Unworthy is The Lamb: Chapter Zero (Patreon)

(Hey guys, here is a new story I'm working on. 

Updates will be sporadic and mostly on Patreon for now.)            

                                            – o – o – o – o – o – o – o –​

MAY 12, 2011

1:23 AM EDT

The alley was dark.

Almost pitch black, really, the sort of overpowering blackness that left one frozen out of fear, almost unable to find a shadow to even jump at.

It was dark enough that it was notable, even compared to the barely-lit streets this far into the Dockside part of town.

In this case, barely lit would have been a blessing.

The closest thing to light the alleyway offered was a fading light bulb perched above a door that led to a building owned by whatever unfortunate soul dumb enough to buy property this deep in gang-infested territory. Both the building and bulb had long gone past their lifespan, if the derelict appearance as well as the flickering of an almost completely dead filament meant anything at all.

The only sign that the place had any use at all other than its walls serving as a bathroom for the homeless that filled the area was the simple fact that the lightbulb remained on, meaning that someone had done the duty of paying the electric bill. Despite it all, the only source of light in the alley fought to stay on for longer than a few seconds at a time, the thing fighting for its life like some engorged, sickly firefly.

Truly, it might have been for the best if it breathed its last. While the encroaching blackness that filled most of the Docks at night was more than intimidating enough on its own, the barely-there and intermittent illumination only served the purpose of making the darkness feel alive, what with the ways the shadows shifted and shook under the unsteady lighting.

And as some people in Brockton Bay could attest to over these last few weeks, the creatures hiding in the dark were very much alive.

Especially in the dark of night.

That unsettling news didn’t seem to bother some others, though.

After all, it’s well known that in nearly any imaginable situation, there will always be those few that were either too stupid or too optimistic to heed common sense, continuing on whatever their path may be, regardless of whether or not that path put them directly into a dangerous situation.

“Ooh, found it!”

Case in point…

A young boy strode into the alley, a playful rhythm to his steps and a gait far too casual and relaxed for the time and place. The oppressive darkness didn’t seem to bother him in the slightest as he snapped his fingers to the beat that pounded through his ears, a tuneless hum on his hips as he meandered his way down the backstreet. Swaying side to side as he bobbed his head, the boy raised a hand upwards for a moment, not even pausing his stride as he adjusted the black baseball cap he wore atop his thick blonde mane of hair.

His free hand held a cassette player attached to the headset he wore beneath his cap, an 80s antique and one of the few things that his father had left him. His other hand dropped back down into the baggy front pockets off his red-and-white hoodie, a slight bulge barely showing near his stomach as he fiddled with the object he had hidden inside.

“You’re a lucky one, aren’t you, Greg Veder?” he paused his discordant humming to mutter to himself. “Perfect haul tonight.”

The boy known as Greg Veder knew, on an intellectual level, that tonight really wasn’t the night to be in or around the Docks. After all, the authorities had done a very good job in informing the public of the suspected parahuman serial killer going around on a killing spree throughout gang territory.

Bloody scenes had been found every single night for the past few days, viscera splattered across the floor and walls, bodies ripped apart, limbs torn to shreds, and occasionally people simply beaten to death. All of this had taken place without the killer leaving a single scrap of evidence that could give the police or PRT the slightest lead, a true master of their sick craft. With a body count estimated to be in the triple digits already, this person would have to be a rather powerful parahuman to accomplish all this in just a few weeks.

However, with all the drama going down on the other side of the Docks, Greg had assumed the authorities, both mundane and otherwise, as well as the local superheroes would be too busy to prevent him from sneaking past any measly lockdown of the area.

It didn’t take a genius to know that any rational person would have felt nervous, scared even, of what this news could mean for them.. Rather than feeling terrified or nervous, though, Greg couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of interest. After all, how close could the authorities really be to locating the culprit?

Hell, would they ever be able to find this guy?

The blond seriously doubted it. Man, BBPD couldn’t find a twelve-foot dildo if it was shoved up their collective assholes.

Rectal proclivities of the police force aside, Greg really only saw this as an opportunity to farm more experience while the boys in blue were running around like chickens with their heads missing. While aware of how callous that sounded in his own head, Greg didn’t really care all that much. In fact, strangely enough, he found himself caring less and less every day about what he did while chasing experience points,

The odd serenity that Gamer’s Mind seemed to emanate on a constant basis seemed to come with a side effect that Greg had been doing his best to stave off, a constant feeling of numbness. Almost every smile, every laugh…

Hell, most of the time, nearly every single emotion felt hollow without Greg emphasizing the moment in his head with some sort of skill gain or, on occasion, a fight. It was maddening how pointless doing something like playing a video game felt when it didn’t actually do anything for him. Any sense of accomplishment or achievement he felt from beating it didn’t really mean anything when he could get that same rush times a thousand from just slamming a hammer down on his thumb over and over and over for the better part of a minute.

Or, at least that used to be the case. Nowadays, a minute was just as pointless as playing the stupid game, whatever type of game it was. It tended to be RPG’s, for whatever reason. Those always felt the most boring.

As he neared the midpoint of the alley, Greg paused both his thoughts and his steps, stopping right before the area where the flickering light bulb lit up the brightest. A hand went down to his pocket, clicking the pause button on the outdated music device, and a moment later, he pulled the old-style headphones from his hair carefully, allowing the device to rest around his neck.

He blinked a moment later, eyes flashing from sky blue to a bright gold for an instant, another blink returning his iris to normal. The boy's smile grew into a grin, this time his eyes lighting up in a wholly figurative manner.

“I know you're there.”

The alley remained still, silent apart from slight noises that could be dismissed as the scurrying of rats and other pests. In a way, that was true.

“Seriously, there's no point hiding. I can see you.” Greg raised a hand, pointing directly at the overflowing dumpster over on the right. “Yes, you, the one behind the dumpster. And you, the one by the empty boxes. Also, you two… seriously?”

Greg's eyes flicked over to a set of discarded mannequins stacked up against the filthy alley wall as he let out a snorting laugh, eyes filled with mirth. “Who do you think you're fooling with that?” His gaze flicked back and forth between the three locations, iris flashing between gold and blue in between blinks, faster than any normal person could catch. “Seriously, did you think I was just going to let you ambush me? Are all Merchants this stupid or what?”

The alley remained silent, leaving Greg looking like a crazy person as he continued to berate the seemingly empty walls with a wide smile on his face. Then, the vague rustling noises shifted into sounds of audible movement, movement of something much larger than rats coming from several different locations.

Huh, six of them? The blond raised an eyebrow. Guess my count was off.

Almost as one, several figures rose from the darkness of the alley, shambling forward like zombies. Considering what they actually were, the phrase zombies wouldn’t be too far off. With all the drugs in their system, they were only a little better than the living dead. The six men, all of them in torn, ratty, and just generally filth-covered clothing, stepped into the shuddering spotlight, most of them visibly armed.

Greg’s gaze snapped down to the one on the far right, his eyes tracking the rusted weapon in his grip with interest. Wow, a machete. I’m feeling nostalgic all of a sudden.

He raised his head, giving the men in front of him an uninterested expression that seemed to display as much bored contempt as Greg could muster. “Let me guess, you were gonna rob me, beat me up and possibly stab me a few times, weren’t you?” He let out a snort, rolling his eyes with expertise. “Merchants gotta merch, I guess. I wonder what it feels like to be considered scum in a city with plenty of Nazis.”

One of them rushed forward, screaming profanities and invectives at Greg just like he expected. The Merchant in question, an older man with a filthy, matted beard, screamed something Greg couldn’t make out and swung a dirt-covered pipe at his head. With supreme ease, Greg leaned back and to the side, watching as the look on the old man’s face switched from belligerent to confused.

As he recovered from his confusion, the man swung his pipe again only to jerk to a stop as the bludgeoning tool refused to move. He glanced down at the weapon to see a pair of gloved fingers holding tight to the metal, his gaze tracking the fingers back over to Greg as he blinked in confusion for several reasons.

The hand inside his hoodie tensed as Greg’s hand surged from his pocket. Before he could open his mouth again or attempt to strike once more, the Merchant’s hands rushed to his throat, red seeping through his fingers as he fell to his knees. Weapon discarded, it fell to the floor with a metallic clang, scattering across the floor.

“Total slaughter, total slaughter.
I won't leave a single man alive.”

Greg stepped to the side, continuing to grin at the other Merchants as he brought the blade of his knife down again in a much slower movement, driving it directly into the top of the bearded Merchant’s skull. With a sick squelch, he pulled it free and flicked the serrated knife in a blurring movement, blood flying from the blade and scattering against the wall.

“La de da de dai, Genocide.
La de da de duh, An ocean of blood.”

Greg took several steps forward, walking towards the now-frightened Merchants as their bearded friend finally fell to the floor in a pool of his own fluids. The blond’s disinterested expression shifted into a bright grin, eyes flashing a bright gold and staying that way.

“Let's begin the killing time.”

                                            – o – o – o – o – o – o – o –​