the_gene_genie | (no subject)

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krampus

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He slams his way out of the back door, with no more plan than to start looking and not stop until he's found her. The beast itself is secondary at this point; he wants Alex back, and he'll do what he has to to make it happen.

He starts with a cursory look around the lake. It's just to rule it out; no animal is going to linger around an exposed space on its own, especially when its so popular with humans. So when that's done, he heads to the forest. It isn't that cold anymore, but the wind is getting up something fierce, and it's going to rain any minute. He doesn't give a toss. Let it rain.

The problem with the forest is that it's bloody massive, and even in his rage, he knows there's next to no chance of just stumbling across the thing when he's out here on his own. A couple of hours later, he's hot and wet through, and more furious than before. He stops to rest his back against a tree, and wipe water off his face. This isn't working. Maybe try somewhere where a bloke on his own has got more chance. He can always go back and recruit help for the woods later. So, he takes a bridle path he's familiar with, and walks on towards the mountains. He shoves his hands in his pockets, and buries his chin in his collar - and because of that, he almost misses the shadow that crosses the path up ahead. Almost.

His gun is in his hand half a second later. For once, he doesn't shout. If this is what he's looking for, he's not about to scare it off now.

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It is tall, and its gait is uneven; it has long horns, shaggy fur, and chains jangle from its wrists; when it steps on the bridle path, it is quite clearly visible.

Yep, definitely what he's looking for. He sets his jaw as the desire to run at the thing and beat some answers out of it floods through him. He's never been the best at ignoring this instinct. And he doesn't now. He just...puts a lid on it. A loose one.

The horns could be a serious problem if he gets up close. It doesn't walk straight though, and maybe its chains could be used against it. Gene walks forward, keeping to the dark shadows at the edge of the path. Hopefully it'll move on, and he can follow it back to where Alex is.

And then rip its bollocks off.

It dawdles up the hill, humming something simple in a rough, unpleasant voice, like a wolf trying to sing 'Jingle Bells'.

The fur is very long and shaggy, and there is a whiff of wet wool.

Adrenaline courses through him like a soft-running stream, warming him from within, keeping every sense on alert. The creature's off-key song is cut through by gusts of wind that blatter rain against his cheek, and his fingers feel stiff around the handle of his gun. But he doesn't take his eyes off the thing, even when it starts to get steep.

He wasn't that far off it being a giant goat. It'd be funny, if he didn't want to kill it so badly.

The creature doesn't seem to mind the weather; it wanders on, occasionally ripping a dead branch off a bush as if picking flowers.

The chains are rusty, and hang from heavy manacles; but the monster doesn't seem to mind.

The way it ambles on its way is offensive, as if it hasn't just kidnapped a bunch of people. He raises his gun, grinding his back teeth together. But he can't bring himself to do it. There's a lot of mountain up here, and it could be going anywhere. He moves on, pushing his hair off his forehead. But the creature doesn't hurry up, or act in any way like it should. It doesn't even seem to be hiding. And it should. It bloody should. Alex is missing, and this thing doesn't give a toss.

He climbs on. The ground is more difficult, and he can't keep his gun level on the thing. At this rate, it'll be gone before he manages to get a shot off anyway. The frustration starts to boil over, and he can't take it any more. He stops. He can't shoot it in the back. But he can make it talk; he's Gene Hunt, he's good at that. So he scoops a rock up off the ground, doesn't have to aim, just lets it loose at the back of the thing's head.

It turns around.

Its face is hideous, and the tongue, long and red.

He brings his gun to bear.

'Where are they?'

"Mine!"

He tries to hold it in. He really tries. His hand is shaking with the effort, and he can't swallow past the rage.

The first shot is aimed at the shoulder.

'I'm not gonna ask you again.'

It pokes a long claw into its fur, brings forth a bullet, and drops it on the ground.

The long horns shake, the shaggy mane flies. "Mine!"

The bastard didn't even flinch. Gene steps forward, every rough stone threatening to make him burst out of his skin.

'Where is she? I swear I'll put the next one between your soddin' eyes.'

The monster touches its forehead, looking puzzled and squinting at its long clawed finger.

His finger shakes on the trigger.

He can't squeeze it. Can't just kill it, if it can die at all. It's not who he is, much as he'd like it to be sometimes.

'Bastard.'

He mutters it under his breath as he steps forward, spins the gun in his hand and attempts to pistol-whip it in the face instead.

Edited 2014-01-03 00:30 (UTC)

The monster has long teeth, and it bites, almost playfully, at the gun.

He kicks out at its legs, snarling with fury; he's bloody sure the gun's connecting, it just doesn't seem like there's any impact. It's magic, isn't it? Or a demon, or something. Typical.

'Tell me if they're dead.'

He swings again, desperate now.

'You can say that, at least.'

"Mine!" the monster says, with a horrid smirk.

A long claw pokes Gene, almost playfully. It is very sharp.

It is very sharp, and draws blood very easily. He grabs his shoulder on reflex, and jumps back out of reach. But he keeps his feet, and just stands there for a moment, breathing hard and watching the thing.

'Is that all you can say?'

It's thick as two short planks, isn't it. The realisation makes his heart fall with a thump, because how can you reason with a kidnapper that's already got what it wants, and seems to be enjoying keeping its mouth shut.

But if it thinks they belong to it...maybe they aren't dead. Maybe they're being kept, like possessions. He looks around wildly, through the rain, searching out any sign of where the thing might have been going.

He shouldn't have stopped it. He knew it, and did it anyway. Christ, he really is a stupid kid.

The creature looks at him, and laughs.

Then, it turns around and starts walking away again, but faster, just a tiny bit faster than Gene can possibly keep up with.

While it walks, it starts singing again, a wordless hum of great ugliness. It sounds as if it was cruelly murdering the ancient tune of Quem Pastores Laudavere.

He tries, though. He bloody tries. He stumbles over rocks, and slides on gravel, and falls more than once. The thing's getting away, but he can still follow its direction.

When it's almost too far, and only a darker patch of shadow than the rest of the night, he stops and empties the chambers of his gun with a roar of frustration. It's too much to hope that any of them hit, but you never know.

When silence returns, suddenly, there is a crashing noise ahead, and the monster comes back, charging right at Gene now his gun is empty.

It whacks him around the ears a few times with the bouquet of dead branches it has collected. It stinks of smoke and wet fur.

Then it jumps over him, crashes into the bushes, and runs, still singing, up the mountainside.-

There's no time to do anything but fall. He doesn't bother trying to get up, not until the creature's long gone, and he's not sure he's capable of lifting his sodden clothes off the ground. His head swims, his shoulder burns. His legs ache from the climb, and he's no closer to getting Alex back.

But he'll never find her up here in the dark. He needs to tell what he knows, and maybe find someone with the right kind of magic to counter it. They might not be dead. It might not be too late.

He drags himself up, steadies himself on a rock and moves off, heading down this time. He'll come back in the morning.

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