29. At the Very Beginning

The bar, or to be precise what remained of it, was deadly quiet as Shalltear entered it once again, her enemy-turned-companion close behind her.

The downed patrons, most passed out and some probably dead, were sprawled just where Shalltear had left them, some of them bleeding profusely. She would need to take care of that, while they could answer her questions after death, it was easier to get them out of the living. After all, they tended to have a greater cognitive capability, which was conducive to answer the type of questions the True Vampire wanted to ask.

Regrettably, all the other patrons, that is to say those that hadn't picked a fight with Shalltear, had long since vacated the building. She was sure she could track them down and silence them, but it would take time and time was something she had very little of.

Sighing deeply Shalltear opened her inventory and took out a pair of healing potions. A few hundred of these had been given to her by the Supreme One in case she ever needed to, as he had put it, 'fix someone' and while she was loathe to waste them on such lowlifes the truth was that she needed them alive if she wanted to get anything of worth out of their puny human brains.

Having decided on her course of action Shalltear set on healing, at least enough for them not to expire before she got her answers, the human criminals. The first one to receive her 'help' being none other than the man who had started the confrontation.

He was pale from blood loss and unconscious, his crushed chest making each breath a titanic effort and while the bleeding had stopped, it looked like every second he lived was on borrowed time.

Shalltear was not careful, the mere idea of being so foreign to her, as she roughly grabbed the man's head and forced his mouth open before dropping a spoonful of healing potion inside of it before doing the same with his most serious wounds. The man choked for a second before managing to gulp down the liquid, its effects instantaneous. Colour returned to the man's skin as the stump where his hand used to be fully cicatrized and his breathing became easier.

Seeing that he would not die Shalltear dropped his head without a care, causing it to hit the ground, and moved to the next wounded. She was not liberal with the healing potion, if nothing else she barely gave them enough not to die for a few hours, at least long enough to obtain proper medical care and sometimes not even that.

Not that it would matter anyway.

Meanwhile, the man who had previously fought with her remained silent, content to observe her until she stabilized the last biker. It was then that he decided to speak up.

"What're ya planning to do with'em?" he asked, one hand pointing at the half a dozen unconscious bikers.

Shalltear ignored him and moved back to where the gang's leader lay, still unconscious.

"Hey shortstuff, didn't ya hear me?" the man spoke, a low grown in his tone "I ain't got any time to waste."

Shalltear narrowed her eyes as she looked back at him. While her first impulse was to chop his head off for daring to talk to her in such a disrespectful manner, the sight of his body, free of any wound or scar after their fight, stayed her hand. While she was sure she could eventually kill him, the truth was that she had no time to lose and she had already drawn too much attention to herself. If Shalltear did not want to fail Ainz then she had to give it her all to make sure the mission did not go any further off course.

"Be silent you mutt, lest I cut off that offensive thing you call a tongue." Shalltear mentally patted herself on the shoulder for keeping her anger in check and her moderated response. She was sure that if Ainz were present he would have congratulated her for her calm, diplomatic manners.

But the mutt was not to be deterred, taking a step forward and looking at her right in the eye he spoke once again, "I ain't no mutt and I don't care about ya threats, bub."

"Now what about ya-" he didn't get to finish, as a steely hard grip suddenly pressed around his chin, the True Vampire holding the man as she dragged his face to her level.

"I am not in the mood to hear you yipping, mutt." Ruby red eyes promising death found the man's blue. "So better learn to keep quiet unless spoken to. I am already being too generous as it is, don't make me get violent now."

But surprisingly, or not so much if one were to take into account he was seemingly an immortal, the man just stared back. His eyes were full of fire, an almost savage brutality promising a fight if pushed any further. "Then bring it, bub."

For almost a minute they stayed that way, their eyes fixated upon the other, neither making the first move. Eventually, Shalltear let him go, a deep sigh escaping her lips.

"You will live for now mutt, but don't get too cocky. I can always make time to kill you later," Shalltear spoke as the man massaged his jaw, blood flowing from where Shalltear's fingers and crushed flesh against indestructible bone.

Shalltear deeply disliked the idea of letting any offense to her by such a creature go unpunished, but the words of the Supreme one had stayed her hand.

'Keep a low profile, make allies. make Nazarick proud.' Simple words and not very specific either, but not even Shalltear needed more to understand her master's intent. If she was to represent Nazarick then she could not lower herself to the level of the savages she interacted with, especially when those savages could prove themselves useful, much like the mutt now facing her. For this reason, Shalltear would not act on her impulses, no matter how much she wanted to.

And Shalltear really wanted to.

"Yeah, I'll keep it in mind," the man answered while he massaged his quickly healing jaw "but I think we ain't got no time to waste anymore. So why don't cha tell me who ya are and what ya want with the trash? I've also need of 'em for something. You can call me Logan"

Shalltear once again found herself angry at the man's, now identified as Logan, words and again debated the pros of keeping him alive versus the cons of ripping his head off. Sadly for her, she had to accept that ripping his head off would take too long and could imperil her mission, which would then make her look bad in the eyes of her master.

"And?" spoke again Logan after Shalltear didn't answer him.

"... I am Shalltear Bloodfallen, Guardian of Nazarick, a… pleasure to meet you." The words were spat with the uttermost displeasure, as if she had been forced to swallow something vile, but Shalltear was now representing Nazarick and certain things, like proper manners when presenting oneself, were too ingrained in her being for her to ignore. No matter how much she wanted to.

Logan, clearly having noticed her displeasure, smirked at her but said nothing. He just crossed his arms over his bare chest and waited for her to continue.

"Go on bub, I'm waiting for ya explanation."

Gritting her teeth with enough force to crush concrete Shalltear thought about how to answer Logan. He was obviously a relatively powerful being, if for his regeneration alone, and he seemed to possess knowledge that Shalltear and more importantly, her master, would find useful.

"My mas- I am looking into a certain organization these…" She seemed to struggle, as if looking for the best descriptive for the unconscious bikers. "Things are in contact with."

"Yeah, 'bout the same." Agreed Logan.

Shalltear once again ground her teeth at the impertinence of the filthy human daring to interrupt her, but somehow managed to control the impulse to gut him where he stood.

"Yes, I assumed that was the case." As she spoke, Shalltear heard the man she had first healed start groaning, his consciousness returning.

Seeing that Logan smiled and moved to what remained of the bar's counter and started serving himself a drink "Then I'll let you get on with it, bub. I ain't in a hurry anyway."

Looking from the drinking Logan to the downed gang leader Shalltear had to suppress a snarl of fury. Her mood well and truly ruined by then.

Someone was going to pay.

---​

Nate Wilson's consciousness came back slowly. Much like waking up after a very long nap, his mind was clouded and his recollection of the events before losing consciousness fuzzy at best. That was before the pain hit.

Then Nate remembered everything alright.

Nate screamed, coughed up blood and then screamed some more as he felt and remembered all his wounds. The phantom pain from his severed hand, his cracked ribs and the dozens of lacerations still covering his body. Tightly closing his eyes and rolling to his side as he barfed a mix of his stomach's contents and a not inconsiderable amount of blood, Nate wanted nothing more than to fade back into blissful unconsciousness.

"Good, you are awake."

The voice was melodic but cold, refined yet harsh. Exactly as what one would imagine a noble lady would sound like. A voice that Nate had heard before.

With some effort, Nate pried open one of his eyes and looked at the owner of said voice. Her fair, snow-white, skin and blood-red eyes were the first thing he noticed. Then he took in her perfect features, as if sculpted by a god, her perfect lips, soft features and perfectly symmetrical nose. Nate knew that face, knew those cruel ruby eyes.

It was the girl from before, the one he had tried to make a pass at. The one that had cut off his hand and caused all of his other wounds. She was looking down at him and she was smiling.

Nate pissed himself.

It was a purely instinctive response. An atavistic impulse deeply rooted in the human psyche. Just like his ancestors had felt when they first emerged from Africa so many millennia ago, so did Nate felt the paralyzing fear of being in front of a danger he could not defeat. A predator bigger than him in any way or form, one that would toy and then eat him when it so pleased.

The monster in the body of a young girl, because that's what all of Nate's instincts told him the thing looking down on him was, smiled softly. The smile sending a chill down Nate's spine, the cruelty barely contained behind her eyes clear for him to see.

"I'm happy you woke up, I have a lot of things to ask you and sooo little time," singsonged the creature in front of him as she grabbed him by the shoulder.

"Now, if you don't want to suffer I recommend you answer my questions."

Nate was no coward. As the leader of the local chapter of the Sons of Man he had been in many fights, had seen people killed and had killed people. His gang had been founded over an ideal of superiority to certain creatures, like mutants and other 'freaks', and that meant fighting with things that could turn a man into paste were common.

Nate had been part of many such fights. He had beat other bikers to an inch of their lives, broken the skulls of lone mutants using nothing but his bare hands. He had even dealt with some of the most terrifying people the country had to offer without batting an eye.

None of that mattered, one look at the girl in front of him and all his courage and bravado had gone away. He was now a terrified wreck waiting for what was to come. And she knew it.

"So…" she said while lifting him up one-handed without any visible effort. "A week ago a number of mutants disappeared from a town close by and I heard you may know about it. Speak."

Nate was acutely aware of the hand holding him, the steely grip causing him great pain. He saw the girl's face, now level with his. He felt the fear from before intensify beyond reason. If before his instincts yelled to him the danger the creature represented, they were now screaming with eardrum bursting power. He knew what the girl wanted and the danger giving said information represented for him. But no danger could be greater than the one he found himself in, so with one last gulp, Nate started speaking.

The Sons of Man were a big biker gang, or a motorcycle club if you wanted to avoid offending any of its members. They were involved in everything from drug and gun trafficking to prostitution. They were a big gang, but not the biggest by quite a big margin, or at least they hadn't used to be.

Everything had changed three years before, when they had been contacted by someone high up in the government and made an offer the likes they could only dream about.

Power, wealth, influence and a free hand to act with no opposition by the government. It had all been promised and delivered as long as the Sons of Man gave one service they were well known for. That being mutant hunting.

They had excelled.

With each passing year of their new partnership, they had been given greater and greater payments. Their power grew and grew with no end in sight. Eventually, some of the members of the gang had grown proud. Mike, who had been leader of his chapter before Nate took command, had tried to blackmail their benefactor by threatening to expose them to the world if certain demands weren't heeded. Something that would not be tolerated.

Nate never knew how, nor did he want to risk knowing, but Mike had disappeared. He, his house and his identity. Everything from his family to close friends would deny any knowledge of his existence. Government records, properties owned by him and even social media pictures. He was completely scrubbed from the world, made into an unperson.

Then the man, who Nate only knew as "mister H" had come and told Nate he was the one in charge now and that they were expecting him to make a better job than his predecessor.

Nate's job had been simple, besides managing his gang's business he had only been expected to capture people. Sometimes normal humans, sometimes mutants. They were to take them by whatever means without raising suspicion and then deliver them to a secret location.

It was because of this that when the girl had asked him for the disappearances that Nate knew exactly who she was talking about. As he had personally lead the abductions as per the command of "Mister H".

Nate was afraid of Mister H and his organization, he was afraid of what they did, of what they could do. But at the end of the day, he was more afraid of the creature in front of him. It was not rational or logical in any way but one fear simply outweighed the other.

So Nate held nothing back. Everything he knew, from code words, to locations and even a few names, he gave away. But he didn't know much and every time the girl asked him something and Nate could not answer her displeasure grew. Her frown deepening each time he stuttered or failed to answer one of her questions.

"Show me where their base is." She ordered him.

Not having a way to show her at hand Nate started sweating, his eyes darting from place to place until they set on the only other conscious person in the room, a shirtless man drinking a beer.

Their eyes meet and he could see nothing but contempt on the man's eyes. Something that could only be described as pure disgust when looking at Nate. But Nate had no time to dwell on this, as the man broke eye contact and bent down to grab something.

"Here, catch" A second later the shirtless man threw a phone at him that he was barely able to catch with his remaining hand.

The girl's eyes narrowed as she drew back her hand, as if to strike Nate.

"I-it's a p-phone. Map, I.. I wanna mark the map!" He hurried to speak

The girl narrowed her eyes even further but did nothing else, causing Nate to breathe in relief. He had felt the girl's monstrous strength before and he was sure she could easily crush his head like a ripe melon if she were to strike him.

"Then do it now, I don't have time to play with you."

With a trembling hand and tears threatening to spill from his bloodshot eyes, Nate started working with the phone. Opening a map app and then finding the correct place before marking it.

"H-here, done. That's all I know, I swear!" With a shaking hand Nate gave the phone to the girl, who once she had it in her hands simply dropped Nate.

"What… what are you going to do with me?" Nate asked, hoping for some way to escape his fate.

"You did what I asked, so I will keep my word too" finally spoke the girl as she looked down at him.

Nate felt hope blossom. Maybe he would still make it out alive, maybe the girl wouldn't kill him and then she would run into Mister H and his people. Nate was sure she would be killed and if he played his cards right maybe he could even make it look as he was trying to help. Maybe-

Nate never felt the hand that pierced his face. Cartilage and bone broke under the inhuman force of Shalltear's hand. Nails tougher than diamond turned grey matter into minced meat before breaking through the back of Nate's skull.

With a slurping sound the hand that had ended Nate's life came out, the brutal girl-shaped vampire who had done it licking the blood coating her finely manicured nails with a smile on her lips.

"I said you wouldn't suffer, didn't I?"

---​

"It ain't like I'm gonna cry for 'em, but I don't think that was smart," commented Logan while Shalltear licked off the blood from her hand.

Blegh, it tastes as bad as he smelled. Pointedly ignoring Logan, Shalltear instead decided to clean her hands from the offending fluid. While Shalltear was a vampire, even she hated the feeling of dried blood under her fingernails.

"Hey shortstuff, ain't ya listening?" insisted Logan when Shalltear didn't answer.

"Yes! I am listening, mutt. But I don't see why I should care for disposing of the trash. I already got what I needed from him," answered the petit vampire, clearly annoyed at the mutant's question.

Logan simply looked at her as if she were stupid, making Shalltear even angrier. Why am I not killing him yet?

"Look, I ain't no expert on this but I know one or two things about them mooks and they ain't the sharpest tools in the shed if ya get me." Seeing that Shalltear did not he continued, "Look, when ya have them by the neck and threatenin' to cut off their heads they tend to speak but it ain't always what you need, only what they think you want ta hear. That's why you don't kill them until they take you where ya want to go. Or didn't ya think of that? "

Shalltear right eye twitched at that. She didn't want to admit it but she hadn't thought about it. She had just assumed that the man would give her whatever information she wanted and then die like the insect he was. Logan once again had shown her she had been wrong.

Of course it was not like it mattered that much.

"Hum, of course a mutt like you would think something so simple," she said derisively before looking down at the cooling corpse "[Animate Dead: lesser vampire]."

Spilled blood and brain matter coalesced into a black inky substance as the corpse of the biker started convulsing violently, as if he were having an epileptic attack. Not a second later it stood up, its body a parody of the man he used to be.

Before a second had gone by, six metallic blades were out and ready to carve the risen corpse, and Shalltear if it came down to it, if it became necessary. Shalltear couldn't help but feel amused at making Logan show he was nowhere near as confident as he tried to appear.

"What did ya do?" Logan asked harshly, nostrils flaring as he pointed a bladed fist at the newly risen Lesser vampire.

"Oh, how boorish. I said I could get the answers from him whether he was dead or not. This just means it won't cry and beg while I drag him around." Of course this was a lie and Shalltear had not had any intention of turning the biker and had just come up with the justification on the spot, not that Logan knew that.

"Don't do that ever again!" snarled Logan, all joviality gone.

Shalltear's smile was cruel and full of malice. She was still embarrassed about being called out by the filthy human, but she could not allow to show it if she wanted to maintain her image.

"Make me"

Mutant and vampire glared at each other, an explosion of violence about to commence at the first spark. But before they could have a second go at each other, a loud cough, followed by a soft cry of pain drew their attention away, breaking the stalemate.

Another one of the other bikers had woken up, his only half-healed wounds making it a not very pleasurable experience as he tried to crawl away from Shalltear and Logan.

"If you dislike my methods then please, do take care of this one," said Shalltear while giving a mocking reverence.

Logan didn't say anything, just turning around and walking to the downed man in two great leaps.

Before the crawling man could move a centimeter further, three razor-sharp blades sunk into the floor ahead of his head. With a whimper, the man froze.

"Heya, I wanna ask ya a few questions," as he spoke, Logan's other fist came close to the biker's neck, a sharp blade pushing softly against his throat. "And yer gonna answer."

The biker's eyes bulged as the tip of the blade pressed against his soft skin and assented feverishly, accidentally drawing a trickle of blood.

Shalltear took this scene in silence, curious about how Logan would conduct the interrogation. Violence was a good start as far as she was concerned.

Hmm, maybe he isn't so bad after all.

---

AN:

So you may be thinking "Wow Deatstroke, this took ages to write this and it was still shit" and you would be rigght. But things™ happened. I was kinda busy and then I got a new (if temporary) job that has me waking up at around 5-6 am and coming home at like 8 pm. So I was kinda drained and didn't really feel like writing (this chapter has been sitting at 900 words and I just got around finishing it yesterday). Regardless, I don't want to bore you with details of my life.

Now, you may have noticed not much happened in this chapter, but that's because thinbgs will start happening in the next one as I culdn't make all the events fit if I made everyuthing in one grate chapter (my limit is around 5-6k words per chapter, more than that and I start losing track and motivation).

Also, you may think I'm messing with you by not showing what happened with Strange's sudden intrusion and you are completely right. That's going to be revealed later on.

Also, (early) merry Christmas to all!