Chapter 33. Me thinks ye won.

  He looked down. Bloodsucking coward had a mouth full. Vibrating creature didn’t even flinch while he approached.

  Big Sid was radiating a fury more heated than the forge he slaved.

  Those vampire eyes black, like glass. The creature was feeding. Sid examined it. Sprawled out over the shadow called Fenrir. Keeping the animal pinned.

  You know what, I should probably clarify that pups size a bit. Yes the creature was of youth, but no it was not this little cute fur ball one might be thinking, Fenrir was a big boy. Bigger than most dogs. Big enough to trap in iron jaws. About the size of that vampire on top.

  He bent grabbing the collar of that thing—Alex. Darren on the other hand would never return for his friend again.

  That disgusting parasite Alex—such a fitting name though isn’t it? It really defines one’s entire personality—piece of shit. Honestly, I’ve heard drippy STD's that had a prettier ring to them, and someone settled with ‘we will call him Alex'.

  A name that literally paves their path. They would all be a total dirt bags. I’m willing to bet every Alex out there sucks. Not just sucks but is complete trash, garbage nobody wants to deal with.

  Literally the type of folk it’s okay to call useless skin—it how they live they enjoy it. Its alright—in fact lets all just take a deep breath and say this aloud. ‘Every man who is a pig fucking shit bag and acts like such shall be called Alex whether it be their name or not.’

  Women have plenty of side names like that, some a more aggressive bite, but I think we all get the idea. Terrible whiny men Alex. Awful women Karen—yeah even here. Honestly I could go on but I think you all get the point.

  Sid lifted that vampire with a single tug, using but a fat hand—yeah that missing a finger hand.

  He lifted that vampire, allowing Fenrir to flee—don’t worry he didn’t run far.

  Alex attempt to scratch for the pup, than for the arm that hold him.

  Sid wrestled with that squirming vampire. Wrigley like a fresh fish. Only this fish had arms and claws.

  Forcing the thing to the ground with a hard slam. He endured 10s of scratches. His fat arms begin to hiss with a sizzle while each scratch ripped open.

  Alex screamed with each tearing he caused. He continued to claw at that fleshy man wrestling for control.

  Sid forced him to the ground again and again. Before he found a straddling sit on top. His chest smoked a bit as that vampire clawed up at him.

  Sid fight and grip for those scrawny arms. Grabbing that hand, the one opening the skin under his neck. He held it close. Using both his hands to get a good hold.

  The nasty creature scratched and rip at his hands.

  Sid now controlled one of the arms. Alex was a squirmy little thing. He had some claws on him to, slashing Sid’s arms and chest real good. It was decent act of evasion, but Sid finally snatched that loose arm. Like catching a fly mid-flight, he practically crushed the hand he caught.

  Not sure what to do at that moment, other than look at that snapping mouth of agitation he lost grip of that mangled hand. Wrestling it back he followed up with an attack of his own.

  Sid leaned forward with all his weight. Flexing every muscle in his back. Tightening every inch of his thick neck. Driving his forehead against those snapping teeth. Smashing with the force of his hammer.

  -Crack-

  It even sounded like the smash of an anvil. There was a sharp warmth in his eyebrow. It was teeth. Many of them holding a abstract mosaic pattern. A smoking sizzling pattern in his forehead.

  Sid looked at the monster. Rows of its teeth were missing, it still squealed shrieked and squirmed. Muscles tensed again.

  -Crack-

  He plowed his hard head against that thing. He could feel a dullness in the arms after that last one. Letting those noodle arms free, they dropped with a limp thud. Sid leaned all the way back. Rushing forward once more.

  -Smuck-

  There was something that broke on that last collision.

  Yeah it could have been a nose. Maybe even the eye socket. Perhaps the jaw that’s a good guess too.

  But all of that was wrong. Something completely broke in Sid—no not his nose either I’m not talking about a bone. Something deep was broke. Well broke-free might be a better phrase. Because that big man wasn’t attempting to stand. Oh no, no, no. The big man, he was only getting more comfortable.

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  Getting in a good straddling sit down, Sid predicted a mental storm. It started with a bit of precipitation brewing up there behind those beady eyes. Sprinkling down over that shitty town named Alex. Bellowing a nasty thunder.

  A horrid roar, shouting something about how he could have done better. Something along the lines of an apology—it was tough to say, Sid was really screaming.

  Than came the most heavy downfall to date. A rain of fury that would snap the limbs of trees and brittle bones alike. Not just metaphorically—well completely metaphorically but slightly literal too.

  -Splat-splat-splat-

  Sid started beating down on the vampire. Fist after fist bash against that face. A face looking to hold the many shades of evil and distress. It was a depression in both color and form. Heavy clenched fists mash. Like prepping a meatloaf. Beating at that memory right there.

  -splat-splat-splat-

  He pound with countless years of indignation. No matter how hard he hit though, he would never break the image that haunt him.

  A shadow lay only reaches behind while he screamed at the sky, letting those malice hands fall over and over. The crunching under each smoosh was skin tingling. Right up there with nails against chalkboards. It was a moist crunch. Almost gravely.

  -splat-splat-splat-

  He didn’t care about that chilling noise. The spray it supply didn’t bother him either. Nor did he care about the annoying wagon wheel that approached.

  The sight didn’t phase him a single bit. Typically all of this would cause him to turn stare before the trauma finds a spot. Like said earlier—the man wasn’t there.

  Yeah physically he was there. Sid was fighting with internal hauntings. Whispers of grief. Maybe even himself.

  Because he couldn’t see a vampire under him. Hell, we wouldn’t of seen a vampire, that head looked like a used up lime. One that had been juiced and pressed until the rind started to shred. Deflated and sad. Wrung out one last time just to be sure every last bit was taken. Just like now.

  Sid slammed against that deflating noggin. He didn’t even notice how easy it concaved, he didn’t care. He wanted to destroy that image of himself.

  The one beating down on that child. What an awful man he’d become.

  Roaring out with an exalted breath he continued the mud pie. Or red velvet brownie batter. Ah screw it—he continued beating the shit out of Alex. Wasn’t even a face anymore. Hell it was barely a head. Sid might as well have been playing in the remains of what once sat upon the weakest shoulders ever.

  He still seen it though. Alex biting on Fenrir. That might as well of been him—kicking at his son while he quiver in the dirt.

  “Tatheliea’s filthy smelly—Sid what is ye doin. Get off’ns him.”

  Abram shouted. Sid never paused to look he just beat and beat and the muck before him.

  “Sid gets off. C'mon me thinks ye won.”

  Abram hurried to Sid side grabbing one of those fat sticky fists. Actually his entirety was fairly sticky with gore. Even that bold mustache held bits of crimson flesh.

  Gods he had a mean stare—even from his kneeling. Big too. Only hands shorter than Abrams standing.

  He shoved the voyager away and continued splashing.

  Seeing Arieo Abram quickly walked to the wagon and grabbed Sid’s sword.

  Thank the gods nothing fall during the donkey’s escape. He liked how this little wagon had that feature—tipping it over was a different story.

  He gripped the handle with both hands. Not even noticing the white eyed shadow he walked in front of.

  Rotating the blade, and just before Sid could slam another fist, Abram drove the tip of the sword into that pit of carnage. The leather pouch sway before Sid.

  He watched the pouch like fool to hypnotism. Holding a fist above head. Sid slowly lowered while the pouch came to stop. He took exalted breaths before looking up at Abram.

  “Me don’t knows who be in that. Is it feelin good though Sid? Do ye thinks it be what they wanted. Me understands wanting to hurt a man, Sid. Maybe even break him a lil’ but this Sid—”

  “Have you lost a child Abram?”

  The messy mustache quivered before he smeared the deep crimson with a messier hand.

  “Have you lost a wife?”

  That lip-rug asked, while that smearing hand reached for the sword. Sid groaned while he came to a massive stand.

  Gods he was huge. 5 men thick—at least, and nearly twice as tall. Bigger than any man Abram had ever seen.

  “Me knows what loss is Sid, rather familiars with it. Oh yes, me’s lost many. No, not no child, nor a wife, but I knows about loss Sid—”

  “Do you feel responsible for the loss?”

  He could tell the voyager was appalled by the question. Rather taken back really, perhaps he didn’t feel that same rue of guilt.

  The man was an absolute mess though. Like he was the one rolling around in the mess of Alex down there. Abram never minded the question, stepping for the wagon.

  Sid noticed him remove a key from under the ruffle of that coat. Filthy coat.

  “Abram, what happened to you?”

  “Maybel got her freak on.”

  It was a simple answer. None of which made any sense at all, but it was an answer regardless. Who was—where was Fenrir?

  Sid scanned the shadows over the grass until one. Knowing what he was looking for, Fenrir looked nothing like a shadow. Yes, he was wispy and became one with the shades—but there was something different that Sid could see. Other than those white orbs of vision. He could feel a silhouette of energy.

  “Here Sid try this on.”

  Abram tossed a dusty beaten rug at him. A cloud of something forced him to cough as he caught the old thing.

  “Is this a horse blanket?”

  That dirty mustache wiggled, while Sid shook and dusted the thing.

  “It be the best me gots Sid. That axe of yer’s might fetch some trousers but nothing fancy. Lean down a bit for me too would yas.”

  Curious as to what Abram was doing in his hands—he leaned in.

  Perhaps the man had some sort of antidote for his wounds. Abram rubbed his hand tightly, then lifted one high. Slicing the air quicker than Sid could react.

  -SLAP-

  His braid whipped and his neck cracked he turned to look at Abram so fast. Face tight with anger.

  -SLAP-

  The second hit erased that anger. Both smacks stung. Skin tingled while the color began to flush.

  Sid was now in full shock. Half bent. Searching for reason—what the hell was that for?

  “That’s for me coat and boots ye son of a bitch.”

  Sid stood tall towering the voyager. Fenrir tucked his tail and walked under the wagon. Arieo waited patiently. If that flesh ball tried anything he would ram those guts until the man puke. Abram never cower at the shiny star of Intimidation. And that drove Sid absolutely insane.

  The two held a furious stare down before a raspy voice pierced. Causing Sid to jolt a bit. That rasp came sharp, like the smacks.

  “Wrap yerself Sid we nearly there. We gots to talk to someone—hopefully she still there.”

  Sid never asked who. Only wrapped himself with a horse blanket just a tucking too small. Holding the corners he ripped the blade from the dirt. Looking at the shadow under the wagon, before to the voyager who waited patiently.

  “Ready Sid?”