form words, Korra started to cry. Loud sobs tore came up from her throat and she couldn't hold back the scream of raw, uncut pain.

She had torn out Asami's heart. She'd triggered a chain of events which had resulted in her 'Sami having her guts torn out. Korra would never forgive herself for any of this.

Clamping her mouth shut in a display of superhuman will, Korra blinked away the tears and shifted her feet. "Hold on, tight, Asami," she tried to reassure her wife. Asami's empty yet pain filled eyes could only look up as Korra tried to wipe the thick and not quite dried blood from her chin. Then Korra hefted up Asami in a bridal carry.

This instantly caused Asami's agony and she began to writhe and wriggle in Korra's arms. The taller woman's struggling was making it difficult for Korra to balance; but she managed. Slowly, she began to step towards, attempting to comfort her wife as she did. "It's okay, 'Sami, it'll all be okay."

The train had finally stopped and outside the car, Korra could see sterile metal walls outside, clean metal grating going off into the shadows. The train was in some kind of room of cavern of unknown size, the only illumination came from the red emergency lights.

Korra's attention was taken by a hissing noise in front of her. At first she thought it might be the train's brakes, but they'd already stopped so that couldn't be it. For a flash of a second she hoped that it was just more room meat hooks. But no such luck.

Mikasa's broken hand grabbed one of the passenger supports, yellow snot poured out of the gap where her fingers were twisted and broken. Her idle hand grabbed her head, which hung limply off to the side. Each attempt to adjust her head only broke what was left of her vertebrae into dust with disturbing popping noises.

Her empty eyes met with Korra's and saw right into her soul. Standing fully upright, Mikasa rubbed the spot on her head where he skull was depressed. With only vague awareness, she also rubbed a finger into her half deflated left eye, which was still leaking optic fluid. Damn sharp plastic edges on that stupid seat.

"What are you?" Korra gasped as she took a step back from the thing that was blocking the way out.

An alarm klaxon began to go off; the emergency lights began to blink on and off. Korra looked around for any kind of escape as Mikasa began to lurch towards her and Asami. In the blinking lights it looked like the inhuman woman was winking in and out of existence. One of Artemis's own hunting dogs; if Artemis were married to Satan.

Mikasa's pace quickened, she was no longer shambling; she was running straight at Korra just as more unseen hydraulic mechanisms began to raise up the train.

Behind Korra, the rear of the train began to fold open. Only the front of the train car was lifting up, all the better to dump the load of corpses all over the floor. Looking behind her, Korra saw nothing but a featureless, bottomless dark pit that the train would empty into. Unknown to her, large mechanical arms were lifting away the other train carts to selected dumping stations.

Caught between hell and hellfire, Korra took a blind leap of faith and jumped off the train into the darkness.

She and Asami fell for god knows how long when they slammed onto a frictionless metal plane. Korra cried out as the impact fucked up her knee, but held onto Asami tighter than life itself. Instantly, the two of them flew forwards on the meat slide; the dead bodies of the passengers following them, as well as Mikasa.

In the pitch darkness, Korra turned around as the slide twisted and turned each and every way. She saw nothing but she instinctively knew what those glowing yellow eyes meant for her and Asami and she prayed to who or whatever was listening that they'd escape this living nightmare.

Bright fluorescent lights struck Korra's eyes with the pain of a punch and the meat slide was picking up speed. Wind whipping her hair and face, Korra looked around. The metal slide was taking her and Asami into some kind of underground chamber, large beyond belief. The earth moving machines working on one of the cavern walls let her know that this was not a naturally occurring place.

A sudden twist of the side slammed Korra into a sheet metal wall and made her lose hold of Asami. The sudden slamming seemed to wake up Asami from her shock induced unconsciousness. Asami's tear streaked, blood soaked face lit up with terror and she reached out for Korra's grasping hand; only to miss it. Asami opened her mouth to cry out Korra's name but only blood from her bitten tongue spewed out; her voice had been stolen from her.

Korra had no time to regret losing hold of Asami as at that moment, Mikasa tackled her and they both went over the low metal wall of the meat slide. The pair of them tumbled over the edge and gravity took over.

How long they fell they had no way of measuring, but Korra could only wish that she had Mikasa's inhuman, emotionless guise. It would be a great improvement over the terror and fear that consumed her. While Mikasa's fingernails ripped great chunks out of her skin and muscle, Korra only attempted to shove her foe off her. She had no time to play with the crazy mutant, only getting back to Asami was her priority.

The Inuit woman gave the other a mighty kick, and her brain could barely process as Mikasa was cut in half by a hair fine steel support cable. All she could focus on was falling and falling, but lucky for Korra she had a bed of corpses to break her fall.


Unconsciousness was no escape, the pain of her knee kept her out of oblivion for long and Korra screamed as she woke. Gasping for breath, she fought to remember what happened; all the wounds and injuries on her body, the fatigue, it had no meaning. Dante must have felt much the same way when he set foot in the first circle of hell.

The champion fighter struggled to raise her eyelids, weakly she craned her neck in an effort to get her face off of the soft, sticky thing she'd landed on. Her hands sunk into that same soft substance as she weakly began to raise herself up. There was a slick sound as Korra's clothes pulled off from the uneven, bumpy surface. Doing so, Korra slowly began to recognize the coppery scent coming from all around her.

Opening her eyes, Korra could see the mountain of dead bodies that had broken her fall. Empty eyes and gawking mouths greeted her and Korra's adrenaline levels instantly jumped to red alert. Ignoring her broken leg, she began to crawl off the pile, many times accidently getting a good look at women, men and children who probably hadn't been dead more than an hour.

The slick blood of the corpses and copious amounts of exposed intestines caused Korra to begin sliding as soon as she reached the crescent of pork chop hill. Korra gave a small cry as the slide took her to a gravel trail stained by multiple bloody footsteps. Ignoring the skin scraped off her hands by the gravel, Korra shakily got to her one good leg and tried to see where she was.

Maybe it was some supervillain's lair or a secret Nazi base undiscovered after the war and chock full of doomsday projects for Hellboy to fight.

One thing though stood out for Korra. Far in the background, far beyond many other hills of bodies, fresh, new and bones was a giant statue the size of Lady Liberty in New York City. Made of dark Iron alloys and inlaid with a rainbow of colours that the human eye was incapable of seeing, the skyline of the cave was dominated by a smiling man with long hair and wide, billowing duster. Arms were outstretched in both triumph and showmanship. Something about the man's smile seemed off, like the engineers and artists behind the giant sculpture had tried to make joyful exuberance but had instead created something hungry.

Korra winced uncomfortably at the statue. Something about it reminded her of the buff devil guy from the end of Fantasia.

There could be time later for statues and old childhood memories, there was still her wife. Her lost wife; badly wounded and landed god knows where. Any direction was as good as any other, so Korra began to limp down the gravel path. Her bruised hands fumbled for the phone in her pocket. Swearing loudly, she saw that there was no cell phone reception down here; as if Asami was in any condition to answer her phone. Still, it was all she had to go on.

It was the crunching of gravel that told Korra she was not alone; and she wasn't prepared to assume that the denizens of this underworld were friendly just yet.

A group of people came around the corner from behind another mountain of bones, they were predominantly male with just a few females and all were filthy and exhausted. Soot covered their clothes and the goggles they all wore over their eyes. To a man, everyone looked down at the ground as they slogged forward.

Then they noticed Korra. Or rather noticed her scent.

Suddenly, each and every one looked up and looked straight at her. The way they looked at her set Korra on edge. It was like she was a piece of chocolate cake. Forty filthy industrial workers stared her down with naked hunger.

Korra put up her fists and tried to get into a semi-decent fighting stance. "What the fuck are you looking at?" she shouted at them. "You try to fuck me and I'll cut your fucking nuts off!"

The crowd said nothing, feeding Korra's anger. After what she'd lost today, she'd kill anyone or anything that got in-between her and Asami. Her lip curled as the crowd gave an exhausted laugh at her defiance. Then one by one, they started to take their smudged goggles off.

Korra's eyes widened with shock at the worker's red eyes, and as their mouths opened to reveal fangs. The injured woman's eyes widened, but she did not step back, did not give ground. She'd seen enough horror movies and even a few teen romance movies; she knew what she was dealing with. "Come get some, fuckers!" she shouted, rage overtaking her. It felt good to feel the old rage, the same one that took her on every single one of her fights from her first brawls in Anchorage to the heights of international fighting tournaments.

The vampires started to move towards Korra, "It's been years since I had fresh blood," one of the females uttered in a weak voice. Everything about these vampires suggested they were starved and abused, ironically Korra was the one good thing in their unlives.

As Korra's breathing deepened and the vamps encircled her, the lot of them heard a sound. A vast, booming drumbeat shattered the silence and the vampire's weak mewlings of hunger and the craving for fresh blood.

It baffled Korra, as the flat electronic drumbeat reminded her of something out of a shitty nightclub. But the vampires shrieked and cried out as if the voice of god was speaking to them. Half fled straight away, while the rest began to recite . . . prayers?

The one female vampire, the first one to speak was praying. "O' Sacred Ancestor, let us be strong in consumerism and obedience; let your voice guide us and may your hand spare us, amen." And with that, she rushed out of there to make up for her lost time. The others who'd recited similar prayers were likewise fleeing like the devil was nipping at their heels.

Korra kept a hard look on her face, fists raised as she heard the screams of those who didn't run away fast enough. Then she heard the sound of massive footfalls on bones and on gravel.

The first of them came over the piles of corpses. They were easily two and a half meters tall each and had faces that seemed to be made of nothing but scar tissue and fresh shredded skin. Dull white eyes peeked over pulsing blue eye sacs and their jagged, yellowed teeth grinned, howled and shouted in a language that Korra could not understand.

Seven in total came, two coming from opposite ends of the gravel road. Shrieking and spitting caught Korra's attention, as she saw that the giant scar faced creatures were holding something on a leach.

Pale, blue veins and glistening eyes, the androgynous, starving beings struggled against their leashes as the giant black armoured beings held them at bay; occasionally beating them with large whips or quarterstaffs. As they got closer to Korra, the pale skinned creatures lower jaws split open vertically to expose worm like tongues for sucking blood.

The white skinned hairless mutants reached for Korra and their worm tongues writhed, but the mutilated hound keepers held them back with leashes and liberal beatings. In the gaps of their black, organic looking armour, insanely pumped muscles peeked out; barely draped in skin that was about to rip open and as scarified as their faces.

The one in front of her, one of two without a pale mutant on a leash, began to talk to her in that guttural language that sounded like some bird's hostile territorial cry. The thing chattered in a squawking tone and licked its shredded and almost non-existent lips. It ran its talons along the smooth cord like whip/staff weapon it was carrying and gestured to its groin.

This was just about enough for Korra; she put her hand to her ear and dropped her fist. "What?" she asked with mock misunderstanding. "What?" She spat on the ground and glared at their leader. "Eat shit, little man."

The leader seemed to understand and began to laugh; a braying, chattering sound that reminded her of hardened drug addicts—starved and insane, with nothing to lose. With lightning speed, the leader lashed out with its weapon. The weapon seemed to come to life and wrap around Korra's wrist; it made a hissing sound that caused her to widen her eyes.

What she'd assumed was a flexible piece of dark polymer was actually a genetically engineered snake and the weaponized serpent was staring her down with that thousand yard stare that only snakes can pull off.

The serpent staff opened its maw to expose dripping venomous fangs. Falling into reflex, Korra lashed out with her free arm and clamped the snake's mouth shut; her fist closing over the front half of its snout.

Her arm however was torn away as the beast behind her caught her limb with his snake staff. With a tug, the two snakes pulled her arms apart until Korra was sure that her arms would tear out of their sockets.

The snakes arched their bodies so that Korra was lifted off the ground. Legs thrashing, Korra clamped her jaws shut as her leg flailing fucked up her knee worse than it already was. Gasping for breath and exhausted, she missed it when two more of the mutilated monsters brought a massive wooden x-shaped construct with shackles on it.

Cold steel clamped around her wrists and ankles, shredding her skin in the process. The scent of blood caused the pale mutants to go berserk, they lunged forward, nearly toppling their handlers. Reacting with instinctive fury, the mutilated men began to beat their charges into submission not just with snake staffs but with their fists, claws and boot heels. While they got their dogs in order, the leader grabbed the wooden beam that Korra was chained to and lifted it over his head.

Korra yelled, swore and threatened as the wooden x was adjusted so she was lying on her back; then the party began to head into civilization. As she screamed and the full realization of her situation came upon her, she let out a loud, desperate, frightened cry. "ASAMI!" She screamed out that name again and again, hoping that her wounded lover would hear her. "ASAMI!"

She refused to cry, because if Asami was dead right now then there wouldn't be enough salty tears in the world to bring her back.

The party wound through the gravel trail until they came onto a fully paved road. A fully paved parking lot lay before them. In the center of it all was a limousine, as non-descript as they come. Surrounding the limousine was a collection of vampires in a mix of medieval armour and modern tactical gear. The vamps carried a variety of swords, halberds and modern firearms but to a man they all wore identical helmets that covered their eyes and faces while leaving their mouths exposed to bite and tear.

The vampire guards surrounded the limousine in a circle. Surrounding the vamp guards were human servants. Unlike the vamps, the humans wore no main uniform. They wore bondage gear, Klan hoods, military surplus equipment, swimwear, old police uniforms and more. The only unifying feature of the human thralls was their covered faces; as if they were not worthy of having an identity. The human guards looked at Korra with intensity under their varying masks; holding both hatred and lust in their eyes. Their guns aimed at the prisoner of the Sacred Ancestor.

Then the human thralls and vampire guards parted for him. Korra focused in on the tall man in red who'd watched her and Asami leave the hotel earlier tonight.

Alucard.

Korra didn't know him. She'd never even heard of him, but he was the High King of the Vampires. Their Emperor.

But there was no way she could ever mistake him. From his wide hat, full red lips and shark like grin he was a figure who could be spotted easily. Yet the easy smile from his shark toothed mouth, the long feminine eyelashes and fancy cane; it could all be a trickster in a children's story or even a comic book anti-hero.

Alucard smiled at Korra, the picture of ease, class and kindness. He was the kindly king, the sweet ruler. He was Albus Dumbledore; manipulative as all fuck but totally benevolent and with the greatest of good intentions.

Alucard smiled as he eyed Korra, who'd stopped crying Asami's name and was now cursing him and swearing at him. Her defiance and anger made him hard in the pants. He smiled and looked over to his assistant, Seras Victoria. "Police girl, what can you tell me about this eskimo snow-nigger?"

The large chested woman in a stripper's uniform fearfully looked at the dossier in front of her and read it to her king. "Um, Name: Korra Kumaglak. Age: Twenty-five. Orientation: Gender-queer. Charged for drunken-disorderly at age fourteen, seven arrests for public brawling. Black belt by age eighteen in Karate. Master in Tai-chi at age fifteen. Master of Hun-gar at age sixteen. Master of Northern Shao-Lin at age seventeen. Still has not mastered Bag-Wa though has made impressive gains. Married to Asami Sato and no children."

Alucard waved that all off. "Never mind any of that, repeat her name for me."

Seras glanced down at the list, fearful of the beating this would earn her later. "Korra Kumaglak."

Alucard's eyes widened and his yellowish tinted gums flashed, "Korra! Crazy Korra! I like this name." He said with all the glee of a small child.

The King of the Vampires stood up, his guards and minions stepping aside, the mutilated men bowed so low it looked like they could fall over and even the pale mutant vampires were as submissive dogs.

Two steps with the clicking of his fancy silver cane on the pavement and he was eye to eye with Korra, who spat on the vampire king. Alucard didn't even notice the gob of snot on his duster. He looked Korra in the face and she was repulsed. Superficially he was attractive, but a close glance dispelled all of that. The blood vessels in his eyes alternated between red and yellow and crusts had started to form at the corner of his eyes. His skin actually seemed to sparkle, but rather than make him more beautiful it just looked like glass dust was ground into his skin and that if you touched him it would shred your skin off.

"I watched your fight through Mikasa's eyes," Alucard explained in a musical baritone voice, "Your skills were exceptional and I might even be convinced to take you on for that alone, but you've got things holding you back, things that need to be removed. Commitment to me needs to be total, to my ideals, to my brand and my ideology. Think of me as your husband, the head of your life. Let me do the thinking for you."

Korra gnashed her teeth at him and swore, "Fucker! I'll kick your ass!"

Alucard kept smiling, particularly when he swung with his pine wood and silver cane and smashed the captive woman across the mouth. Korra spat out a tooth, and met Alucard's red gaze; refusing to be backed down or intimidated. Even if he started raping her up the ass she wouldn't look away.

"Fucking tough guy," she mocked, "My mom has a hat like yours. You a faggot?" She gave a rueful laugh, finding the vampire king humorous.

He continued, "I can be the greatest thing in your life and free you in ways you never imagined. To do so, I first have to challenge you with a little artwork," He turned to his guard unit of vampires and the captain nodded. A radio squawked and another party joined the Sacred Ancestor and the martial artist.

Vampire soldiers arrived, their equipment patched up heavily and ratty , but their uniformity marked them clearly higher than the human war slaves. Strapped to an x-shaped beam like Korra was Mikasa, or what was left of her.

Gummy yellow intestines dragged across the pavement and half the skin on her face was missing. She saw the world through her half deflated eye, as her other eye was completely gone. Her breathing went in and out with a high pitched whistling sound like each breath was pure hell. Mikasa's arms struggled against the chains. Raw seething hatred painted across her torn face.

Alucard appeared genuinely sad as he gestured to his fallen assassin, who was following him as best she could with his ruined eye. "I took Mikasa's voice and enslaved her mind, but it looks like your fight shook loose her old personality. She hates me, and I don't know how I can deal with that. It hurts me to see her like this."

Before Korra could curse the both of them, Alucard reached up and jammed the end of his cane into her mouth. The prisoner gagged and her eyes watered at the violation of her mouth. Gently, Alucard rocked the cane back and forth in Korra's mouth like a cock. He very much enjoyed her gagging and it took away from his sad feelings over Mikasa's independence.

"Because Mikasa broke loose from my magic, I'll never be able to bind her again; so there is only one option." He closed his eyes as he thrust the cane faster and faster into Korra's mouth. "Relinquishing direct control." His voice came out eerily flanged.

The broken but unbeaten woman Mikasa arched what was left of her back as yellow light flashed from all her remaining orifices. The light went out and everything went slack. Mikasa Ackerman was dead. Soon she'd be another body in the dump.

The cane tip went in and out faster and faster, aroused and thrilled by the sight of the mutilated dead woman; just look at those sexy entrails, those pale lips and hair colour so natural only the undertaken knew for sure.

Korra vomited all around the Kane tip and all over the front of her shirt. Alucard quickly pulled the proxy cock before his new wifu could choke on her own vomit. "As my servant," he explained, "Your job will be to collect meat. The freshest meat goes onto the meat hooks for my supper table; anything else goes into the pit. Any subject in my kingdom, small or great, lord or pauper can help themselves to free meat and the cold but still nutritious blood in the bodies. Eating from human beings directly is forbidden, as it tarnishes the constitution of vampires and makes them indolent; sour but plentiful food and meat from the trains and blood banks reminds them the joys of deprivation and the love for their Sacred Ancestor, me."

Struggling and regaining her breath after her violation, Korra raised her head in time to see a third party entering the parking lot. More armed vampires, but more of a ragtag militia than trained soldiers. None of them had any consistent uniform and all had weapons and gear dating at least as far back as the Vietnam War.

The militia's shouted and laughed, jubilant from the once in a lifetime boon their master had granted them. The Vampire King had made an exception and allowed them to partake of human blood. So they danced and laughed around their special little souvenir.

That was when Korra's world froze. She saw Asami again . . . and for the last time. Asami's eyes were glazed and lookup upwards unfocused. Her mouth was slack and jaw hung wide open and her now bloodied hair bounced up and down with the movement of the dancing vampires.

The militia had cut off Asami's head and stuck it on a pike. The vampire militia was dancing around her head like some prize from a big game hunt. They laughed, joked and in various languages talked about using the still warm mouth on the head.

That was when Korra finally lost it. She began to scream incoherently, fighting her chains and foaming at the mouth. All though was gone from her mind. Her sole desire was to die and take this motherfucker Alucard with her. For with Asami gone, her life was over and there was no more reason.

The agony that tore through her heart upon seeing her wife degraded so was worse than any death, torture or rape that the vampire minions could thrust on her.

Alucard smiled and took off his hat. Passing off his cane and cap to the guard captain he purred with pleasure, "The last of your ties has been cut. You may now serve me until I see fit to release you." He took off his long red coat and threw back his long black hair. He nodded to the mutilated men and they grinned at their assigned task.

Clawed hands ripped open Korra's shirt and tore off her bra. Korra continued to rave and tried to bite the hands pawing over her. Suddenly, her howling of agony and rage was cut off when the clawed fingers of the mutilated men stuck deep into her chest. She made a small gasp right before the creature's mighty arms opened up her ribcage like two rusty doors.

With her lungs and heart exposed, a long, dry rattling left Korra's throat like leaves in the wind and her eyes began to dull.

At the same time, Alucard tore open his own ribcage, exposing black and yellow organs of unknown design and purpose. The only thing even remotely recognizable about the tangle of meat in his chest was the enlarged and fatty looking heart that shook every few seconds with a weak pump. "I am assuming direct control" his voice flanged again.

With a rip and a shriek, his own heart and several other organs jumped out of his chest! Taking on a life and hunger of their own, Alucard's fleshy bits leapt from his body directly onto a dying Korra's exposed innards.

The heart grew fangs and devoured hers, putting out fleshy fungal tendrils and sinking them into the surrounding nerve, muscle and tissue. The other organs moved to devour Korra's inborn parts and infect her body anew. Her dying lips moved silently with unbearable cries of pain.

As her vision went black, Korra's head fell forward and Alucard's voice was the last thing she heard, a dark, lustful voice that also sounded fatherly. All mine now, my Crazy Korra.



Korra gave Mako a high five, "This is going to be fucking awesome!"

Mako smiled back at her, "You're going to be a beast in that Bulgarian tournament. Nobody has heart like you do."

Korra laughed, "Well part of it is due to my frequent and kinky sex with my wife, that helps keep the pounds off; but also I gotta thank my nice little nutritionist."

The dark haired man chuckled, "You were good, Korra, but Jesus Christ, before you cleaned up your diet I never saw anyone put away as much salt and trans fats as you do."

Playfully, she punched him on the shoulder, "Fucker," she laughed. "So to celebrate my making the qualifier for the Mixed Gender European Historical Martial arts tournament do you want to do coffee?"

"Sure!" Mako agreed enthusiastically.

And then the two of them made eye contact, I mean, really made eye contact. One look was all it took, one second of attraction that neither of them knew they could have. One little look led Korra to betray Asami

Insid her mind, Korra screamed and beat at the walls of her brain. In the real world, her body was dressed in the same gray suit that Mikasa had worn and living in the same hotel room that Mikasa Ackerman had stayed during her imprisonment.

While her body went through lizard brain driven automatic movement, her higher mind screamed and pleaded, begging to stop watching over and over the moments that led up to her betrayal.

Asami's severed head on a pike bounced up and down . . .

The visions of her adultery were alternated with Asami's final form.

"Please! Asami! I'm so sorry! Asami, make it stop!"

Korra's body, now pale as a white woman and with a new haircut went and grabed her semi-expensive wristwatch, which had her name engraved on it.

Scenes of her and Mako fucking flashed across her mental eye. The two of them sweated and rutted like dogs in heat. She'd never been attracted to men, but some alignment of the stars had made sex with Mako feel great. It was only after the fucking was over that she started to feel the wrong

Mentally, Korra pleaded and begged for Asami to forgive her, begged her to come back and most of all begged for this dream to be over.

Korra's body moved to grab the veterinarian's bag and the dossier of which trains to hit.

The endless battery of images tore apart at Korra inside and out "Please" she cried silently, "Forgive me, Asami!"

Korra's body went out the door ready for a night of murder.

Korra gave Mako a high five, "This is going to be fucking awesome!"


I hope you enjoyed this little Halloween story :) I got the idea for this after watching the movie Midnight Meat Train. I had a whole load of fun writing with this. I apologize to anybody I may have offended for using the n-word near the end.

And for anybody who didn't spot it, the mutilated men were the Yuuzhan-Vong from Star Wars expanded universe and they had on leashes reapers from Blade 2.

This fic itself is a spinoff of my story, All the Pretty things.

So with that said, I hope you had a ton of fun reading this and I look forward to your reviews and criticisms :)

Ta

Master of the Boot

  • Listening to: Third degree: by Tahee Cain
  • Reading: Fanfiction
  • Watching: Team fortress SFM movies
  • Playing: Splatterhouse
  • Eating: supper
  • Drinking: beer
   Hey gang!!!

I know I've been busy, but I'm not dead.

I have had a bit of a tragedy. I let my roommate borrow my laptop and he accidently uploaded something that caused my computer to crash. The result was that Sokka versus Hannibal was totally erased. I was able to save my work on Mental vs Cycloids by emailing it to a friend for review but Sokka vs Hannibal is irretrievably deleted.

And frankly I'm a bit choked by that.

Still much as that saddens me I still have Mental vs Cycloids and another friend who edited some work on my rebel alliance profile gave me half of what I'd written before, so it's half alive.

My schedule is hella busy, so I haven't done as much chatting or writing as I used to, but I'm doing enough writing to keep happy.

So I'm going to redo Hannibal vs Sokka, better written and more exciting than before.

And as a bonus, here's a little preview of my Death Battle: Vampire Royale :) enjoy.

=============================================

Dracula held the handkerchief over his face. The stench was overwhelming. It smelled like a hospital ward; rotting skin, badly functioning kidneys and overflowing bedpans. It reminded the count of the final days of the black plague that tore apart Europe all those centuries ago.

Sitting in front of him with a TV turned on was the scout. Dracula's eyes narrowed. Scout was slouched in his chair and there was no heartbeat or breathing.

The count stepped forward, careful to avoid the clear and rapidly drying pool of . . . guano? Tick shit? Whatever the stuff was.

He put a hand on the Scout, only for the young man to fall out of his chair and land on the wooden floor of the Red Team's base. Scout's skin was pale and his hair was falling out in patches. he seemed dead, but Dracula could feel the feverish heat radiating off his body and on a much more psychic level could feel cell division and biological life carrying on. And he could hear almost what sounded like . . . worms maybe, crawling inside Scout's body.

The ancient vampire looked dispassionately at the Scout. He'd intended to kill the boy, but it looked like somebody had beaten him to it. That someone needed to be eliminated.

He turned around, getting ready to morph into a bat and fly off when he heard something.

Spinning around, he saw the Scout getting up. The young man wobbled on the spot as if drunk. His unfocused eyes rolled around the room, not really seeing anything. Suddenly, his eyes stopped on the Count, a clicking noise forming in Scout's throat as he did so.

"Mr. Renfield?" Dracula asked, confused by the creature that the Scout had become.

Scout was truly gone, and the creature in his place had a fast and violent response to the count. From out of his mouth shot a long tentacle appendage like an inverted esophagous. The bone stinger shone in the sick TV light and flew toward's the Count's throat. Responding like a coiled cobra, Dracula grabbed the ex-Scout's tentacle tongue in mid air.

The Count flew at the infected Scout, fangs gleaming and eyes blood red. Holding the tentacle in his right hand, he raised his left hand and smashed the Scout's collar bone wit ha loud crack. The creature shrieked, causing the Count to grin madly; good, the little beast could feel pain.

Scout's hands groped blindly for Dracula. The Count in turn grabbed Scout's right arm and twisted, breaking the wrist bone and dislocating the elbow joint. More shrieks from the infected beast made the Count's smile widen. Planting a foot on Scout's chest, he pulled with all his might. With a small tear and a pop, the tentacle tongue tore out; spewing white blood and thing horsehair like worms everywhere.

The Scout creature was thrown against a wall as the Count threw a punch at its head almost strong enough to knock its head off. Tired of toying with this creature, Dracula threw down the tongue and grabbed the Scout-creature by the throat. The thing incoherently shrieked; a gibbering mindless noise of a wounded creature. There was no intelligence in there, but as Dracula scanned the monster's mind, he could feel a presence. Somehting was using the Scout's body, controlling it like a puppet.

Dracula snarled and bared his fangs, "I'm coming for you," he said to the mysterious puppet master. Smiling once more, he put both his hands around Scout's had and began to press in. The Scout creature gave one last shriek of pain before Dracula crushed its head between his hands. The Count grinned as the body fell to the floor; the white blood not bothering him one bit.

BOOM!!!!

That was when Dracula heard the explosion.

Skinner sweet was happier than a pig in shit. He fired his BAR into the air to wake up the Team Fortress Mercs. This wasn't just a job for him, this was about having a good time--the violent kind.

"Oh Mercs!" Skinner sang, "Come out to plaaaa---aaayyyy!!!!!!"

Up in the RED base, Dracula looked out the window at Skinner and seethed with rage. So there was not one but two freaks challenging his authority here. Both would suffer.

Skinner caught sight of Dracula and with is BAR put a bullet right through Dracula's eye. The American vampire laughed as the Count was knocked back by the shot.

Meanwhile, in the sewers of 2Fort, Sardu crouched in the darkness. The ancient monster was hunched over, clad in filth encrusted and thousand times patched brown robes. He heard the violence above and sensed the two other vampires getting ready to fight.


Interesting, he purred to himself in a psychic voice.

=====================

It's a rough draft but I hope you like it :)
  • Listening to: Third degree: by Tahee Cain
  • Reading: Fanfiction
  • Watching: Team fortress SFM movies
  • Playing: Splatterhouse
  • Eating: supper
  • Drinking: beer
   Hey gang!!!

I know I've been busy, but I'm not dead.

I have had a bit of a tragedy. I let my roommate borrow my laptop and he accidently uploaded something that caused my computer to crash. The result was that Sokka versus Hannibal was totally erased. I was able to save my work on Mental vs Cycloids by emailing it to a friend for review but Sokka vs Hannibal is irretrievably deleted.

And frankly I'm a bit choked by that.

Still much as that saddens me I still have Mental vs Cycloids and another friend who edited some work on my rebel alliance profile gave me half of what I'd written before, so it's half alive.

My schedule is hella busy, so I haven't done as much chatting or writing as I used to, but I'm doing enough writing to keep happy.

So I'm going to redo Hannibal vs Sokka, better written and more exciting than before.

And as a bonus, here's a little preview of my Death Battle: Vampire Royale :) enjoy.

=============================================

Dracula held the handkerchief over his face. The stench was overwhelming. It smelled like a hospital ward; rotting skin, badly functioning kidneys and overflowing bedpans. It reminded the count of the final days of the black plague that tore apart Europe all those centuries ago.

Sitting in front of him with a TV turned on was the scout. Dracula's eyes narrowed. Scout was slouched in his chair and there was no heartbeat or breathing.

The count stepped forward, careful to avoid the clear and rapidly drying pool of . . . guano? Tick shit? Whatever the stuff was.

He put a hand on the Scout, only for the young man to fall out of his chair and land on the wooden floor of the Red Team's base. Scout's skin was pale and his hair was falling out in patches. he seemed dead, but Dracula could feel the feverish heat radiating off his body and on a much more psychic level could feel cell division and biological life carrying on. And he could hear almost what sounded like . . . worms maybe, crawling inside Scout's body.

The ancient vampire looked dispassionately at the Scout. He'd intended to kill the boy, but it looked like somebody had beaten him to it. That someone needed to be eliminated.

He turned around, getting ready to morph into a bat and fly off when he heard something.

Spinning around, he saw the Scout getting up. The young man wobbled on the spot as if drunk. His unfocused eyes rolled around the room, not really seeing anything. Suddenly, his eyes stopped on the Count, a clicking noise forming in Scout's throat as he did so.

"Mr. Renfield?" Dracula asked, confused by the creature that the Scout had become.

Scout was truly gone, and the creature in his place had a fast and violent response to the count. From out of his mouth shot a long tentacle appendage like an inverted esophagous. The bone stinger shone in the sick TV light and flew toward's the Count's throat. Responding like a coiled cobra, Dracula grabbed the ex-Scout's tentacle tongue in mid air.

The Count flew at the infected Scout, fangs gleaming and eyes blood red. Holding the tentacle in his right hand, he raised his left hand and smashed the Scout's collar bone wit ha loud crack. The creature shrieked, causing the Count to grin madly; good, the little beast could feel pain.

Scout's hands groped blindly for Dracula. The Count in turn grabbed Scout's right arm and twisted, breaking the wrist bone and dislocating the elbow joint. More shrieks from the infected beast made the Count's smile widen. Planting a foot on Scout's chest, he pulled with all his might. With a small tear and a pop, the tentacle tongue tore out; spewing white blood and thing horsehair like worms everywhere.

The Scout creature was thrown against a wall as the Count threw a punch at its head almost strong enough to knock its head off. Tired of toying with this creature, Dracula threw down the tongue and grabbed the Scout-creature by the throat. The thing incoherently shrieked; a gibbering mindless noise of a wounded creature. There was no intelligence in there, but as Dracula scanned the monster's mind, he could feel a presence. Somehting was using the Scout's body, controlling it like a puppet.

Dracula snarled and bared his fangs, "I'm coming for you," he said to the mysterious puppet master. Smiling once more, he put both his hands around Scout's had and began to press in. The Scout creature gave one last shriek of pain before Dracula crushed its head between his hands. The Count grinned as the body fell to the floor; the white blood not bothering him one bit.

BOOM!!!!

That was when Dracula heard the explosion.

Skinner sweet was happier than a pig in shit. He fired his BAR into the air to wake up the Team Fortress Mercs. This wasn't just a job for him, this was about having a good time--the violent kind.

"Oh Mercs!" Skinner sang, "Come out to plaaaa---aaayyyy!!!!!!"

Up in the RED base, Dracula looked out the window at Skinner and seethed with rage. So there was not one but two freaks challenging his authority here. Both would suffer.

Skinner caught sight of Dracula and with is BAR put a bullet right through Dracula's eye. The American vampire laughed as the Count was knocked back by the shot.

Meanwhile, in the sewers of 2Fort, Sardu crouched in the darkness. The ancient monster was hunched over, clad in filth encrusted and thousand times patched brown robes. He heard the violence above and sensed the two other vampires getting ready to fight.


Interesting, he purred to himself in a psychic voice.

=====================

It's a rough draft but I hope you like it :)
  • Listening to: Third degree: by Tahee Cain
  • Reading: Fanfiction
  • Watching: Team fortress SFM movies
  • Playing: Splatterhouse
  • Eating: supper
  • Drinking: beer
I finally have my own laptop now :) after so long borrowing someone else's computer and in an environment where I can freely write, I feel like a million bucks :)

Here's a little something to celebrate,

www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ppyw6x…

As of tomorrow I'll be able to write and read a lot more than I used to
  • Listening to: Third degree: by Tahee Cain
  • Reading: Fanfiction
  • Watching: Team fortress SFM movies
  • Playing: Splatterhouse
  • Eating: supper
  • Drinking: beer
Hello!!!!

www.youtube.com/watch?v=2Ymjj7…


The wife and I are heading out to a haunted house soon, and later tonight I'll serenade you with my Halloween Costume :) Gonna be Bronson from the movie of the same name, the film about the psychotic british convict.

In the meanwhile, I've written you all a nice Halloween story both here and on my fanfiction account :) do Enjoy ;)

deviantID

Master-of-the-Boot's Profile Picture
Master-of-the-Boot
just call me George
Artist | Hobbyist | Literature
Canada
Current Residence: British Columbia
Print preference: The Pen
Favourite genre of music: Heavy Metal
Favourite photographer: N/A
Favourite style of art: fan art and HR Geiger
Operating System: dunno
Favourite cartoon character: Tintin
Personal Quote: Andrew Breitbart likes to fuck children to death with cacti while fantasising about fisting his mother in the ass. Just throwing that out there.
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:icontea78iscool:
tea78iscool Featured By Owner 1 hour ago
happy halloween.:)
Reply
:iconartistic-highblood11:
Artistic-Highblood11 Featured By Owner 22 hours ago  Hobbyist Digital Artist
Psssst, hey boot, wanna see some of my art?
Reply
:iconmadnessabe:
MadnessAbe Featured By Owner Oct 21, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
Hey, made this for your next upcoming battle: sta.sh/01ndc1nbxvoy
Reply
:iconyoungsamurai18:
YoungSamurai18 Featured By Owner Oct 17, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
Reply
:iconmsowolf:
MSOwolf Featured By Owner Oct 5, 2014  Hobbyist Artist
TY 4 THE FAVE GEORGE
Reply
:iconeldoctorgoredealer:
ElDoctorGoredealer Featured By Owner Sep 15, 2014
George!, thanks so much for teh feedback. If you can check out our brand new animated video and vote, comment or share it, I´d really appreciate it. Colombian sci-fi art about the armed conflict on two video clip contests.

www.talenthouse.com/i/367/subm…

anticorruptionmusic.org/?video…

¡Cheers!
Reply
:iconyoungsamurai18:
YoungSamurai18 Featured By Owner Sep 1, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
Hey, Boot? Cole vs Cole's up.
Reply
:iconsluglo:
sluglo Featured By Owner Aug 31, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
Hey Boot, not to rush you or anything, but I'm gonna need a bit of help on the verdict of Freddy Krueger VS Pyramid Head. Considering you did Pyramid Head, I'd like to hear your opinion.
Reply
:iconmaster-of-the-boot:
Master-of-the-Boot Featured By Owner Aug 31, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
No prob, will vote soon
Reply
:icontea78iscool:
tea78iscool Featured By Owner Sep 21, 2014
hello whatsup?
Reply
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