NIGHTWORLD

14: Killing Floor

“Jaro… are you alright?" Kristian asked, tugging his jacket on, shirtless beneath. The marten was shaken up and dazed, but in his eyes was a steely resolve. He approached slowly, looking at Jaro like he was a rabid dog that might bite. “You look… off." 

“How are we supposed to feel, after something like that?" Kadir grunted, pulling a decorative spear off the wall and hefting it in his paws. “Put what he did to us out of your mind. Focus on the task in front of us. We're gonna have to fight our way out." 

Jaro blinked, flexing his fingers, feeling the electricity shooting through his nerves. “I'm good." He was still breathing.

The vrykolakas was alive in him now, he could feel it digging its tendrils into his heart, flooding his system with the enzymes and magic that created Nightworld. 

This has to be a problem for later. 

“Did you get through to Noah's team?" Jaro asked, and Kristian nodded. 

“Lots of questions, but I said we were in deep, and he should detonate the charges as soon as he can. Countdown is twenty minutes – I… argued for sooner, but Frankie was determined we had a chance." 

“Alright, we're going back for the rest of Team One," Jaro said, rolling his shoulders. Like Kadir, he wore nothing but his fatigue pants, but he hardly felt he needed it. His body felt invincible. He wanted to run, to leap. He'd never felt so fucking alive.

“Jaro…" Kadir said. “Even if we knew how to get back there…" 

“Kadir," Jaro growled, stepping closer. “Isla sent us here for them. We go back." He pointed to the shifting rubble by the fireplace, where Romulus was buried. “I wouldn't leave you to him, we won't leave them to Fyodor."

The caracal seemed on the verge of resisting, but finally he nodded, raising his spear. 

The rubble by the fireplace quaked again, loose debris rolling free of the pile as Romulus began to start tearing himself free.

“Bastard just won't stay down," Jaro said, making for the door. Fyodor had locked them in when they first came, but with his newfound strength Jaro simply tore the lock free, discarding it as the door swung limply.

The trio took off fast. Jaro had done his best to count the corners as Romulus led them, but the mind control had made concentrating hard, and so they guessed their way forward. The main goal was to head vaguely east, away from Romulus and Belisarius, and back towards the Pit.

Towards Fyodor's killing floor. 

“Need to make another foreman squeal," Jaro said, turning down a long corridor. He paused in the open space, ears pricking up. Ahead of him he could smell blood, hear the sounds of flesh being sliced. The Carvery.

To their left was silence, and towards the right came a deep, resonant crunching. “This way." 

He led them through, keeping low to try and avoid any patrolling thralls, though the halls remained mostly clear. It made sense; with so many obedient servants, what need for guards would Belisarius have?

“What's that noise?" Kristian asked, as they stacked up against the doorway outside. 

“I think it's a bone room," Jaro explained. “Steambreather's end of the line." He glanced down at them – he and Kadir in nothing but pants, Kristian the same but with an open jacket pulled over a shirtless torso. Bare feet, all unarmed except for Kadir's spear. “I reckon we're past blending in." 

“This way's easier anyway," Kadir hissed, pushing past. 

The door swung open as they entered the bone room, the crunching sound multiplying ten times over itself as the space opened up. Here was a multi-layered room filled with conveyors and trolley lines. Bodies scraped clean of nearly all their flesh came through from the left – either as hanging cadavers barely held together with the last dredges of sinew and ligaments, or as a jumbled skeleton pile in a little cart.

“OUR LORD IS FURIOUS! REDOUBLE THIS SPEED!" A reptilian foreman in the centre of the room was crying from his platform, gesturing with a hunting crop, several thralls flanking him. The workers flinched at his words, the sides of their eyes carefully watching each one of the thralls. They weren't used to seeing the monsters on their factory floor. 

Belisarius is trying to tighten his noose. Maybe they'd made more of an impact than the vampire would let on. After all, news of rebellious mortals could travel fast.

“YOU WILL SUBMIT! YOU WILL OBEY! OR YOU WILL–" His words were cut off as he spied the trio, standing by the door in confusion. The foreman's eyes widened gluttonously. No doubt he was imagining all the riches the vampire lords would bestow upon him for catching their beloved interlopers. 

“Get behind us," Jaro said to Kristian, who stood shivering and unarmed. 

“SEIZE THEM!" The foreman screeched, pointing down at the three. The thralls all snarled together, claws flashing as they leapt down in a flock. 

They hit the ground and Kadir had already speared one through the skull, ripping his blade free and spinning the weapon, slicing it across the next attacker. 

Jaro shoved Kristian back, neither had the luxury of being armed, but at least he had Romulus's blood pulsing through him. A dark heartbeat, power incarnate. No wonder it had seduced Fyodor so easily. 

Ignoring the stinging pains in his chest, Jaro threw himself at the thralls. They seemed to move slower now, more sluggish than he remembered. Whereas before they'd been a whirlwind of razor-tipped viciousness, now they were more like tripping children – uncoordinated, even foolish. Jaro dashed in, slamming his open paw into the side of the first thrall's head, some rotting lizardman. With a growl of effort, he carried the momentum forward, shoving the monster over as he smashed its head into the ground, where it popped like a light globe, stinking chunks of ichor and flesh blowing out across the concrete floor. 

The next thrall dove for him, but Jaro was ready – he stood quickly, meeting its chest with his knee, cracking ribs as his claws seized it by the neck, ripping it apart from shoulder-to-sternum and cracking it like a wishbone. 

To his right, Kadir had skewered two thralls through the gut and was yanking his blade free, smashing the butt of it across their jaws with a painful crack. 

“STOP IT! STOP THEM!" The foreman cried, gesturing for the workers to rush forward and join the fight. Two stepped up, but they got one look at Jaro's snarling teeth, and quickly thought better of it. 

He grabbed the next thrall by the shoulders, driving his head into its nose as hard as he could. The creature reeled back with an agonised wail, and Jaro kicked it hard, sending it flying back where it impaled itself on a jutting out piece of iron. 

The Black Tongue foreman drew a short curved blade, shaking slightly as he came for him. He slashed for Jaro but the attack was easily avoided, his paw wrapping around the foreman's own, twisting painfully. The Black Tongue cried out, buckling under the pressure as he dropped the sword. The last thrall saw it and tried to leap for them, but it only made it halfway before Kadir's spear was buried through its neck. 

Jaro slashed his claws across the foreman, shredding his shirt and rending the flesh beneath. Blood began to bubble up in tiny needlepoints, and Jaro shoved in, one paw pulling tight on the foreman's head fur, the other stretching his arm right out. He opened his mouth, the energy inside compelling him forward, teeth digging deep as he bit into the Black Tongue's neck. 

The blood that came was hot and sour, like wine that was going off – nothing like the thick intoxication of the Teardrinker's own. Still Jaro's tongue lapped it up, and after a second of that he blinked, realising what he was doing. 

Kadir and Kristian were behind him, each one with a hold of his arms, shouting as they tried to pull him off the dying foreman. 

“Get a fucking grip!" Kadir snarled, as Jaro released the man, tumbling backwards and falling on his ass. The caracal whirled, jamming the tip of the spear right up against Jaro's chest. 

Jaro froze, an open paw raised, half lying on the floor. 

“Are you still you?" Kadir asked, spear shaking. “I lost two friends today, don't make it a third." 

“Kadir, I–"

Kadir grunted. “I've done it before. I can do it again." 

Jaro frowned, there was something in Kadir's eyes, something about the way his powerful muscles were locked completely taut. Fear. He was terrified. Could Romulus have been telling the truth? 

Do you really think of me as yours?

“Kadir…" Jaro moved slowly, his paw gently taking hold of the spear's blade and guiding it away from his ribs. “...I am in control. Let me up." 

The caracal hesitated, before finally relenting, lifting his spear and offering a paw. Jaro took it and stood, approaching the foreman. 

Bleeding out, battered and broken, the man was trying to crawl away, a trail of dark gore smeared across the floor behind him. He wasn't getting very far.

Kadir followed close, putting his boot on the back of the foreman's trembling body. 

“Please… please… I'm dying… don't let me die down here…" 

“Make him talk."

Kristian approached, out of breath despite staying clear of the fighting. He dropped to a squat before the foreman, staring into his eyes. Jaro had never seen the marten's face go so cold before. 

I hope we can come back from this, he thought, looking down at his own paw. But how could things ever be the same, after what Romulus made them do? Kadir forced to fuck and enjoy Kristian right in front of him… the way Kristian had been frenzied, drooling and begging to take the vampire's dick in his mouth… Jaro, admitting how much he wanted it all to keep going…. they'd all been completely exposed. Stripped down in every conceivable way. Will we even be able to stomach looking at one another, when this is done?

“The Pit," the marten said slowly. “How do we get there from here? Tell us, or we can drag you along with us." 

The foreman breathed in with great shuddering gasps. “What do you think our workers will do now?" 

“What?" Jaro asked, circling. “They're gone, they left you to die here." 

“They'll go straight to the next overseer. The Iconoclast will be here in minutes. He'll kill you all, and elevate me."

Kristian translated for Kadir, and the caracal kicked the foreman, flipping him on his back. “Tell him we'll kill him if he doesn't help." 

“I suspect he understands that much," Kristian said, but he translated anyway.

The foreman coughed up blood. “I'm dead already." He smiled through chipped teeth. “But so are you." 

“Wait–" Jaro started, but the foreman drew a knife, rolling forward and swiping towards Kristian's face. The marten cried out as the blade caught his lip, drawing a thin line of red up across his whiskers. 

The Black Tongue made to scurry forward after him, but Kadir was quicker, swiftly ramming his spear down through the foreman's back. The reptile seized, arms shaking before he collapsed against the ground in a heap. 

“Fuck's sake," Jaro growled, turning away. “We needed that alive." 

“Maybe if you hadn't started ripping him to pieces, we could have made him talk," Kadir snapped back, his fist tightening around the grip of his spear. 

“I'm not some rabid dog that needs putting down, Kadir." 

“Then stop acting like one."

“Stop this!" Kristian cried, shoving between them, blood smeared over his face. “Now is not the time for this, you both know it. We are running out of time, and so are our allies. Nothing will be accomplished by you two killing each other."

Kadir grunted, turning away.

“Idiots," Kristian muttered.

Behind them Jaro heard something skitter across the ground, turning in place as he braced for another attack. Instead what he saw was nothing – just some more factory scaffolding, a single loose rib laying by a steel wall. He looked back at Kristian, holding a finger to his lips, before creeping up on the hiding place.

He found a ferret couple there, cowering in place. The woman was much older than the young man, and she glared up at Jaro with determination. 

“Leave us be, we never saw you, interlopers!" She spat, pushing the younger man behind her.

“Please," Jaro raised his paws. “I mean you no harm."

“Then leave us."

He gestured back at Kadir and Kristian, who were surrounded by desiccated thralls and the dead foreman. “My friends and I are looking for the Pit, we came to save the prisoners trapped there. Do you know where it is?" 

“We do not know anything. Go." She tried to shoo him off, but Jaro stayed still.

“Listen," he whispered, leaning close. “If three half-naked strangers appeared and killed my boss, I would be scared too. But this place? This whole factory is about to be destroyed. The dam will break, everything will be flooded. You both need to leave right now, and tell everyone you can to get out and as high as possible." He opened his paws to show they were empty, though the blood and ichor made it a hard sell. “After tonight, the Lambcatcher won't be able to hurt you anymore."

The woman's face contorted in shock, quickly turning to rage. “He will not protect us either, you damned fool. You think me a child? I brought my son to Steambreather because I swore to my husband that our children would never become a vampire's meal. This was the only way to keep what family I have left alive, and you would destroy it, then act as if I should thank you?" She pulled away. “And you would ask my help of it? Do you know what they will do to us, if they are finding we even speak to you?" 

“This is not a choice you should have to make," Kristian said, approaching slowly. He waved Jaro back, creating some space. “To be a slave or to be food. To the north-west you can find the refugees of Cujac travelling. They live under no Lord's yolk, and they have protections to keep themselves safe."

Jaro sniffed. Protections that did precious little against Ashani. 

“Damn you all," the woman said, shaking her head. “You say to be a slave is not a choice, well what choice do you offer now? Run or die."

“Well, you see, we do not mean to say that–" Kristian started, stumbling over his words. 

Growling, Jaro pushed past, fixing the woman with his stare. He saw the Prey Dynamic kick in, the innate ancient fear of what he was turning into seizing her senses, dulling her reactions. Caught, like a deer in headlights. 

In eternity's grasp. 

“Tell us where they are. Then you can run and live, or stay and die. Choose as you will." 

“Through that door," the young man said, pointing over his mother's shoulder. “I have been hearing them cry out before. Down the very end. Now please, just let us go." 

“Thank you for the help," Kristian said, giving a small bow. “Now go, and go quickly." 

The two of them nodded quickly, gathering their things and making for the exit. 

“What was that?" Kristian asked. “They were afraid." 

“We don't have time to be nice," Jaro replied, taking a knife from one of the many tool benches that populated the space, weighing it in his paw. 

“He's right, Kristian," Kadir said. “This place will be underwater in half an hour. There isn't time to waste." 

The group moved down the way the young man had indicated. All around they heard the clanging of the factory beating down on them, the knowledge that they were mere minutes from Noah's team blowing up the dam weighing heavy on their minds. Still, Jaro was determined not to rush, they could not afford to be surprised like last time.

“Are you doing alright?" Kristian whispered to Jaro, as they crept towards the Pit. 

“As well as I can," he replied. “I doubt any of us feel alright, after what happened. I'm sorry." 

“Nobody wanted that, Jaro, at least… not like that. It doesn't matter what he made us say or think. We weren't in control." 

“Yeah, course." 

But he did want it. 

As they entered the Pit once again, Jaro's heart sunk. 

Suspended between the two stone pillars in the centre of the arena was Isla's corpse. Her arms were strung up, the front of her body shredded and mangled. Jaro's jaw tightened. Isla had been a hard woman, but nobody deserved this. 

At least she got answers for her questions, even if they weren't the ones she wanted. 

The trio's stunned silence was broken by a pained gurgle, and as they looked past Isla's body, they saw what remained of Team One. 

Fyodor stood in their midst, surrounded by corpses. He'd lifted a soldier clean off the ground, one red claw shoved right through the man's gut. The smell of blood thrashed against Jaro, making his teeth ache, causing all the moisture in his throat to dry up like a desert.

“You… why…?" The soldier mumbled, through the blood bubbling out of his mouth. 

“Why not?" Fyodor hissed back, ripping his arm from the soldier's stomach and dropping the corpse. He rolled his shoulders, his three armed thralls shifting their weight in time with him, the shadowy tendrils linking their reanimated cadavers still linked up neatly with Fyodor's back. “Even I didn't think you'd come back," the Doberman said eventually, looking over his shoulder at them. 

“Fyodor, surely the man we once knew is in there somewhere," Kristian pleaded, inching backwards. “You helped me gather samples for my serum. Does our work mean nothing to you?"

“What do you think?" Fyodor asked, slowly walking towards them, circling the display he'd made out of his wife. He gestured to Isla. “Would the old Fyodor do this? So little time spent in this shape, and yet already I am surprised by the sympathies that plague you mortals." He winked at Jaro. “Mhm. You can feel it, can't you? Whatever the Lord of Sanction did with you up there… one thing is for sure, your dark passenger is not sleeping anymore."

“Fuck off," Kadir snapped, tightening the grip on his spear.  

“Already it chases you, probably more fiercely than did mine, no? Yours has been held back, restrained. It must be so eager now." 

“I don't care what you have to say," Jaro replied through gritted teeth. He was watching the thralls – they kept close to Fyodor. While they may be weak like the others, they were also armed with guns. One wrong move, and this fight was over before it started. “I'm not like you, Fyodor." 

“Ah, but you will be," the Doberman chuckled, fangs gleaming. “The greatest lesson Nightworld has taught me? That our kind are inevitable. Immortal. Eternal. Eventually, all opposition will melt before us. Glaciers, mountains, mortal resistance… time defeats all, but we are not beholden to it. If Dracula wanted you dead, he could simply wait."

“Man, you fuckin' leeches love to talk," Kadir said. “You gonna kill us or what?"

Fyodor shrugged. “This form puts time into a different perspective." The thralls kept pace with him, all eyes watching Kadir and his spear. In his free paw, Jaro weighed his knife, switching it around so he held it blade-first. Hadn't tried this since he was in Africa, when Boz showed him how to do it.

“If you're gonna kill us, then just kill us already," Kristian said.

The Iconoclast grinned. “What? And miss this opportunity to play with my food?"

Jaro chuffed. “Nobody's playing." 

He twitched forward suddenly, hurling the knife forward with all his newfound strength. It spun, and while Fyodor easily stepped out of the way, the thralls were too slow, and the knife slammed into the farthest point-first, instantly dropping it. 

Kadir dove for the left and Jaro for the right. He crashed into the zombified soldier, leaning into his urges, letting instinct carry him forward like a red wave of anger. The thrall screeched, letting off a short burst of gunfire, but Jaro was too close and all it shot was the sand. He swiped at the creature's face, crumpling its cheeks even as he yanked the gun from its limp paws. It could barely use the weapon; this whole entourage was just more vampire theatrics. 

“NO!" Fyodor snarled, crashing into Jaro's side with the full weight of a truck. The two of them slammed into the cell bars, the metal digging into Jaro's back, pinning his tail beneath him. “You are slaves!" 

Jaro got his fingers around the trigger, squeezing as the rifle discharged, firing a short burst into both of Fyodor's knees. Blood sprayed out behind, staining the sand, and although Fyodor buckled slightly he was undeterred. Jaro ducked his next few swipes, the vampire's claws sending sparks flying as they caught the cell bars. 

Behind, Kadir had slain the last thrall, and let out a cry as he joined Jaro and charged into the Doberman, driving the spear into his back and clean through the vampire's chest. Fyodor winced, baring his teeth as he reached up and seized the spearhead, snapping it free as he whirled on the caracal. 

“There's no silver in our weapons," the vampire said. “Try harder, worm." 

Jaro leapt on him from behind, wrapping an arm around his throat. 

“Enough!" Fyodor cried, reaching up and digging his claws deep into the flesh of Jaro's shoulder. Pain screamed through him, lancing across his back as the vampire tore him forward, hurling him over his front and throwing him across the room. 

Jaro crashed into the pillar hard enough his teeth rattled in his jaw. Fyodor skipped forward, shoving Kadir aside and slamming into Jaro before he'd even hit the ground. The vampire latched his paw onto Jaro's face, smashing his head into the pillar. 

“Things are simple here," Fyodor hissed at him, ramming his head into the stone once again, grinding deep. Jaro felt pain explode at the back of his skull, a deep cracking sound splitting from between his ears. Light bloomed at the base of his blurring vision, his ears suddenly wet with blood. “It's predator, and prey. Rulers and servants."

Jaro's body wasn't responding, his fingers were numb and his tongue failed to obey. “No… n-no… more… sun?" 

Fyodor pinched his jaw, the tips of his claws like pins and needles as he bared his fangs, saliva dripping from his maw. “I don't need the sun. I don't want your world."

Kristian appeared by his side, armed with one of the thrall's rifles. “We don't want you either." He pressed the barrel to Fyodor's skull and pulled the trigger.

The sound was deafening, compounding the shattering pain already filling Jaro's head. When he blinked back to reality, he was on his paws on knees, the sand beneath him spinning. 

Fyodor was off to one side, reeling in place, holding a paw to his broken head. A vampire couldn't be killed with a gun, but they weren't immune to all damage.

“Jaro? Can you hear me?" Kristian asked, kneeling down. His voice was muffled and far away.

Jaro looked up, struggling to keep his eyes open. “I… my…" He put a paw to his head, darkness creeping in at the edge of his vision. It felt as if chunks of bone in his head were just floating there, unattached to anything.

Beyond them, Fyodor was fixing himself in place. He looked down to the pile of corpses surrounding him – the mauled remains of Team One. With a shudder, tendrils began descending from the base of his neck, reaching down like long slender fingers, each one touching a corpse in the sand. With a vile rhythm, the bodies came alive, clambering to their feet like marionettes. Blood dripped from their open wounds, organs hanging free of wounds Fyodor had ripped out of them. Their eyes stared blankly, clouded over, just meat electrified into a hideous new kind of subjugation.

“Jaro, you have to get up," Kristian insisted, trying to tug him up off the sand.

“N-no," Jaro mumbled. He couldn't get his body to respond properly. His stomach was turning, acrid bile burning in his throat, nauseating waves rippling beneath his hide. He wanted to curl up and die. “I can't." 

Beside them, Kadir braced himself, raising his rifle and firing into the group of enthralled soldiers. Men he'd worked with, old friends. 

“Please, Jaro, I can't do this, please help," the marten insisted, shoving him. Jaro only groaned, trying to crawl forwards and finding each of his limbs moving in the wrong directions. “He's gonna kill us, Fyodor will…" Kristian paused, staring down at him. 

“What?" Jaro asked, through the storm. 

“You could bite me, right?" 

Even the thought of it made Jaro's mouth dry up. His teeth felt too big for his mouth, his muscles tensed. Inside his chest he could feel the parasite wriggle in excitement, the thrill of fresh blood sending it into a frenzy. 

“No. N-no, Kristian." 

Next to them, Fyodor howled as his thralls ran at Kadir, threatening to overwhelm the caracal. He emptied his clip, tossing the gun and picking up another, downing two more of the monsters, almost within biting distance. 

“Come now, it will heal you, yes?" Kristian breathed deep, leaning down and showing Jaro his neck. “You need it. I need you." 

Jaro looked at Kadir, firing bullet after bullet as he tried to retreat, quickly running out of space. Fyodor was walking slowly towards him, the tendrils stretching out around him, leading his puppets onward. 

I won't become a monster.

There was no other choice.

With a pained cry, Jaro threw himself at Kristian. He tackled the marten, knocking him over and pinning him to the ground, allowing his dark passenger to show him what to do. His teeth – not yet fangs but still the sharp tools of a wolf – sunk into Kristian's neck, splitting the flesh. Blood squirted up into his mouth, and although the thought of it disgusted Jaro's mind, his body drank deep, relishing the sickly adrenaline that swallowed him up, flooding every inch of his body. 

The more he drank, the more mended he felt. His eyes became focused, his muscles grew strong. Parts of him knit back together, itching fiercely as his body unnaturally mended itself. The screaming ache in the back of his head was muffled to a faint whisper. 

“Jaro…" Kristian muttered, suddenly pale, weak arms trying to push him free. 

Realising how much he'd taken, Jaro forced himself to release, pulling back with a mixture of horror and disappointment. It was wrong, worse – it was evil. 

But it was also necessary. 

“Fyodor!" He snarled, as the Doberman turned. Jaro dashed in, instantly crushing the first two thralls. Another stumbled at him but he battered it aside, crushing its head beneath his foot without even looking.

The vampire bared his fangs, and Jaro slammed into him, the two of them trading blows as they swiped and clawed at one another. They were a blur, Fyodor ducking Jaro's swipes before following up with his own, slashing across the wolf's stomach and drawing blood. The pain was invisible, Jaro felt nothing, just a white hot intensity that drove him onwards. Fyodor was more experienced with his vampire reactions, his speed and strength, but Jaro was fresh – newly satiated, furious over everything that had happened to them. 

He knocked the Doberman's blow aside, slamming his head forward and crushing the vampire's nose. Fyodor snarled, what echoes of pain he was capable of experiencing finally catching up with him. He made for Jaro's throat, going wide, as the wolf sent his boot crashing down on the vampire's knee, shattering it as the joint blew out sideways. 

“You don't deserve this!" Fyodor whined, trying to come forward, gnashing his teeth as Jaro danced back. “This is mine! I am the Iconoclast! I will break you a thousand times over!"

“Heard it all before," Jaro said, panting as he fought. He was strong but fading fast, the pain in his skull threatening to return.

Kadir put down the last of the thralls, turning his gun on Fyodor. He fired the rifle, the bullet blowing through the creature's head and popping one of his eyes. Despite all that power, the vampire screamed, socket dripping gore. He was hurting. 

Jaro punched at him, two blows connecting with his ribs. “All your kind does – is make – empty – threats." He hit and hit and hit again. “That's what's – different – about you and I, Fyodor." Jaro let the momentum carry him forward, crashing into the vampire as he refused to relent. They spun, twisting about before Jaro rammed him up against the stone pillar. He punched the Doberman clean in the face, smashing as hard as he could, each hit shaking the whole pillar as he annihilated the monster. Again and again, letting his fury keep driving him further. He felt unstoppable, he felt like death come to life.

Finally Jaro stopped, pulling himself back, claws splayed, teeth bared. Fyodor blinked slowly, staring at him breathlessly, beaten and crushed. Even his eternal body had its limitations. 

Jaro's heart leapt as in the far off distance, he heard the muted thud of a massive explosion – Noah had blown the dam. 

“That is what's different. I mean what I say." 

With a growl of effort, Jaro punched into Fyodor's chest, the skin on his paw shredding as the broken ribs splintered around him. Fyodor screamed, genuine panic rising in him as Jaro pushed about, breezing past his vestigial lungs as his claws dug deep into the squirming vrykolakas. 

“NO!" Fyodor wailed, as Jaro squeezed the parasite, tearing it free with a vicious howl. It came free with a tug, sinews and organlike pathways snapping as it split free, wriggling like a giant leech riddled in gaping mouths. It squirmed, thrashing in Jaro's paw as Fyodor crumpled before him. The Doberman's pleas descended into gibberish, begging and clamouring for relief. Jaro crushed the parasite, feeling it pop in his fingers. 

Fyodor fell to his knees, one paw outstretched towards Jaro, the colour fading from him even as steam began to stream out from the hole in his chest. He tried to speak but his tongue had melted, his body slowly turning to ash as he completely disintegrated into the sand.

Panting, Jaro dropped the dead parasite, stumbling back, body spent. 

Kadir stepped up, spitting on the ground where Fyodor had once knelt. 

“Good?" He asked, to which Jaro nodded slowly, blinking himself out of his daze. Fyodor was dead. Ashes at their feet. 

It felt impossible to believe. 

“Kristian!" He realised, turning and rushing to the fallen marten's side. 

“Y-you… got him?" He asked, as Jaro helped him up off the ground. He tore a sleeve of Kristian's jacket off, pressing it to the bleeding wound in his neck. 

“Yeah, yeah I did," Jaro replied. “Don't talk, you lost too much blood."

“What did you do?" Kadir growled, coming closer. 

“It was the only way, alright? Trust me," Jaro said, checking Kristian. “Can you stand?"

“I've got him, take this," Kadir said quickly, pushing his gun into Jaro's paws before slipping an arm beneath Kristian's. The two of them were battered, but Jaro had taken the harder hits by far. His shoulders were still scarred from Romulus's attack, and although the blood helped it dull, there was still a faint ache in the back of his skull. Beyond that, his body was drenched in red and black gore, parts of him torn open, bruised, and injured. Thankfully, his passenger was keeping it all back for now, though he didn't know how much longer it could keep up.

He leaned in, grabbing Kristian's wrist and squeezing. “Thank you." 

“Any… time…" The marten replied woozily. 

“Noah did his part," Kadir said.

“The quarry is large," Kristian said, fighting to catch his breath. “It will take time to flood."

“Fuck this place anyway," Kadir grunted, nudging his foot towards the pile of ashes, all that was left of Fyodor. “The cunt's dead. Time to go."

Jaro nodded, raising his gun and swinging towards the exit. Already through the factory, he heard the clanging of bells, the cries going up of panicking workers. He thought about the woman who condemned them for destroying Steambreather. They were doing the right thing… so why didn't it feel that way? Was Isla right, in that the mortals of Nightworld simply didn't know how to fight back anymore? Or was the program barging into something they didn't understand, and demanding it be fixed as they see fit? That kind of thinking was exactly the reason Boz hated being in Africa – foreign solutions to localised problems.

Vampires might be a black and white evil, but that doesn't mean the rest of the world works that way. 

He pushed the worries from his mind, heading out with Kadir and Kristian in tow. As they moved, it became more and more apparent that things were quickly turning bad for worse. Workers in the distant halls ran for their lives, shouting directions up and out of the massive factory. Here and there he saw the Black Tongued foremen, trying hopelessly to corral their slaves but finding little success. Bells continued to ring without end, and although Jaro saw no hint of any flooding, he could just feel it all coming in, as if the walls were shaking, ready to break.

He gunned down a small group of thralls as they ran, following the factory mortals out as they made for the bridges leading up from Steambreather's quarry. Up and up, always further up if they could help it. 

Eventually one of the pyramid tunnels opened up into a large, cavernous hall. The workers led them out onto a wide metal gangway, looking down on the greater area. The room below was swarming with workers, it was chaos. Jaro looked down at them all from their position, keenly aware of the explosive domino effect they'd set off. 

“Look," Kadir growled, pointing.

At the end of the hall was Belisarius standing on a squat dais, surrounded by a small contingent of his Black Tongues. The foremen were screaming orders, waving weapons and barking down at the mortals around them, trying to demand they stop running. No one was listening, and even as Jaro watched the Black Tongues hefted their clubs and began assaulting whoever they could reach. 

The crowd turned on them, dragging the foremen in as the beaten workers kicked and thrashed at them. Years of servitude and anger unleashed in a single instant, and all the while Belisarius paid them no heed.

From his position atop the dais, the Lambcatcher stood still. Jaro felt his stomach shrivel as – from the complete opposite side of the room – the vampire lord fixed his gaze on them. He felt the Prey Dynamic kick in even at that distance, trying to ensnare his senses, and quickly shook it off himself.

“He saw us," Kadir said. 

“Time to go, that way, fuckin' move!" Jaro cried, shoving them onward. 

Below them, Belisarius descended from his platform. As he strode forward, the fleeing workers parted around him like the red sea. The fearsome mandril ignored the overwhelmed Black Tongues, stepping over them as he approached Jaro and the others. 

The vampire broke into a run, and Jaro shoved his allies further on. The three began to pick up pace, making for a doorway at the end of their little walkway, keeping close to the other workers. 

Belisarius sliced through the crowd like a shark, picking up speed as his face contorted into a visage of rage, sliding to a halt beneath them and effortlessly leaping up to the gangway.

“WHAT RUIN THOU HAST WROUGHT!" The vampire screeched after them, his booming voice chasing down the tunnel. “FRUITLESS ENDEAVOURS!"

“Go, faster, go!" Kadir insisted, practically dragging Kristian along behind him. 

Workers were clamouring all around them now, everyone desperate to get out as the lowest levels of the factory began to flood, the presence of their dark lord only spurring them faster.

With a heave of effort, Jaro and the other mortals shoved open the great doors leading to one of the many bridges out. They spilled out into crisp night air, eyes quickly adjusting after dimness inside the abattoir. 

Jaro looked down from their place on the bridge. Far below, the ground was already swallowed up, violent waves of rushing water smothering the many pits and tunnels, obliterating anything and anyone unlucky enough to be caught in the torrent. It was rising slowly, but that didn't mean it wasn't violent when it hit. 

“He's close, run!" Kristian said, and run they did. 

Everyone moved as one, lost in the crowd as they swarmed up out of the gigantic quarry, eager to put the pyramids to their back. 

“INTERLOPERS!" Belisarius screamed, bursting out into the darkness. Jaro heard screams as the vampire lord shredded his way through the mass of people, ripping innocent workers apart, tossing their bodies into the waters below, practically walking through them as he went. 

“Nearly there, nearly there," Jaro breathed, panting heavily as they both helped to carry Kristian, the marten beyond exhausted. 

The crowd collectively cried out in fear as the waters below toppled a small rudimentary crane, dust and debris flying out in every direction. Jaro ignored it, focusing instead on getting to the plains ahead. He'd no idea what would happen then, but all he knew was they were sitting ducks on that bridge. 

The masses ruptured onto dry land like a burst pipe, fleeing bodies of all ages spilling out in every direction. Most tried to make for Barda, but many were simply too terrified to think, bolting towards the nearest bunch of trees they could find. 

“I can't keep going," Kristian panted, his words coming in great rasps. Kadir and Jaro dropped him, putting themselves between him and the vampire. 

“Get his radio," Jaro ordered, pointing back down. “Tell Noah where we are, tell him we need support."

Jaro raised his rifle, emptying the last quarter of the clip into Belisarius. The mandril ignored the wounds, blood spraying out behind him in a fine mist. Fyodor would have at least stumbled slightly, but they had no effect on the ancient creature. It was obvious even by the vampire's presence – Fyodor was nothing compared to Belisarius. 

“Romulus always was worthless," he snarled. “Anointed by necessity, built up to fill an empty chair, instead of ascending for merit as the rest of us did. Our Dread Emperor makes few mistakes, but allowing that mongrel into thine house was certainly one." 

“I killed Fyodor," Jaro said, baring his teeth, quickly glancing to the east. “I'll kill you too." 

Belisarius didn't slow his pace, a wry smile pulling at his lips. “Would thou think himself capable of crushing the world because he broke a pebble?" 

“We have destroyed your factory," Jaro cried, waving back as the wind whipped at him. His only chance was to follow what Fyodor had said – try to prey on the vampire's elongated sense of time and patience. They could sprint faster than any creature alive, but between those moments they were slow and sedentary. Overconfident. “Even if you kill us, we won."

“Oh, child, I will build another," Belisarius replied, as the sounds of rushing waves and crumbling buildings echoed up behind him. He didn't even seem fazed. “I have all the time one could ever need. We have a world of cattle. Destroy the next, say I! I shall build a third, a fourth, a hundred if that is what is required of me!"

Jaro dropped his gun, running forwards and slashing at the vampire's face. Belisarius caught the blow with ease, crushing Jaro's arm with a sudden, sickening crunch. It was agony as his bones were vaporised, and Jaro instantly fell to his knees, howling in pain. 

The vampire raised his other claw, crushing his fingers into a fist in the air. As he did, Jaro's stomach turned, his vrykolakas parasite thrashing within him. 

“Even if thou does not respect our ranks, your passenger shall." 

Jaro screamed so hard he ran out of air, silently rasping as he doubled over, one arm still clutched in Belisarius's claw, vomiting onto the soil beneath him. 

“What foolishness, to think thee would think himself capable of defeating me." He leaned closer. “Did I not promise thee that thou would suffer?"

“But I…" Jaro gasped, heart racing, his entire body on fire. “I don't… n-need to beat you. Just…" He groaned, parasite tensing around his heart. “To slow you." 

A sudden piercing shot rang out, the slug blowing through Beliarius's jaw. He released Jaro's arm, stumbling to the side as he tried to steady himself. Jaro crawled away, looking back over his shoulder. 

Devna's silver-tipped sniper shot had severed the vampire's jaw clean from his head, and as Jaro stared, the thin sinews holding it in place stretched and finally snapped. The vampire was still standing, and he let out a wordless wail of rage at them, top fangs and a loose tongue hanging free, blood spurting down to coat the front of his armour.

He made to step forward, but as he did, he realised what Jaro had been waiting for. 

To the east, the sun was rising. Belisarius's eyes went wide as he let out another cry, this one genuinely fearful. Jaro wondered how long it had been since the creature had truly felt afraid.

The light hit quickly, peeking up across the cloudless Nightworld sky, melting the shadows as warm radiance raced toward them.

The Lambcatcher turned, looking towards the bridge that led back into his flooding factory. He began to run, hastily blowing through the outflow of workers, but the sun was faster. 

The vampire made it as far as five steps onto the metal bridge by the time the light caught him, sparks and flames bursting out across his body, smoke and ash rising as he fried in the morning glow.

Holding his obliterated arm close to his body, Jaro allowed Kadir to help him off his feet. Together they stood, the caracal holding him firm, watching as the Vampire Lord burned before them. 

“Isla would be pleased," Kadir said, once Belisarius was nothing more than a pile of smouldering ash. “A dead vampire lord, a ruined abattoir."

“They're gonna come at us even harder now, you know," Jaro replied. Already the Lambcatcher was gone, trampled into nothing by his own slaves. “Dracula won't let this stand. They were eager before but they'll be furious now."

Kadir shrugged. “Tell you what, I never thought we'd come back from this place. But we saved Fyodor. I don't care what that thing driving him said, he wouldn't have wanted to end up that way."

“Neither would I," Jaro said softly, licking at his teeth. “Look. About what happened with Romulus… about what he made us do–" 

“We'll talk later," Kadir said firmly, holding Jaro a little tighter. “The three of us. For now, just stand here and enjoy the fucking victory."