Fallout - Chapter One

These not-so-epic-and-really-more-dangerous-than-fantastical cases were beginning to take their toll, not only the detective and his assistant, but also anyone within a ten mile radius. This time, Hanna escaped with little more than a few bruises and a large, thin surface scratch on his left arm. Conrad, however, had been much less fortunate. He had come out of everything with a broken ankle and a new grudge to add to the pile.

Somehow, in the flurry of wings, teeth, tiny claws, and girlish screams, the Fairies had decided to turn their attention on the pitiful excuse for a vampire with viciousness previously unseen. Hanna had apparently had enough; just as before, he had appeared, minus a shirt, in front of the mob of tiny shrieking horrors and wielded the magic marker as well as a knight with a sword. When the whole ordeal was over, Conrad was placed in the ever so loving care of Doc Worth. Immediately after, both paranormal investigators walked back to the hole they called home (completely ignoring the shouts and curses already coming from the door, heard even a block away).

As they came into the apartment, Hanna strolled right over to the closet and went about changing his shirt, stained with a little blood and a couple almost unnoticeable claw marks. The undead man turned just in time to see Hanna facing him and tugging the shirt over his torso, heaving a sigh and placing a hand on his stomach. An obvious sign of hunger, and surely Hanna wouldn't stay quiet about it for long.

"Hey, let's order pizza to celebrate a job well done! I mean hey, we kind of made that huge hole in the roof, and the Fairies didn't exactly get captured, but these things happen, you know? We did the best we could and nobody could do better!"

That was how dinner was decided. The green-skinned man got the telephone number to the pizza place, and Hanna called up. "Double pepperoni, double cheese, stuffed-crust, extra large,  yes we'll have Pepsi, no we don't want a . . . yeah, you know what, we'll take the wings too, if they're THAT cheap. . . .Cash, yeah. Okay, thanks!" Hanging up, the redhead turned to look at his undead friend and grinned.

"Man, that stuff is GREAT! I mean, you . . . oh. Well uh. You can't eat any . . . but . . . uhhh . . . it's still amazing! I bet you'd love it!" He gave his usual well-meaning grin, and at that moment the zombie knew he had to ask now. If he didn't, Hanna would roll into a topic that he couldn't get out of and then . . . well, after Hanna found something to talk about, there was no turning back.

"Hanna, why won't you tell me what happened to your chest?" this question was spurred on by the zombie's reflection on the events of the night, plus the sight of Hanna's horrible scar again. The few times he saw the industrial-grade staples and stretched skin, the sight brought up dozens of questions that mostly went silent the moment they reached his throat. Before he could even finish the sentence, though, Hanna was laughing and shaking his head, avoiding any and all eye-contact the man might be trying to make.

"What do you mean, why won't I tell you? I never said I wouldn't---"
"Hanna, you don't have to say you won't tell me. I know you won't. Whenever you do not want to address a subject, you sidestep it. Very obviously."
"Hahahaha, side-step? I have no idea what you mean. ANYWAY, do you think Conrad is gonna be ---"
"See, there, you did it again."
"Did what?"
The zombie gave a sigh and shook his head. He gave up. He had tried to get onto this topic several times, but, never---

"I can't tell you because it's dangerous if I do. Dangerous for you."

The statement shocked Ignacius. Never had Hanna ever even revealed a snippet of a hint about anything as serious and confidential as this. Now that he heard such a mysterious tidbit, what was he supposed to . . . do with it? He didn't know if he should press it or not. If he did, there was a chance Hanna might never talk about anything like this again. If he didn't, any information that he might be able to get  would pass him by with this singular chance to get at it.
Just as the zombie was about to open his mouth, there was a knock on the door. "Delivery!" a deep voice called out, and Hanna leaped from the couch, hand diving into his pocket and yanking out crumpled bills. "Coming!" he made the short trot to his door and opened it up.

Expectantly, Hanna paid the full twenty-seven-dollars with ones, and just as he took the pizza and went to push the door closed- the man had knocked him back. A Glock 17 9MM was pressed against Hanna's temple, and a nasty grin was on the delivery man's face.

"Hello there, Cross. As you already know, I can take you dead or alive, so I don't really care about your comfort." He hissed against the redhead's ear, as Hanna stayed frozen, back against the stranger's chest, trying to stay calm and breathe and remember all that training from so long ago.

"Ignacius, don't move, I---"

"Oh, my, my. You really are stupid. They weren't kidding. See, I said I didn't care about your comfort, which means nothing you say or do is going to save you. Be a good boy and come quiet now, yeah? Maybe you'll live longer than originally intended." Hanna grit his teeth as the man let out a disgusting laugh and pushed the cold metal harder into his skin.

Ignacius was stone still and staring at the scene with absolute terror by now. There was a gun. A gun. And Hanna. There was no way out of this. What was going on? Why was someone trying to kill Hanna!?

"I got this, Ignacius, don't worry." He said lowly, eyeing his friend in a sort of affirmative it's-go-time way. Ignacius had no idea at all what Hanna could possibly do in this situation, but he had to trust the man. Even in such a dark, frightening hour, he would have to trust him.

In a flash, Hanna was jerking his foot back and up, into the man's crotch. The pizza delivery man was prepared and ended up just wincing and brushing it off, twisting at Hanna's hand, which had gone to knock the gun out of the way. He slammed the investigator against the door and gave a vile laugh, the gun now pushed between locks of bright orange-red hair.

"Do you think the color of your blood will contrast nicely with the hair? I think so. Let's find out."




Click. Boom.