P.O.V: Morgan Key Blackwood
With the sunset at my back, I stand before one of the many subway stations abandoned by the hand of God... though God is pretty much dead, anyway.
Shaking my head, I take a deep breath and stretch my muscles. I take advantage of the fact that there are no police in the area and, using my spider-strength, I pry open the heavy door. It makes a loud, grinding noise, but instead of staying out in the open, I quickly duck inside and pull it shut behind me.
Once inside, my eyes adapt to the darkness surprisingly fast. It catches me off guard for a second before I remember that Killua is one of the templates I'm assimilating; being able to see in the dark must be one of the most basic skills an assassin has to learn. With that thought, I begin to make my way through the derelict station.
The upper level—where the turnstiles, ticket booths, and small, empty kiosks are located—is in a clear state of neglect, covered in years of accumulated dust and grime.
There are also several puddles on the ground, likely from plumbing systems that haven't been maintained in ages and have finally started to leak.
As I explore deeper, I notice a few makeshift shelters. They're nothing more than scraps of cardboard and fabric that some homeless person probably used to live here. But what truly catches my eye is the dried blood splattered around the area. It's a clear sign that any unfortunate soul who wandered down here was attacked by something supernatural.
Suddenly, a sensation like a sharp itch or a violent prickle hits the back of my neck. Reacting instinctively, I launch myself upward, sticking clumsily to the ceiling with just my hands. I look down.
In the shadows of the tracks, four reptilian or amphibian-looking creatures are prowling. They walk on two legs and stare up at the ceiling, letting out strange sounds—a mix of growls and gurgles—as if they were shouting insults at me in their own tongue.
"What the fuck are Murlocs from WoW doing in DxD?" I ask, confused. Unsurprisingly, the Gacha doesn't answer, as it has nothing to do with this.
With a huff and an incredible display of flexibility I didn't know I possessed, I manage to reposition myself so that my feet are planted on the ceiling while I hold on with just my fingertips. I stare down at the freaks. They're all carrying improvised weapons: metal bars used as spears, some with chunks of concrete still attached used as clubs, and one is even holding a ballpoint pen as if it were a knife.
I can't help but snort in amusement. I try to mentally prepare myself. They aren't human. These things kill humans. They're likely responsible for the blood back there. You don't have to feel empathy for them...
Hardening my heart and planning my next move, I let go of the ceiling and propel myself downward. Mid-air, I spin and deliver a flying kick that would make a Kamen Rider weep with pride. I slam into one of the Murlocs, but instead of the typical episodic villain from a show, he doesn't explode in sparks. Instead, he literally turns into a red paste, splashing blood onto my face and staining my clothes.
Great... my only set of clothes in this world, and now they're covered in the blood and guts of a super-mutant frog.
His friends growl at me in a blind rage. The one with the pen lunges at me, intending to stab me. I respond with a roundhouse kick, but I put too much power into it; instead of sending him flying, I literally rip his head off with a single strike.
Okay, I need to practice some moderation with these things. I don't want to end up ripping someone's head off when I'm only trying to knock them out. I move to intercept a blow from a Murloc with an improvised club, pulling him toward me and delivering a punch that leaves him dazed but nothing more. Okay, that was a bit less force than I intended.
Giving him another hit somewhere in between the two extremes, I finally cave his head in with my fist. He dies, but at least his gray matter and spinal fluid don't paint the entire floor this time.
When I turn to look at the last Murloc, he panics. He drops his improvised spear and starts to bolt. I was about to chase him down and kill him, but a thought occurred to me... If these things are like the ones in the games, it means they are a community. And if they have a community, they have a base. If they have a base, they have resources.
With the scent of ozone filling my nose, I turn transparent and begin to follow him. He jumps onto the train tracks—which haven't been used in god knows how long—and runs toward one of the tunnels.
I follow from the ceiling, moving silently. The creature runs at full speed, occasionally looking back to see if he's being followed. He reaches a strange detour and, after turning a few corners, enters a sort of cave. Once he's inside, I drop from the ceiling and follow him slowly, making no sound.
After what feels like five minutes, I arrive at a sort of village built from scavenged materials: cardboard, wooden planks, scraps of iron, and rough pieces of concrete shaped into bricks by their own hands. As I scan the area, I'm about to launch into a swift slaughter to seize this cave as my makeshift base, but then the Murloc I followed reaches a large group. They all crowd around him and...
A female Murloc with a greener tint appears, along with a small one that is a mix of the male's blue and the mother's green. It was his mate and his child.
Another pair appears... then three more. Murloc females and one or two small ones—their children. The mothers growl something in their language to the survivor, and he shakes his head. The females begin to growl in a series of tones that sound more like weeping than anything else. The little ones look at them in confusion or cry along with them.
A sinking sensation hits the pit of my stomach. They were families. Families that I just started dismantling. I began to feel sick. I... I didn't want... No... No... Calm down... They are monsters... The fact that they are sentient and have emotions doesn't stop them from being monsters... At the end of the day, they would still kill humans for food without caring if they had families or not... Breathe... Take a deep breath... Okay... You can do this.
Moving with stealth, I approach one of the armed Murlocs and, with a heavy blow, drive his head down into his torso. I grab another by the face and concentrate my bio-electricity, frying him until he goes limp.
My presence is noticed, and they quickly scramble toward the exit, but it's been sealed. I used the blood from one of the monsters and Alchemy earlier to close the only entrance. They look on in confusion, scratching at the door—at least the ones who seem to be mothers and the children they carry.
The males and soldiers surround me, but it doesn't take much to eliminate them. A punch, a kick, throwing one against the rocks and watching his body bend in directions his species probably shouldn't bend. Finally, when all the warrior Murlocs are dead, I stare at the last survivors: the mothers protecting their children.
A part of me wanted to leave them. They wouldn't be a nuisance; I wouldn't have to worry about them. But another part of me thought: They will grow up with hate. They will resent me and might find a way to kill me eventually. Instead of waiting for the typical "tragic vengeful survivor" cliché, I simply raised my hand. Somehow, it felt natural as the muscles in my arm tensed all the way to my fingertips. I felt my nails sharpen and turn into lethal claws.
"I'm sorry... but the only law that governs the supernatural... is the law of the strongest. I'll make it quick."
[End of Chapter]
Current Status:
Name: Morgan Key Blackwood
Assimilated Cards: (None)
Assimilation Slots: 3/3
Miles Morales (98%)
Edward Elric (35%)
Killua Zoldyck (21%)