walkin' like a zombie

Hayate quivered, alert and ready as always. The night was cold and moonless and there was something overly eerie about the way the shadows crept around the forest floor tonight. Overly cliché, like a scene from a badly written horror movie, that's what this felt like to him, and he couldn't help but let out a soft bark of laughter to no one in particular. The gruesome creature that was his hunting dog prowled along next to him, clouded eyes set up at his master, awaiting command. Hayate had set out on an easy contract this evening, one of the undead crawled up from it's grave to torment the living. Nothing a heavy blow to the head wouldn't sort out.

Drawing out the pistol strapped to his leg from it's holster, he loaded it, an empty canister dropping to the ground beneath his feet. "Where are you, you fucker?" He murmured, a growl rising up from the throat of the hellhound stood obediently at his feet. A useful creature, though not all that nice to look at. Sparky had at least double the strength of even the biggest dog, and the only real emotion he ever experienced was aggression. Not a very conventional pet, and Hayate wondered if you could have even called him a pet at all. "Sic 'em, boy."​

Hayate was on this creature's trail, his dog had charged ahead of him, nose to the ground, tail in the air, lifting his head every now and then to let out a bay to signal to his master that he'd found something. Hayate could smell fear on the air, and that sent a sick sense of satisfaction through him like a fox on the trail of a rabbit. He just wanted to shoot the damn thing and go home so he could get back into bed, maybe Sparky could bring back a leg to chew on, he'd like that. Kicking himself into a run, Hayate's eyes had to take a moment to adjust to the light, ducking sideways to just miss a tree he'd almost run head on into.

The forest was thick and winding but Hayate knew where he'd come from, he could find the scent trail and track himself back to where he'd come from. He was good at that kind of thing, and at least if he couldn't find the way back, Sparky certainly could. Pausing, the man had come to a more unfamiliar part of the forest, where the trees were gnarled like monsters and a large owl sat up high in a branch, studying him with large, dark eyes. He growled softly at it and pushed forward, following that same scent. His ears swiveled, hearing panting that was neither his own nor his dog's, and that scent grew stronger. It wasn't an unpleasant smell at all, a sweet smell that reminded the hunter of dying flowers. The dog sprung forward, leaping out toward the cowering boy and cornered him.​

Ca-chak. Hayate pointed his gun at the boy, that 32. calibur pistol staring him right in the face. The creature was terrified, and the noise that he made almost made the man laugh, instead a smile touched his lips, and the dog backed off, leaving only the hunter with his gun aimed at Nixton's head. He'd never come across something quite like this. The undead were stupid creatures, slow moving and generally didn't pay attention to their surroundings, but this boy was pressed against the bark of the tree behind him, and Hayate wondered if that growl had been a feeble effort to deter him.

Or maybe this was a trick. No. He almost felt a pang of guilt that he was about to blow this kid's brains out. No - it wasn't almost. Hayate rarely felt guilty, and it was an odd feeling that hung heavy in his chest. Maybe it was because this creature was just a little more human. Cautiously, he lowered the gun, stepping forward a short way and studying the boy. He was sickly looking, quite obviously dead to the trained eye - no matter how hard Hayate strained, he couldn't hear a heartbeat. "What is dead, should stay dead, y'know."​

Not dead? He looked pretty dead to Hayate. But he had lost his chance, the stammering boy had turned and fled, and the hunter let out a soft tut. Sparky let out a low, rumbling growl and took to a run, paws thundering on the earth after the boy. But now he was curious, if he didn't do anything the hunting dog would rip him to pieces and that would be the end of it. Hayate didn't like that thought, the kid was like a frightened deer that merely wanted to run. Did this kid know his way out? He doubted it, he merely imagined this was where he lived. -It didn't at all occur to Hayate that he might have a family and a life.

Well, sort of a life, anyway.

"Jesus Christ, Sparky, don't kill it." He yelled after the dog, receiving a gruff bark in reply. The dog pounced again, paws hitting the boy's shoulders and slamming him hard down onto the forest floor underneath him. The hellhound stood on his back, panting softly and waiting for his master, a look on his face that could have been look what I caught! A trail of thick, gleaming saliva had dribbled down from the dog's tongue, finding it's way to Nix's hair.​

"Eat him?" Hayate laughed at that notion, "not if he eats you first." The man shuffled over to crouch next to the boy, staring at him and frowning just a little. "Where did you come from?" He gestured for the dog to get off, placing a boot in the middle of the kid's back instead. He didn't feel like killing this boy, he could feel him quivering beneath his boot and he felt a little sorry for him, his prey never usually cowered so much. Hayate unloaded his pistol and slipped it back into the holster on his leg. "If I let you up, do you promise not to run away?" He asked, doing his best not to sound so threatening.

At least if he promised not to run away, Hayate wouldn't feel so bad shooting him if he broke that promise. What did I do to deserve this? The hunter pouted just a little, what did anything he killed do to deserve what he gave them? They're an abomination, that's what. Creatures that prowled the night and feasted on human flesh generally weren't things that Hayate really approved of.​