by Mark Swaine
“Your blood,” whispers the stranger in prolonged delight.
“Who said that?” says the raider, angry and afraid.
“‘Twas I,” whispers the ominous stranger.
As sounds of violent crunching and splashing fills the shadow of the alley, families hold their children in a protective trembling embrace. One of the raiders manages to escape and makes a run to the exit where a few rays of sunlight will grant him his first taste of comfort and release from this unpredictable nightmare. The raider appears hopeful that he will clear free from the alley as he sees his comrades causing havoc some twenty feet away. The raider is close to clearing the alley when he feels a sharp force across his waist. He trips forward, bounces and slides onto his chest and moans in pain as he looks down at four, deep neat wounds in the side of his waist. At the mouth of the alleyway and caked in the blood of his fellow murderers, the raider laughs in relief as he begins to crawl forward into the sunlight. The raider looks back as a tall figure staying within the limits of the shadow begins to laugh with him as he kneels by the raiders foot still within the confines of the alleyway.
The raider's laugh subsides as he watches the lean's man's skinny elongated long nailed fingers wrap around his ankle and he releases a short scream as he disappears in a sudden vicious drag back into the alleyway. The Jiangshi slashes at the raider's neck and immerses his mouth into his spurting wound to drink his blood. The raider's mouth turns blue as his face turns white and skeletal. The stranger grabs the wheezing man by the throat and snaps his neck with a simple turn of his wrist, then returns to his spot of shade at the T-junction of the blood soaked alley.
“Thank you kind stranger, thank you for protecting my family,” says a humble father.
The silver eyes of the unnamed man turn to the grateful father, and they glint in the shadow.
“Do not thank me yet,” says the stranger cautiously.
Xan Li powers forward like a woman possessed and delivers a fatal strike across a massive shouldered merc. Just like the Samurai, not all of the Onna-Bugeisha were selected for immortal life, and are too susceptible to the undead infection. Xan Li chops the limbs off a mercenary as he swings a mace at her head, and screams in protest as she bears witness to a mortal sister-in-arms being cut down by a heavy axe. Distracted by her comrade's death, Xan Li fails to heed the mercenary behind her. As the carnage of falling limbs and splashing blood plays out behind Zui, he sighs annoyingly as he listens to the footsteps slowly approaching behind Xan Li's familiar pacing. Zui smashes the ceramic pot on the bar surface and with an outstretched arm and spaced fingers he flicks the serrated shard backwards. As the well paid merc brings the handle of the scythe down in his gauntlet clad hands, Xan Li turns to face her attacker as a small triangular shard whizzes by his neck, severing a major artery. As a stream of blood gushes from his tiny cut, Zui takes a peach from a nearby fruit bowl and opens it in half.
Cutting it open and taking the stone from the centre, he flings it backwards. The peach stone impacts the merc's forehead as he grips his gushing neck, and his face jolts as a fracturing bloody zigzag streaks across his head whilst moving his nose out of place. Zui shakes the loose noodles off a pair of chopsticks and throws those back as well. The chopsticks rush across the square and drive through the merc’s eyes and exit the back of his head, gasping in incomprehension, the mercenary finally drops dead.
Mǎkè sees the old woman again, crying in fear in a dark corner whilst huddling her baby from danger. Mǎkè races to aid her and she passes him the baby for safe keeping as she bows gratefully with her palms pressed together. Xan Li double takes at Mǎkè evading to the safe corner and she bellows something he hear over the chaos. Mǎkè doesn't see the old woman beside smiling a row of transparent curved teeth as her eyes turn black, nor does he pay heed to the flaps of skin opening up to reveal eight more eyes on her forehead and temples. Xan Li shouts louder. Still unable to hear her,Mǎkè holds his hand to his ear and winces as he tries to comprehend her words screamed insanely across the courtyard. Mǎkè baby talks the infant and rocks the bundled tot gently to soothe its cries, and he shouts as gently as possible over the hordes of frantic civilians running back and forth as not to alarm the baby.
“That is not a baby!” shouts Xan Li, watching two pincers momentarily exit the smiling mother's cragged mouth.
“What, of course it’s a baby,” says Mǎkè laughing off the crazy warning whilst tickling the baby's chin and blowing a raspberry.
The old woman, aware of Xan Li's warnings huddles closer to Mǎkè and he places a secure hand on her abnormally hairy back whilst securing the baby to his chest.
“Shì Joro- Gumo (it is a Joro-Gumo!)” shouts Xan Li frenetically.
“Hello Joro-Gumo, that’s a pretty name. Fear not, you are safe with Uncle Mǎkè, who's a big baby, who's a big baby,” says Mǎkè with a babbling voice, “who's a big, big baby, who's a big pretty ba...” stutters Mǎkè as its eyes turn pale.
The baby's skin suddenly collapses as if to deflate, and round twitching bumps shift under its baggy exterior underneath. The old woman looks up at Mǎkè with her ten blinking eyes and retracting pincers and his face is expressionless in a state of delayed shock. Mǎkè slowly and carefully looks over the old woman's shoulder and sees his hand resting firmly on a bed of long stiff hairs. Mǎkè pats her on the back nervously as the skin on her wrinkled face begins to stretch apart and rip as her curved teeth protrude further out from her black gums. The frozen and anxious man looks back down at the baby's face and the morphing infant stares back before its two eyes pop open to release a steady stream of large legged spiders. Suddenly the entire baby encapsulating the old hag's offspring begins to laugh in a deep growl as the flesh eating spiders eat their way through its mimicked shell. The infant's eyes suddenly turn black and look at Mǎkè.
“Uncle Mǎkè, you have been chhhhhhhhossssssen to enter the jaws of the Joro-Gumo,” says the demon baby in a deep voice.
“Such a beautiful child, I must be going now, farewell,” says Mǎkè with a nervous crooked smile whilst carefully placing the decaying baby back into the old woman's pincered limbs before briskly walking away.
Mǎkè daren't look back as he listens to the squelching sound of pushing and doesn't even want to imagine what transformation is taking place behind him as he picks up his pace. As the old woman's makeshift human guise slips of her real body, she shakes loose her saggy wrinkled limbs and slack skin. Mǎkè makes the mistake of looking back as her robes open up to reveal a sleek black body covered in short hairs. In a backwards stagger he watches eight legs grow from underneath her robe as she squeezes a large, fat, ovular abdomen from a seam in her back. The eight, tough and long segmented legs crack free from her shredded shawl and sound like solid branches of a tree snapping in half. Balanced atop the array of stripy, black and yellow legs, her torso wobbles slightly as she rises on the claws of her legs. As she bellows the name of her main course, Mǎkè bows quickly to acknowledge the woman, then sprints as fast as he can to his cart. The old hag pulls aside her shawl to reveal her skinny rib cage and hairy abdomen. The demonic, human, spider hybrid gives chase, stabbing all those in her way with the sharp ends of her limbs. Mǎkè glances back as she sidesteps stalls and obstacles and he notices the rotting area around her belly button shimmering and pulsating. The Joro-Gumo shoots a net of red bloody silk at the escaping meal andMǎkè grabs a nearby mercenary and uses him as a human shield before recoiling backwards. The mercenary falls back in a fit of raging curses and attempts to free himself in a sudden panic as he sees the freakish beast approaching. The merc pulls out his jagged knife and attempts to cut through the red, gooey sparkling twine. The twine cuts through the knife like butter and in his fright he loses various fingers in his desperate attempt to pry open the sharp net ensnaring his body. The merc hears eight stamps surrounding his body as a stream of acidic drool drops with steaming thuds beside his head. The frantic merc, unable to turn his head to see his attacker feels himsel
f being lifted by two spiny, solid objects.
The merc shouts for aid in high pitched screams as he catches sight of the Joro-Gumo's face, and he wrangles in the net causing himself further injuries. The Joro-Gumo opens her mouth and a dense fog spills out in flowing plumes, and two brown hairy pincers extend from inside her mouth in heavy glooping strands of dark yellow saliva. The pincers hover over the panic-stricken man and stab into his body to inject him with a paralysing nerve toxin. The merc's face freezes into an expression of horror, with his fingers spreading wide and his hands bending like paws, only his spitting breath's present evidence he’s still alive. The Joro-Gumo strokes his head softly whilst purring into his ear, then screeches wildly as she hoses him with a white and yellow digestive enzyme from her belly button. A prolonged wheeze exits the tortured man's mouth as his curled up body begins to steam and melt. The Joro-Gumo picks him up using her extra front pincers and squeezes the ball of steaming web and meat into her mouth.Mǎkè, hiding under a long bench, dare not move as he listens to the masticating munches and gulps as the Joro-Gumo consumes her meal. With a taste for blood and with food in plentiful supply, the Joro-Gumo fires multiple nets into the crowd. The cutting edged webbed silk reduces those caught in the path of strong mesh into squirting and toppling cubes of meat.
As the Joro-Gumo looks around for her escaped meal “UncleMǎkè”. The cautious man quietly and quickly crawls under the extended cover of tables and clothing kiosks toward his cart. The Joro-Gumo strides close to his position, sniffing his scent of fear. Mǎkè, dragging a bunch of women's clothes behind him, smiles as he figures out a way to escape unseen, but he'd have to be quick. Mǎkè quickly puts on the pink and gold floral stitched Ruqun, blouse-dress, lilac Banbi,waistcoat and a phoenix crown with jewels draping in front of his face. Mǎkè feels a small ornate box in the pocket of the Ruqun and to his surprise and delight he finds a cosmetics kit inside it. Mǎkè bravely emerges from the underneath the table with his face covered in white powder and his lips messily covered in red lipstick. Mǎkè makes the mistake of cockily looking back at the Joro-Gumo and turns away quickly before picking up his pace. The Joro-Gumo looks strangely at the briskly walking woman and begins stalking the hurried stranger in great strides. Mǎkè further picks up his pace and into a full blown sprint, blowing his cover.
“You cannot hide from me Uncle Make,” smiles the Joro-Gumo advancing upon him.
“I am not Mǎkè, you have the wrong man, woman,” he says in a high-pitched voice.
The Joro-Gumo's insectoid face appears confused then suddenly screams with rage causing Mǎkè to run for his life. The Joro-Gumo shoots a long line of silk atMǎkè as he runs as fast as his feet will take him. The line of silk splats softly against his ankle sending him into a tumbling roll.Mǎkè yells in fright as he's lifted from the cobbled ground and spun around the open air of the courtyard by his one leg. With a splashing slam the Joro-Gumo sends him flying into the fountain in the centre of the marketplace. The spider-woman approaches determinedly with her claws upturning the courtyard cobbles in multiple stamping digs.Mǎkè emerges from the fountain with his cosmetic disguise dripping from his face as he throws himself over the fountain wall and onto the ground. The Joro-Gumo scurries over the fountain with deep plunging splashes in her stride as Mǎkè evades in a tangled crawl of wet clothes. Xan Li, lopping off the head of a mountainous mercenary, races to aid Mǎkè struggling to free himself from the strong silk vine. Xan Li is suddenly hailed by her Onna-Bugeisha comrades as they observe a distant crowd of undead people racing toward the courtyard from the other end of the branching lanes.
“Zui, aid Mǎkè, do something!” bellows Xan Li crossly.
“I am doing something,” says Zui making the most of the open bar.
As Zui turns his back on the world, recent companions and fellow countrymen, Xan Li scowls at his cowardice and spite whilst igniting Akio's countermeasures concealed with the cobbled brickwork. Xan Li orders the soldiers to reach a safe distance from the explosions then races to aid Mǎkè. Leaping from the wall of the fountain and onto the top of the fountain sculpture she jumps far with her Katana aimed downwards at the Joro-Gumo. The Joro-Gumo sees the attack coming from the corner of her eyes and knocks Xan Li back into a spinning free fall with a harsh thrust from a rapidly extended leg. With the Joro-Gumo distracted,Mǎkè removes his slacks and sprints away in his Mokko Fundoshi,underwear. Zui sighs in disgrace as he catches sight of Mǎkè's bare rear jiggling back and forth as he tears away leaving a trail of wet footsteps. As Mǎkè makes his escape, Zui goes unnoticed by the Joro-Gumo as he swigs back another pint of ale. All of a sudden Zui hears a shrill ear piercing scream and he turns to look at Mǎkè jumping like a madman as a tiny spider crawls down his arm and across his chest.
“Get it off me, get it off me!” screams Mǎkè.
The Joro-Gumo stamps a path of skewered corpses toward Mǎkè, adamant in its capture of its cherished meal.
“You imbecile!” shouts Zui, crushing the pot of ale in his hand.
As the Joro-Gumo obstinately approaches the shrieking pansy, Zui flips his stool into the air and chops the ends of the four wooden legs into solid steaks and kicks the flat circular seat forward. The spiked projectile rushes through the air and stabs the Joro-Gumo through the back. The horrid beast turns its head to identify its attacker and Zui necks the last of his ale before grabbing his dual ended spear. The Joro-Gumo's pincers removes the stool from her body and bouts of dark yellow blood shoots from the four circular wounds in her chest. Akio's countermeasures suddenly explode from all corners of the courtyard launching rubble and fire in all directions around the courtyard. The loud boom alerts Zui and the Joro-Gumo into action as they stagger and scurry toward each other. Zui, drunk as the season is long, staggers about using his spear to aid in his balance as he appears to have no control over his actions. Catapulting and somersaulting to avoid being captured by the rapidly discharged nets of silk, Zui twirls his spear in a 360-degree twirl and begins cutting a path through the Joro-Gumo's legs. Mǎkè, semi-naked finds himself being chased by a group of raiders hell-bent on murder as he reaches Húluóbo. Mǎkè quickly pushes a button on Húluóbo's metal backside and it springs to its feet and kicks two metal panels on the cart with its back hooves. Suddenly a low panel rises from the bottom of the cart revealing a long deep compartment. A cold mist escapes the partition containing a suit of strangely fashioned armour and it slides onto the ground with a solid clunk. Mǎkè sees over a dozen mercs dashing forward and he knows he doesn’t enough time to ready his suit. In a fit of panic he winds and cracks all the levers and keys of his inventions and in a surge of newfound strength he lifts over his cart in a mess of clattering clockwork craziness. Mǎkè heaves and pushes the heavy one piece suit onto its back, and marvels at his own handiwork.
“Do not fail me, I beg of you,” pleads Mǎkè, staring at the beautiful work of lethal art.
Mǎkè removes a key from the necklace tucked under his scruffy, drenched tunic and inserts it into the keyhole of a solid round circle in the chest armour.
A ticking sound activates from within the armour as blurry heat escapes slatted vents on its arms and legs. As the armour powers up, wisps of steam escape the pointy ears of the headgear and Mǎkè quickly backs away from the green and black stripy suit of armour. The raiders, fascinated by the mixture of weird metal objects twitching by Mǎkè's overturned stall, take one each whilst inspecting them closer. One of the raiders picks up what appears to be an iron woodpecker with a twitching neck and ankle. The woodpecker tweets a tinny sounding chirp at the raider as he wonders how many cowrie shells it will be worth when he melts it down. The mohawked bird quickly scurries up his arm and up his face before digging its claws into his cheek and repeatedly pecking him in the eye. The raider rips the bird of his face along with his cheek and it begins pecking his wrist causing him to lose his grip on the metal feathered pest. The bird scuttles up his arm and hooks onto his jaw and burrows its long, narrow beak into his e
ar.
The screaming raider falls to the ground as the metal woodpecker tunnels into his head and pecks its way out of his eyeball. The other raiders stand laughing and pointing at the fallen man, and the ridiculous and humiliating death he had suffered at the hands of the woodpecker hopping out of the man's head with a piece of brain stuck on the end of its beak. Fascinated by the rest of the clutter of animal themed trinkets, another raider picks up a heavy and large spiral cone and mimics blowing into it with his cheeks puffed out wide. The raider feels a sudden sharp grip around his neck as a large open crab claw clamps around it. The raider chokes as he attempts to remove it and his eyes roll back as the claw continues squeezing, until cutting through his neck and severing his head. The slow learning mercs, distracted by their own idiocy, are suddenly attacked by an onslaught of grinding and whirring metallic workings. A raider feels a tight force around his leg before it snaps in half at the knee. Collapsing to his back whilst clutching his broken leg, he feels multiple heavy tentacled limbs wrapping around his chest and crushing his torso. The iron Octopus leaking a trail of ink, crushes the man with a final squeeze and spray of blood as his rib bones exit his chest.
