Hummm sabes o que é que se diz acerca do pensar né?
O que interessa são os hits ao tópico. Deixa lá de lado os comentários porque esses só aparecem muito de vez em quando. Eu cá, se isso te interessa, estava a ler atentamente. Tiraste-me a xuxa, amuei.
Mata células cerebrais?
Pronto, já fiquei toda contente.
Toma lá mais chucha! Chapter 3:
The overly loud sound of gunfire shattered the stillness of the night, but, blessedly, we did not have to play it quiet. When cleaning up a residential area, especially after bedtime, not disturbing the neighbours could be quite a chore. Silencers are illegal, and we want to stay on the good side of the law as our reputation with them is less than stellar. This means that we only used them in raids to where the boys in blue didn’t call us as backup – like they had now. Fortunately, we were in the industrial zone, in the outskirts of town, and all that surrounded us were empty factories and warehouses, closed after hours.
Back in the day when I started bumping back the things that go bump in the night, I realized that theoretical knowledge is an invaluable tool against things that do not have a physical presence. But, while it can still be useful against things that do have a physical body, it will never be as good as a few rounds of a high calibre weapon – it certainly saves up on the chanting. I possibly sound cavalier, but it’s true you can get accustomed to anything after you spend enough time doing it. My life experience involves taking on all manners of strange manifestations and phenomena that science can’t handle: they could study it, test it in a tube, bring on the salts and their reading machines, but, in the end, they simply could do nothing about it. It was experience and a lot of trial and error that gave us our skills and weapons. And knowing that every new lesson from which you can walk out from by your own two feet, is a good lesson.
Adrenaline kept me twitching, and made it hard to reload, but the gestures were familiar and helped me to keep focused. I counted the clicks, not lowering my gaze to check on the progression of the reloading – in the middle of a fight, keeping an eye on your surroundings at all time is mandatory. Even split second distractions, like, say, checking your gun to verify you’re reloading it properly can have disastrous results. I barely had time to bless my training because the screeching figure rushed me from the shadows – had I indeed been distracted by my gun, I would certainly be caught unaware. This was a bad, bad scenario, because humans were involved. A breeder, possibly an incubus or some other fertility demon had set himself up with a little harem, in an old warehouse that seemed abandoned from the outside, but was quite the fix up from the inside. And now, as we tried to get to the lord of the manor, his concubines were hell-bent on defending him with tooth and nail. Smart bastard, as any human being worthy of that name would hesitate fatally about shooting a young woman in an advanced state of pregnancy. At least three police officers had and that’s why we were here now. In truth, SWAT could have done what we were doing right now with as much ease if not more, but when the strange wailing sounds begun, and the fourth police officer managed to crawl out missing his eyes, they decided it was not something they could handle and so they called for us instead of risking the lives of any more of their agents. Instead, they’d only risk ours. I’d call them “Bastards” for it, but the truth was most of us in the field were not the family kind. We could be good team players, but we had troubles keeping long-term relationships, we were paranoid, often neurotic and, to some degree, sociopathic. Which meant we were lonely people, and it’s far better to risk the life of one of us than to possibly rob a family of their father and husband, right?
I thought of the man whose arms I wouldn’t be returning to at home, and I expected to feel lonely and sad. I didn’t. I only felt tired and the notion I would have to enjoy the last few days of freedom as much as I could before my own personal hell begun. Despite my wish to reassure myself that it wouldn’t happen, my instincts told me otherwise – the Red File was going to be coming. And it was going to be bad.
Perhaps I should have been doing more paying attention and less thinking, because I didn’t react as fast as I could, and the screeching pregnant woman was on me while I still had my gun pointed downwards. I raised it as fast as I could, knowing I wouldn’t have time to threaten her with it, but certainly not going to risk feeling any of the hellish gifts their loving partner had given them to protect their infernal offspring. Smart bastard, I thought again. If females are the most dangerous of the species, then mothers protecting their cubs are the most dangerous of them all. Give them a few minor gaeas, and they would be able of causing horrendous damage to anyone stupid enough to trespass on their turf.
I didn’t even think, just let instinct take over, fighting for survival at its best.I squeezed the trigger and I could feel my semi-automatic tense and rear in my hand. I held tight. The blast of the gun mingled with the high-pitched scream of the woman, and I could feel a wave of warm goo splash all over my arm and torso. My shot had hit true, and it was gruesome. I had come unscathed from such a close-range shot only by miracle, and I now knew I had a new addendum to my list of sins: I had shot a pregnant woman in the stomach, at point blank.
Knowing fully well that if I kept delving on the matter I would be too emotional, I forced myself not to look, not to listen, as I continued to move towards the centre of the large compound. We had guessed that the nest was located there, among a maze of pilled crates and boxes, easier to protect, and allowing them to divide and conquer any incoming threads.
“Clear!” I shouted over to the rest of my temporary team. The element of surprise was gone, but we knew we had it trapped. The delirious ranting of the blind police officer tipped us to what was afoot, and we took five very important minutes to get in, during which we ran around like crazed mice setting up a circle of salt surrounding the entire warehouse. I think that the scene of the four commando-types and the small woman running around salting the ground would have amused the officers very much if they hadn’t lost a few of their own. I wouldn’t be feeling like laughing either if it had been with my mates.
As I weaved through the maze of boxes, I began hearing the careful, steady steps of the others, as we closed in, like prowling worlds. Our shadows danced around us, as the powerful police searchlights inundated the place with light, saving us from having to tread in the dark. Across the gaps in the walls of crates surrounding me, I caught glimpses of one of my companions, Mathew or maybe John, and I felt comforted – with them around, I’d have more odds of solving this by the book and not having to improvise. When I improvised, collateral damage started to rise and I started to give my best friend weeks of sleepless nights.
“Play it by the book.” I told myself, again and again, almost a mantra. “Play it by the book.” This was a matter that could be solved with tactics and weaponry. I knew what I was dealing with to be certain it wouldn’t be taken in alive – it knew that after we were done interrogating it, a banishment was all it could expect, and that meant it wouldn’t be able to return to this Realm for years. And I was glad. Most Others are lone predators, infiltrators, who attack from the inside, which makes it easy to root them out – it’s the pack hunters you have to watch out for. Of course, in the unlikely event of managing to catch one of them on their own, it’s not as if you will expect their pack to come to you complaining that their cub disappeared – at most, they’ll come all fangs, claws and fury, kicking down your door; but mindless violence we can deal with. Possession cases make everything more complicated, especially if the victims have families, but this isn’t very common. The Others who can’t fabricate a simulacrum of a human body and need instead to forge a parasitic relationship with a host usually target the lonely and solitary, because their presence alters severely the behaviour of their victim, and concerned friends and relatives asking questions is a sure way to expose them. Then, the true nasty and powerful ones will target someone with a large family – but in the end, the family won’t be asking questions because they will have fallen under the Other’s thrall.
Like the Mayor’s mother.
A split second after that thought bloomed in my mind, I berated myself. This was not the moment to think of the past, not now of all times. Guilt was a commodity for those without a job do to. I tried to think of the three families that had lost a father today, and the one whose life would be forever changed, and I felt my resolve harden. Yes, I was glad it wouldn’t be taken alive. Because if it was, we would wound up fighting with the police for custody, and, seeing cops had been killed, our odds of walking out with the Other were slim to none. We were still a dirty black secret, we weren’t a government body, and no cop I knew would let a cop-killer, Other or otherwise, walk out of their sights to a bunch of civilians. And I dreaded to think of what would happen if we let one of Them in a mundane cell.
I could feel before I could see the motion of my companions as we prowled towards the centre of the room where we knew it would be hiding – it was the farthest possible point from the huge circle of salt surrounding the area, after all. A few moments later, I got sight of them. We had all approached the centre from different directions, but now that we came upon the final block of resistance, the four men around me moved closer, so that instead of forming a circle, we’d be forming a half moon – it did give the target a place to run to, but it prevented us from hitting each other if we had to shoot. Besides, as devilish fast as They can be, I haven’t seen one outrun a bullet yet.
I expected a handsome, muscular, playgirl-type hunk cowering among the soft human shield made up by its concubines, ready to do a final stand – if other lives were lost with its own, it could feed on the necronergies and strengthen its spirit, allowing it to return faster and nastier. I was surprised to catch glimpses of a youth barely past puberty, but with the face of an angel. I found myself swallowing, as I took on the perfect features, the light blonde hair and those eyes, like some young Greek god lost on his way home. Enchanting me, I thought, it’s enchanting me. It was a lie and I knew it – my protections were enough to hold against anything under a minor demon; it couldn’t enchant, glamour or dominate me even if its life depended on it. That realization didn’t help, as I still wanted desperately to hold him. “Not ‘him’. It.”, I rebuked myself. This was a thing, a spirit with no gender; it wore a human guise, like anyone else would wear a suit.
The dozen or so of remaining girls clung protectively around it and it looked worried but prideful, its light eyes moving over each one of us at a time. Until our eyes met. I saw it smile, slowly, and something akin to relief washing over its features.
“On the floor, now! Get away from those females!” Mathew thundered at my side. Possibly he feared it would influence me, even though he knew that an Incubus method of approach was slow and subtle, and that I was hard to sway, hardened by experience and a healthy dosis of paranoia. I felt strangely comforted by his concern, even if it hadn’t been voiced. This was the closest to a family I had, and, despite being the ultimate dysfunctional familiar unit, I was glad I had it.
Unexpectedly, the boy, no… the Other got up, exposing himself to all the five muzzles of our guns, and smiled. Startled, we all tensed at the same time, steadying our mires, but it simply remained still, pushing down a little forcibly the whimpering girls who tried to cling to it, to protect it, leaving me with the queasy feeling that they weren’t so much as seeking protection, but, rather, satisfying an addiction.
Its eyes hadn’t left mine and I knew something was wrong. I just didn’t know what. I did know he was not going to attack. No, my presence had somehow changed the rules of the game. I hated it when that happened.
It pointed at me and said, simply “Her. I will only talk to her.” My companions tensed, their guns unmoving, expecting this to be some kind of different level incubus, one who could charm with but a few words. I expected it too, but I knew I wouldn’t be taken that easily – until it pouted, blew a golden lock away from it eye, in a startling human gesture, and nonchalantly sprouted a torrent of Latin in an eerie and ancient voice.
I felt my mouth open in surprise, and my companions looked just as startled, because despite their commando physiques, at least one of them was better at Ancient Latin than I was, while the others could give me a run for my money.
A gaeas. To me.
It had bound itself to my service, willingly; nothing asked in return, no limits set.
Capitalizing on the pause of surprise, it giggled softly, and rushed towards me, open arms, embracing me tightly around the waist. It was taller than I expected, only a few inches shorter than me, and I could feel the softness of its skin against my neck, and the subtle scent of its blond hair.
And I wanted so very much to hug it back.