Chapter Text
He’s made a plethora of bad decisions this night. Since the previous day, he hasn’t let any new tenants in and FEMA took two—damn them— instead of one person the last night. Now all he had was himself.. and the neighbors daughter.
The last potential candidates were obviously not human, features lacking the nuance that made it human in the first place; but at the very least, the blatant visitor cared about her cat enough.
His features were scrunched, anxiety webbing within him. If he couldn’t get two new tenants before FEMA got here.. no, he shouldn’t think about that. He couldn’t let the neighbors daughter see the only adult left in her life breaking even for a moment.
it would be fine. It had to be.
He would rather brutally kill the FEMA bastards with his bare hands instead of letting them take her away, he thought bitterly.
Yet the world has always laughed at his misery.
He leaves the peephole momentarily to stretch his back, joints crackling as he popped his shoulders. Then he hears it. A telltale knock.
In his stomach, he knows. He takes the rifle from his back, aiming it at the doorway. Ears listening carefully, attempting to keep his breath steady. It could be a guest. It could be his saving grace, yet an all knowing, instinctive feeling crawls up his spine.
“We require more test subjects from you,” His skin prickled, recognizing the nauseous voice of the FEMA agent.
“I don’t have any more fucking guests after you took them, so unless you’ll give one of them back, then scram.” His own voice was grating to his ears, exhausted and sour.
“For fucks sake,” a bang resounded from the door, his grip on the rifle tightening. “You don’t have a choice, you hear me? Enjoy the view behind me? That’s what happens when stubborn assholes like you get in our way,” the FEMA agent clicked his tongue, pausing. There was mumbling happening on the other side of the door, the homeowner realized.
Sounds of multiple voices. The scuffling of multiple shoes.
Shit. The agent was not alone this time.
How many were there? From the sounds of it, maybe ten or even fourteen. He heard some steps in the grass after all. Though there was one so quiet, it must’ve been much further. It sounded taller than the rest, crackling with glee.
Pressing his lips to a fine line, his brain racked itself to conjure up a plan. He was only human. A gun could kill the FEMA officer— but multiple? He’d be found before the next day, bloody remains with his guts spilled out. The neighbors daughter would be taken. She would be taken and be used for god knows what. His mind was screaming at him as the FEMA officer paused their sentence to mumble something to someone behind them.
Breathe, he tells himself, exhaling the sharp icy air through his nostrils.
“Listen. Resist, and it’ll happen again. We are doing this to protect this city, so no one else has to die! Just. Give us. The. People.”
“I don’t have anyone inside but me!” He shouted, voice laid bare. He was not letting them take her—
“We know you have that kid in there, so make it easy for us, else we’ll count to three!”
If he died here, maybe it’ll serve something for his pitiful existence. That he’d do something right for once. But when his head fwipped around to see the little girl— the neighbors daughter— hiding by the edge of the wall, when did she get there? he was snapped out of his thoughts, the pull of darkness loosening its deathly hold, fingertips of a cold grip leaving his body. For the first time in so long, he knows.
Knows what he absolutely won’t let happen.
Quickly he lowered his gun, keeping one hand free, he strides to her, every doubt vanishing as he remembers. Remembers what he couldn’t do before and what he’ll do now. It grounds him in a twisted way.
Don’t think about it, he berates himself. Not now. Not here.
He kneels with one foot, a calloused hand gripping the child’s trembling form. And a memory comes to mind, he’s reminded of all the times he’s refused the little girls requests to be “embraced.” He wasn’t one for physical contact, after all. But seeing her eyes full of tears, worse shape than he’d ever seen her, his blood runs cold and as his system is high in adrenaline, he falters. Rethinks his values and ever so gently cracks. There isn’t much time, and he knows that- so he does what he’d never do unless he’s unsure whether of not he’d be here to see her again. He ends up bringing her to a tight embrace, soaking up her sobs.
“Y-y-you.. they won’t kill you, will they mister?” She says between the cries. The shouting from the other side of the front door is excruciating loud, so with his wrapped arm he covers one of her ears. It’s an.. effort.
“You think they can kill me? Remember the story I told you about the woods?” He scoffed, hug tightening. He felt something wet prickle his shirt, but he realized it was his own.
Weak. Weak, pathetic—
He couldn’t show weakness to a child. Yet fear is human nature; and being one is to fear what you cannot change.
Distantly he drops the gun, knowing this might be the last hug he could give her. The realization is vitriol on his tongue.
“T-That you ruled the forest, the little animals k-knew you were their hun…sob, hunter- a-and so all the animals were a-scared of you instead?” She shook in his hold and he tried his best to give her reassurance.
“Even the bears. And there were ten of them I single-handedly made quick work of.” He sighed with a fake sense of pride. But she wasn’t convinced. “I don’t believe you,” she sniffled.
“Alright. So, let’s play a little game.”
“You never played with me, why now?” Her tear soaked face crinkled slightly.
“Because I say so. What, you don’t wanna play? Didn’t know you were a chicken.. remember what you said about being a chicken?” He mocked her playfully. Fuck he was so bad at this.
“F-fine.” She frowned, disliking the extra comment.
He lets go of her small shoulders, readjusting the gun to be nearer to him. The bangs outside were getting harder to ignore, and he knew the minuscule time frame before they broke in grew slimmer every ticking second.
“You’re gonna go to my room, go underneath my bed and make sure to not make a sound or leave until I come and get you. Lock the door. If you dont, the monster will come in and force you to eat beans.” The little girls face immediately recoiled into disgust. “The reeeally nasty beans, with that extra spicy sauce you hate. Oh, and mushrooms. Lots of mushrooms.” He squeezed her shoulders one last time.
“Better hurry, I bet he’s coming any minute now,” he smiled with a tired look in his eyes. The neighbors daughter searched it for a moment, as if to say please don’t die here. Don’t leave me alone.
He makes a biting motion with his hand, mimicking a spoon with beans and eating the air to coax her.
“I’m going, I’m going!” The girl so quickly hopped up and ran to the bedroom.
For once he had a reason to live.
Yet ironically death never tasted so close, so certain.
He got up, hoisted his gun into position, pulse thrumming as he readied the trigger.
A burst of wood flew, splintering in ways that could not be repaired. A gunshot rang out, and he was tackled into the ground, wood splinters scraping his back. The burn was quickly replaced with a punch to his bad shoulder, his own rifle escaping distantly out of his grip. His teeth gritted in pain as he threw the offending agent to the side, but was entangled, secured by the wrists in a death grip.
For split second, his eyes flitted to the now open doorframe, other FEMA agents not paying any attention to him, and in the whirlwind of thoughts he found that so strange, that all their guns we’re aimed the opposite direction of the house—
they were looking far ahead before the shots rang out—
—and in the split second, he saw a blur of familiar paleness until the multitude of gunfire roared in its wake. Admist the rapid succession of gunfire, they bullets were replaced with blood, the screams replaced with crackling of bones. For the split second, he saw it, the thing that kept pestering him since the beginning of this shitshow of a cataclysm.
He recognized those pale hands, strewn with superhuman strength and ears with impeccable hearing. That smile that only ever faltered if you mentioned Her. Those deadly hands looked sharper than usual. They mimicked claws. He knew exactly who it belonged to.
The pale visitor.
His eyes were blown wide, locking eyes with the monster for a waking second, and despite him wearing his usual manic grin, one raw emotion was etched onto the pale man’s face: unfiltered rage.
But he didn’t feel the anger directed at him.
A sickening crackle of bones and guts was strewn about, sounds of fizzing and popping filling the air as the monster tore one of the FEMA agent’s arms clean off.
No longer watching the carnage outside, the revolting screams gurgled in the background, calling upon a savior that would never come, the homeowner snapped his head to the side before swinging his bruised hand into the FEMA agents noggin.
“You fucker—!” The agent cried, and he followed up with a headbutt, causing the goggles to split and evoked a painful cry, allowing the man in the hazmat suit to release the death grip he had on him.
The screams in his mind and his reality overlapped, heartbeat thrumming wildly as bloodied hands crawled to reach for his rifle, before being grabbed by the back of his shirt, and a revenge headbutt in the back of his neck.
Buckling in pain, the homeowner swore expletives under his breath, praying his neck wasn’t broken. Before he could recover, he was then held down again by the FEMA agent, and hit again, again, and again—
He kicked the yellow bastard off him before reclaiming his gun, then swinging the back of it onto the attackers head, prompting a bloody cry from the agent, who, if he had no protective gear on, would be dead ten times over. He returned the favor with gritted teeth, slamming the rifle on the neck, the face, the sternum, and once he was finally down the human took a step on top of the agent to deliver one final swing, arms raised above his head—
Until one of the dying agents from outside, yellow tarnished with crimson gore, spotted him and ran at him as he swung, causing the homeowner to topple over, losing the gun in the process.
Shit, shit—
He scrambled for the gun, until he rolled over, overpowering the dying man, his fingers finding the right spot on the neck like second nature as he started choking the last bits of life out of him. One gloved hand tried to peel his hands off, and he realized through the bloody mess that the agent was missing his other arm, which was ripped from the visitor. Within ten seconds, the struggling hand fell limp, befallen into the deep unconsciousness.
“See you in hell,” he muttered darkly before turning around, only to be met with gun—his own rifle— staring back at him, encompassed by the first beaten agent’s hand. When did he get up?!
“Can’t believe you’ve got a fucking monster at your side, the things people do for survival.” The FEMA agent’s voice cracked, breath ragged as he struggled through the broken mask.
He glared, not at the rifle at his neck, but at the officer.
“I’ll still rethink doing this if you get down and apologize, then come with us in the place of the two test subjects,” he added through his teeth.
They must be running low to negotiate like this, he concluded numbly.
“Fine.”
The agent cocked his head in surprise. “Seriously?”
“When I see you in hell,” he spat venomously through swollen lips.
“I warned you.”
His vision shook as bile pooled in his throat. He messed up. He should’ve been more cautious.
He could feel the anxiousness in his stomach crawl its way out, begging for its remains to be vomited, and his heartbeat was pounding faster. Faster than the time he killed the wrong kind. They weren’t a visitor.
Absentmindedly, all he could feel wasn’t peace like he thought he would, but regret. Regret rooted in his core, for the sins he rightfully bears. That very acidic regret that bubbled through his skin, and he laughed. Laughed darkly at the fact he realized throughout all this mess he didn’t want to die. Not like this. Not by a monster wearing a humans skin, not until he would be sure his the child would be safe. The coldness was unbearable. So he decided to close his eyes, to feel that sweet sweet embrace of death to envelope him sooner.
He felt as if his heart stop, memories flickering through his closed eyes like a picture book of unopened memories; ones that should be sealed for the pain it brought hurt more than any mortal wound. His soul wavered, grasping something akin to the sky, an endless sea of clouds along with a foreign storm that resembled a creature. He felt the ground creep up onto him, as if securing his legs as to greet the homeowner, but his feet sunk again.
The creature akin to Death felt so close, within the tempest of wind he felt the need to reach for it, but before he could it spoke one phrase, soft and something outworldly.
“You mortal, must return. It is not your time yet.”
And he breathed once more, eye slowly squinting open as the impending gunshot never came.
Instead, the agent was raised from the ground, lifted higher by a silhouette behind it, lifted by the claw inside gaping wound, a hand stabbing from the agent’s back to his stomach, Scarlett dribbling down as the fist cut through the weak layers of human flesh.
The serene glow of moonlight peered through the open doorframe, casting the shadow to obscure the intruders face.
A body, the agents body, was thrown to the side of the room, and he was sure he was next as he studied the visitors obscured face, the scent of iron and death prominent in the house now that his rush of adrenaline was over.
“You.”
The visitor tilted his head, but something was.. different.
“Howdy.”
“You humans are pathetic.” The creature cackled, motioning to the cold bodies but his tone lacked its usual teeth. “Did you miss me?”
He couldn’t see any distinguishing details through the overcast of shadows. He furrowed his brows, unsure why his gut yelled at him that something was wrong.
Was it that he knew he’d kill him?
He ignored the question. “Why did you kill them. You want me dead anyway.”
“Heheh..hehehhe.. HAHHhahaha..!” The visitor manically cackled with glee, body tilting backwards, legs bent as his head backwards dipped slightly. He looked high. (well, more than he usually did.) The pale visitor suddenly lurched in front of him, face close to his, eyes looking into his tortured soul. The human nearly jumped.
“I.. orders have changed. Her plan is different now, you seeee-“ he drawled out, leaning closer, and despite his body curling down to meet him, he was still so fucking tall. “I will not tell you what She wants.. but just so your pretty little head can know and be satiated..” the homeowner watched the intruders glossy eyes become more distant, as if it was slipping, “I won’t let theseee pesky humans take what’s my kill. You will not die unless.. be it by my hands.. you understand that? My human? Yes yessss..”
The pale visitors voice trailed off, and the homeowner became aware it was not him that was tilting off to the side, but the intruder.
A monster, fallen unconscious on the floor of his very own home.
That monster that killed a platoon of FEMA soldiers without a single effort. His ribcage was laid bare, defenseless with nothing to cover his sins.
It would be so easy to kill him.
His eyes flickered to the unconscious form, watching as the chest of the monster moved up and down— as if he were a human himself. His analyzing gaze travelled from the ribcage to the bloody chest- bloody chest? He frowned as he caught a glimpse at the numerous open wounds cascading his body, bullet wounds not deflected as he thought they would.
The intruders face was blossoming with bruises, ear half attached on his head, no doubt from a hit from a bullet. Dried crimson cakes the side of the pale man’s face, some from his nose but copious amounts to his still bleeding ear. He looked.. pathetic. Almost human.
Almost.
In a shaky breath the human rose, stumbling as his fresh wounds pleaded with him to rest. Unaware of his body, his surroundings, he operated like the living dead, fingers absently finding its place on his rifle while he took slow steps to the once invincible super visitor.
He found himself trembling despite all the heinous murders the pale visitor committed. Cold sweat broke from his neck as he stopped in front of the unconscious monster. He should kill him, kill him then and there. A small laugh escaped his through that the absurdity of this— why the fucking hell was he hesitating? Countless lives, not just FEMAs, but innocents were slain at the mercy of this.. thing. He knows he should send it straight back to the ground it came from.
He should, and he will, he tells himself.
Keeping his hands steady, he raises the rifle, floorboards stained with blood from the bleeding visitor that he knew would never be fully scrubbed out. He runs his finger over the trigger, aiming it at the pale man, no, the beast.. if that makes it any easier to kill him.
He was now the hunter, examining his caught prey. How often it had been the other way around.
And after a heartbeat, he makes contact with the trigger.
But the shot never comes, just as the bullet to his head never came.
He throws the rifle down in frustration, angrily scratching his neck until red lines of pain hiss back at him.
He damn hoped he wouldn’t regret this.
The homeowner wiped the remaining pieces of gore off his house and porch, unsettled by the eerie silence of the night, no one seeking shelter or daring to approach the house; not with the amount of FEMA agents piled up out on the grass near his porch.
He let it a sigh as he got up, thankful he told the little girl to sleep there in his room tonight and not go wander the horror shitshow of a house. She didn’t need to see all the.. scarlet. He grimaced.
Turning to the living room, he’s greeted with a soiled sheet on his couch where the all too big visitor laid, despite being curled up his feet dangled from the arm. The homeowner was thankful the bleeding had remained stagnant, wounds still open but not bleeding with an oddity that could not be described.
What was he going to do when this thing woke up?
He had somewhat reattached the front door, patching up the open hole with some extra wood from the shed, so he didn’t need to worry too much to those who tried to come inside. What he now had to worry was the one inside. Inside his house.
God he hoped he wouldn’t regret this.
He kept his gun strapped to his back, in any case the visitor woke up and tried something funny. At the very least, there was a sense of security that the bastard could be injured. Could be killed.
He took longer to kill the agents too, he noted absentmindedly. Was he getting weak?
He stops midway at a pained groan coming from the pale man, and he found his hands half way patching up the wounds with the first aid kit as if it were muscle memory. What the fuck was he doing.
“Humaannn..?” The pale man slurred, groggy from pain. It didn’t feel right.
He continued his ministrations, thinking the visitor would fall back to sleep. He didn’t.
“Humaaan..” the pale man continued mumbling. “What are you..”
“Be quiet and let me work.” He slapped the restitched ear, causing the visitor to howl in misery. He shut up, though, much to his contentment.
While he’s stitching up the bigger wounds he couldn’t patch, the is visitor squirming all the way through it, though it didn’t seem like pain this time. He opens his dry lips,
“Why didn’t you kill me.” The homeowner deadpanned.
A beat of silence.
“Like I saaaaid, I couldn’t let those annoying little pests kill you, and- ow! Why did you do that.” He pouted at the human as the needle poked at his still healing ear. The homeowner held it up tauntingly.
“Answer me. You had all the time to kill me then and there.”
“Mmmm.. I don’t know about that.. I was falling asleep, you knoooow— ow ow!” He squirmed away from the offending needle, clearly upset. How was it like being the receiving end, huh?
He remembered with pained eyes the time he made a mistake to open the curtain because he heard tapping, only to be met with the visitor waving his arms around stupidly singing that stupid love song he blatantly declared he hated. Something about a bad romance and with grating lyrics that sent shivers up his spine. The wrong kind of shivers.
He got tired of the visitor loudly voicing his complaints and had the bright idea to grab him by the hair, forcing him to look at him.
Now that shut him up.
“I was vulnerable and frozen. You made it in my house. Like you always wanted. But you didn’t. Fucking. Kill me.” He glared at him as if he were nothing. As if he couldn’t kill him even if he was weakened.
The visitor met his gaze.
“Her orders have changed, your kind is fragile and torn. Torn little beings that have fulfilled their run. We no longer need to kill you humans, as your kind will find its days of yore, flesh rotting, but not by us dogs- no no! You will end your kin in the crossfire of fighting yourselves. As it always has been.”
The homeowner was about to poke him again until he continued. “But most visitors will dismember, disarm, dispose, whatever order you want it to be dearest, ha ha ha—! Even if that is not Her order anymore. We can’t help ourselves, yesss? Isn’t that what you think?” The human frowned at him, uncertainty on his gaze.
“Get to the point.”
“Now, would you believe me if I said I didn’t want to kill you? You’re so interesting, unlike the other mangy strays I’ve encountered. How unintelligent they are,” his eyes rolled, with disgust, staying fixated on the ceiling.
“I’m not sure I follow.”
Suddenly, even with his hand gripping his locks, the pale man lunged at his face, stopping only an inch away. The pale man’s grin was back, eyes squinting at him in delight. “I quite.. enjoy our little talksss, you’ve intrigued me! So different. So alive. I want to keep you.” The pale man had a dopey smile, eyes flitting to his mouth to his eyes.
The fuck did he mean by that? In trapped a cage? Was he gonna store him till he’s no longer entertaining then eat him?
He was humming now, some unrecognizable tune, and unknowing to the homeowner the visitor was imagining something totally different, like keeping him on the couch as a snuggle pillow or something. Warm snuggle pillow. While they watch whatever silly romcom or whatever genre he can’t remember.
Unsatisfied with the answer and not wanting to pry, the human backs off, leaving his space. Nooo, come back..
“Now you listen.” The human watched as the dopey grin was replaced by a frown as he stood up for whatever reason. He points at his forehead, accusingly. “If you even dare to kill me, or the neighbors daughter,” his pointer finger drew closer. “This won’t be my hand, but my rifle spilling your brain juice out.” He meant all of it.
“You can do something else to get my brains out.”
“Like what?”
“Noooothing…” the visitor’s smile reappeared.
“I know you’re weakened. Care to share why?”
“Hmm. No. Maybe if you ask nicely.”
The homeowners guffawed at the audacity of this son of a bitch. “I am far past asking nicely, and if you don’t want the needle again..”
“What’s a needle?”
“For fucks sake, don’t act dumb-!”
“Is it those.. spinny edible worm looking things?”
“Those are noodles, do you seriously not—oh forget it— look, THIS.” He held up the now sanitized needle from early, causing the visitor to have a bug eyed stare at it until it registered, and on cue he shrinked in on him self, shrieking while backing up into the couch.
“Nooo, not the pointy twig!” He whined as he shook his head frivolously.
“Needle. N-e-e-d-l-e,” he fumed, dangling the thing near him, not having an ounce of patience to deal with this. “Now tell me. Why you’re weaker.. why you’re.. like this..” Pathetic, he wanted to say as hewaved his hand to motion him, tone exasperated.
The pale man had half a mind to mess with him, but decided against it. When would the human get rid of that pointy thing?!
Begrudgingly he spat out an answer.
“When the leaves turn orange, and the cold creeps in.. my kind grows weaker. Some dig back into the dirt, never to rise until the next time She calls upon us. Some.. become what you are. Akin to a human but never quite.” Disgust was evident on the pale man’s face, as if the very notion of being one made him sick. The home owner eyed him.
“But I can never become one. Not that I want to be, grroooosss…” the visitor snickered, emoting with both his hands as it moved his own head back and forth.
“You’re the only one I tolerate,” his manic smile sent danger signals to the human.
“How flattering.” He gritted sarcastically.
The home owner eyed him for a long moment, searching for something, but never finding it. Then, much to the pale man’s delight, he spoke again with that deliciousss voice of his.
“I will allow you to stay here temporarily. Do not misinterpret this. I’m only patching you up until you heal, get out, and leave me the hell alone. I do not trust you,” he continued eyeing the creature wearily.
“Nor will I do anything else to extend my help. I don’t care if you fall dead tomorrow, in fact, that does me a favor.” The pale man frowned at that, as if he was hurt.
“I am doing this,” he takes a step closer, hovering over the visitor, the only time him being remotely taller is when the pale man’s laying down, how silly. “Because in whatever carnage you were brewing when I was in the crossfire that day, you happened to save my life, and the child. No, you do not get to speak or see her. If she’s missing tomorrow I’m going to assume you ate her and fucking kill you in all the twisted ways you did to your victims.” His voice dropped, an unspoken boundary dredged between them. He was serious, that he could tell.
“I don’t like your toooone,” he sing-songed back at the home owner. He almost jumped when the human fixed the back of his shirt, almost certain he’d pull the gun at him.
Oh he did not like this switch of power one bit.
But the humans reactions made it.. almost worth it.
Intriguing.
He didn’t mind it as much as he thought he’d would’ve.
The low voice of the human snapped him out of his daze. “No going in my bedroom. And when you’re all healed, you leave. Do we have an agreement?”
“Of course, your kindness will forever touch my heart and then some.” He bowed (as much as he could lying down) accompanied with his signature grin.
“I just said..” he heaved a deep sigh.
God he hated his guts. Whatever remained of them, anyway..