Adult-FanFiction.org : Games

The Hunter Between	By : BurneHazard Category: +A through F > Diablo III Views: 6166 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Diablo III (3) and all content therein is the property of Blizzard Entertainment. This story is for entertainment purposes only and I make no money from writing it.

Chapter List
- 2
- 3
- 4
            Lyndon had not returned. That was the only reason she was not in a comfortable, clean, cool bed sound asleep. That was the only reason she was walking slowly through the alleys in the lower level slums. That was the only reason she was hunting. A guard had reported seeing a man fitting his description enter a tavern that did not have the best of reputations. It had sounded like something that the scoundrel would feel more at home within. Her only remaining question was why he was hours overdue. That was not like him.
            As she moved along the quiet streets, she took in Caldeum's deep night. It was chilly. Even surrounded by sunbaked stone, the chill was present. The only saving grace was that heat rose. The level they were staying on was in the middle range of hot and cold so it would be a pleasant night. Once she found Lyndon, she could enjoy it. If she found him. What little direction she had certainly did not give her much of a trail. And tracking someone through a city was vastly different than tracking them through the wilderness. The wild was easier.
            Shandra took a page from Lyndon's book however. He had told enough stories and she knew enough about the greedy nature of people to know that information could be had for coin. Unless she wished to use more time-consuming methods. A couple of tips from some street urchins and a merchant led her deeper into the start of the slums. One of the taverns was open and apparently lively. Rather than bother with the customers--looking the people over for a sign of her quarry--she went straight to the barkeep.
            Waving away the empty cup he put in front of her, she braced her good arm against the bar and leaned forward. Rubbing his hands on a stained rag, the man glanced around and leaned in as well when he saw the faint shine of the lights on the coins protected by her curled hand.
            "I'm looking for someone. About my height, middle-aged, brown hair and eyes, long mustache. Wearing a long brown leather coat."
            Her fingers tapped lightly over the coins as she watched the man. Finally, she moved her hand away so he could take a few of the coins. He did so only to have her hand fall to stop him from taking the rest still half-cupped under her palm. She glared right into his eyes and tilted her head so the mask covering her face glared as well.
            "He's a scoundrel with women."
            "Yeah, seen 'im. Flirtin' with my wenches. Left with a couple a friends they said."
            Turning her head slightly, she considered. "Friends. Man and woman?"
            The tender's eyes fell to the new coin on the bar. Shaking his head, he grunted.
            "Nope. Two men. Friends of yours?"
            "Depends, what did they look like?"
            She let him take the smaller coins, relaxing her hand. He gathered them up, glancing to the last coin on the bar. That one he left for the moment although it was clear he wanted it as well.
            "Kinda like you. Taller, dangerous. Smelled a helluva lot worse. Armed too, but with blades and clubs. Armor not so fancy."
            Another coin was slowly placed on the bar near the other as she glared at the tender. She asked nothing else but the man's tongue was clearly loosened as he looked back at her. His eyes swept the bar before he ducked even closer, voice lowering.
            "Look, if yer a bounty hunter, this one ain't a hunt you wanna get tangled up in. The guys that he left with are the sort I've seen before. Bruisers that work for a guild. Guilds'r bad news ta get on the wrong side of."
            "I'm aware. How long ago did they leave?"
            "Hour or so."
            "They mention where they were going?"
            The tender looked toward the front doors for a moment before shaking his head. "No. But doubt they went that far. Couple streets down, near a sewer hole, there's a place known for accidents. Lotsa stuff gets through that old grate."
            "I'm sure," she said as she straightened.
            A calloused hand swept up the coins on the bar as he scrubbed the spot with his rag. Turning, she headed for the door without paying the crowd a second glance. Eyes did follow her with a sensation of something crawling against the back of her neck. Choosing to ignore it, she left the tavern to return to the night. The sensation faded then was gone the moment she was a step away from the door.
            Moving along the street, the hunter paused to look around. The path opened to the right and remained open for about two hundred feet before buildings resumed lining that side of the stone. Heading for the break in buildings, she looked over the edge. Another street below with buildings around it. This part of the city followed the natural cliff-face more than the constructed areas. Poorer people could not afford the price of building streets and breaking rock to form new ground.
            Calculating the distance, she boosted herself over the crude brick-wood railing meant more to warn of a drop than to prevent it. Looking down, she placed one foot near the edge then slowly pivoted and dropped. The landing jolted her weakened body sharply enough to make her gasp. It hurt but the pain itself was gone as suddenly as he had come. Straightening, Shandra rose from her crouch to cross the roof she had landed on.
            It was easier dropping down to the street since she knew what to expect. And this street was far worse than the one just above. Stone was broken, trash was visible strewn about in broken pots and vessels. Pieces of carts and other debris were left to rot in corners, shoved out of the way of the main traffic. The smell that came to her beneath her mask made her nose wrinkle and the healing skin burn slightly from the motion.
            Fewer people were out. Those who were kept close to doorways or walls. These were the street-wise sorts who knew to keep their backs to the wall and eyes on everything else. They watched her unless she turned her attention toward them. Most were wise enough to turn away and remain turned away. Her own attention was moving around as she listened and focused on the strange sense of pressure against her chest and shoulder.
            After a few blocks with the stench increasing, she came upon a very rusty grate set into an actual cobble-stone area of the ground. Many of the bars were broken, twisted downward with only a couple rising up in silent threat. Regarding it, she paused to look at the buildings. Oddly, no one was nearby. In fact, as she turned to study them, the buildings were conspicuously shuttered despite the still-cool air available.
            Then she heard it. A grunt that should not have been there. Bending her knees, she slid into a crouch and moved toward the sound. The first few steps made her bad leg burn in protest and pulled at the scarred skin. It only took Shandra a moment to adapt to the differences as she moved like a shadow along the wall and into the buildings. More grunts. And as she moved, she started to hear the sound of flesh striking flesh.
            Coming to the mouth of a narrow alley, she narrowed her eyes. It took her a few moments before her vision could pierce the shadow to bring shapes into view. A lot of junk lined the alley's mouth but it widened a little more after a few steps. The source of the sound was revealed by a dim light at the far end. Moving forward, she picked out distinct silhouettes between her and the illumination. Three of them. One man on his knees, arms held by the other two standing to either side. They were holding him up for another man to hit.
            One hand crept down to grasp the crossbow folded in place against her thigh. Drawing it free quietly, the hunter used her burned hand to help it unfold slowly rather than make a sound. The source of light was a little to one side of the thugs, letting her see the front of the man using the kneeling one for a punching bag. And their kneeling victim was wearing a familiar coat. The light caught on the particular design of the armor over his shoulders to tell her precisely who the unlucky man was.
            As the man facing the three straightened to draw his arm back again, the dim light of the poor lantern off to the side shimmered off something on his fist. It hardly took a genius to know the thug had metal there. That snapped something inside faster than anything she had previously experienced. The hunter's hand came up so fast all she was aware of was the belated kick in her palm as the quarrel flew. By that time, it had already buried itself deep into the thug's chest on the inside of his shoulder.
            He flew backward even as her arm flew up to strike her own shoulder from the force. The kick also rendered her hand numb for a split second. It was enough for her to lose her grip on the crossbow. It fell from her grasp. Letting it go, she drew the other crossbow with her bad hand. Need for stealth abated, she snapped it into place and loosed another arrow straight into the side of the thug on her right. It struck him between his lower ribs since her aim was still off, but it buried itself deep. The jolt of pain through healing wounds made her eyes flare with anger.
            The other thug was just beginning to react when she twisted her body to drive her good fist straight into his face. Cartilage and bone crunched satisfyingly as the sharp protrusions over her armored knuckles broke flesh. Blood splattered as the thug went down hard. Without the support of his two captors, Lyndon started to fall. Her arm dropped as she fired another bolt point-blank into mister broken-nose's body. It drove into his side, striking his hipbone and giving him something other than his face to keep him occupied.
            Hooking the crossbow to her belt where she could grab it quickly, the hunter leaned down to pull the sagging figure of the scoundrel up. When she did, he made a pained sound. His nearly dead-weight fell forward over her arm and forced her to adjust her hold as she tried to cushion him from collapsing completely. One thing she did not expect was the sound he made sending a nearly-forgotten jolt straight through her body. It electrified her senses and caused her injuries to throb in an unfamiliar way. Unconsciously, her arm tightened across his torso and apparently pressed against one of the larger injuries as he moaned in pain.
            Shandra gasped and fell to one knee at the power making her entire body tingle and throb. For that instant, she lost herself and forgot where she was really at. In that moment, she was in the smoldering depths of a hell-bound crater with the agonized music of tormented giants moaning around her. The same sensation that she had been lost within there again claimed her as she drew at it. Her injuries burned anew only to begin tingling before she could even sense the pain she had been nearly without for several days.
            Blood on her tongue snapped her back to the present. Eyes opening, she went rigid as she realized she had grabbed Lyndon's hair and wrenched his head back to kiss his split lips and bleeding mouth. It was his blood on her tongue, his pained moans filling her ears. Feeble struggles against her body clued her in that she was still kneeling but had drawn him fully against her armored form. All of it was taken in before her heart could skip a beat.
            Tearing herself back and away from the kiss, she turned her head away from the scoundrel. Refusing to look at him or even acknowledge the fact he sagged toward her of his own volition, she fixed her attention on the three that had been beating him bloody. One would not rise again thanks to the black quarrel that had done enough damage to be lethal. The other with the black bolt protruding from his shoulder was still where he fell, trying to break the feathered shaft off. The one with the broken nose was too wrapped up in trying to breathe around his own blood and work on the arrow imbedded in his hip to try getting away.
            "...my hero," a distorted voice rose from near her chest.
            Glancing down at the scoundrel, she rolled her eyes out of habit. But Lyndon was already pulling himself together again and supporting a little more of his own weight. The golden mask rested face-down near his knees. She chose to leave it there for the moment.
            "Can you stand, Lyndon?"
            "C'n try," he mumbled.
            Although he did try, the best he could do was sit up on his own and move to lean against one of the alley walls. It was good enough for her. Free to use her hands again, she rose and turned toward the one that had been making a mess of the scoundrel's face. Stepping toward the thug, she leaned down to run her fingers along her calf. The dagger hidden within the boot was drawn free to fit easily in her hand. Gripping it with a dark sense of rising pleasure, she stalked toward the fallen man.
            The hunter's bad hand reached out, grabbing the thug's hair and yanking his head backward. He thrashed but a hard knee shoved against his stomach kept him down and she kept a firm grasp on his hair as the poor light revealed his face. Leaning in, she brought the dagger up to press the blade against his throat. It made him go still almost instantly. Staring into the wide eyes, she found herself grinning.
            "You..." Shandra breathed. "...Thieves Guild?"
            "Yes," he gasped against the blade, trying to avoid being cut.
            Very slowly, she slid the edge of the blade down along the bared throat as if merely giving him a shave. There was a sound from him however as the last few centimeters raised a broad red swipe when she added pressure to the blade.
            "What claim do you have on him?" she asked.
            The thug tried hard not to swallow as the dagger was pressing so hard against his throat it would mean a serious problem. "No one...crosses the Thieves Guild..."
            "Apparently...I do," the hunter said. "And I will continue so long as your guild keeps damaging what is mine."
            "Do you realize what you're doing?"
            "I know better than you. Now, I'm going to give you a choice," she continued as she drew her blade back up under his jaw. "You can play messenger to your guild for me and live. Or...I can do to you what I am going to do to that one there."
            The tip of the blade moved to indicate the man with the bloody face and her quarrel lodged in his hip. He was still conscious but too preoccupied to try getting away. The thug looked toward his partner then back to the woman. "I'm dead if I do that."
            "There are things far worse than death."
            Shandra brought the dagger back toward the thug's face. He had no time to react as the blade flashed. Blood spurted as she opened a wide line along one side of his nose. Crying out, he jerked his head back. Her knee drove hard into his sternum, slamming him down against the ground and winding him. His arms jerked and metal rang on stone. It reminded her of Lyndon's face.
            "And on second thought..."
            Her boot came down on the man's arm hard, catching his wrist beneath the slight arch of her foot. Sinking down as he choked on a cough, she lowered her free hand. Her fingers curled around his clenching palm and forced his fingers open. With exaggerated care, she slid the iron knuckles off his fingers and brought it up between them. Looking at the bloody device, she tilted her head to one side before looking back to the man.
            "...I think...I prefer blood for blood."
            Spitting that very blood at her, he brought his other arm up to strike at the hunter. Callously, she swatted his blow away. The sharp edges of metal wings along her arm sliced through his thin leather and cloth to cut flesh. He made a strangled sound.
            Bringing the dagger up, she turned it to use the butt of the grip and slam it into the black quarrel, snapping the feathered shaft off. The jolt made the barbed head rip deeper into his chest, tearing at his lung and forcing a scream from him. The sound...made her shiver and catch a sharp breath of her own as her eyes closed. It was...delicious. Only partially aware of her next action, she reveled in the sounds that became the most important things in the world to her. Especially his screams as she moved her heel to his hand to crush every bone in it.
            "Shandra!"
            The call of her name snapped her attention back to the moment. Turning her head, she looked toward the only one who could have used it. Lyndon was holding his ribs and stomach tightly with one arm, the other was on the ground and he was slumping toward her. The mess of his face made her rage flare again. Without actual thought, she brought the dagger up, spinning it in hand, and down, plunging it into her prey's waist. Her arm jolted as the hilt struck something solid and brought another scream from him.
            "Shandra! Stop!" Lyndon shouted again as best as he could.
            "Why?" she snarled, twisting the blade and jerking it free. "Why should I?"
            He was quiet for a moment and she turned her attention back to her victim. The bloodied blade came up as she lightly traced it along his cheek. It left a trail behind but she was careful not to part the flesh yet. She was tracing the lines of where she was going to start cutting.
            "Because...this isn't you," a quiet voice answered.
            It made her pause and blink. Rather than look back to the scoundrel, the hunter regarded her prey. She could still taste it. That pain, the agony, the fear...it was all there. It was beneath her and ripe for the taking. A second source of pain and fear was off to the side behind her, telling her precisely where the living thug was at. He had not moved, he was scared and in pain. Power flooded into her and made her breath come faster with the sheer rush.
            "Are you so sure of that, Lyndon?" she asked as she grabbed the man's face with her free hand, holding him still to position the dagger.
            "Yes! Shandra, please..."
            Turning her head, she looked at him. He was closer, moving on one hand and his knees.
            "There's...nothing more...I'd like than what...you're going to do. But...you're not like this. You're not like them."
            His words were slurred and rough but she could still understand him. After figuring out what all variety of demons were able to say, a beaten face was child's play. Watching him move both fueled her rage and made something inside her hurt. Looking back to her prey--no, her victim, she growled. A hand fell onto her arm. Weight pushed down at it but she did not jerk away because he was dragging himself closer.
            "You're not a demon, Shandra," Lyndon mumbled.
            That was as good as a splash of cold water right in her face. Tensing, she looked back to him. Only then did it seem her thoughts returned. It did not wash away the dark lust but it made it more controllable.
            "Let it go, please," he asked as he settled near her, legs bent to one side and most of his weight on her side and the thief she was pinning down.
            "What purpose is a promise if the threat is not followed through?"
            Before Lyndon could answer her, the man beneath her bucked upward. It was sudden enough to rock her and send the scoundrel falling backward with a pained cry. Lifting her heel, she slammed it back down onto the broken hand to grind against it. Several more snaps and pops came along with another scream. This time, it was not pleasing. It pissed her off further.
            "Shut up!"
            She ripped the dagger free to drive it back into his chest, down between his ribs to one side of his breastbone. It was long enough to pierce his heart. Jerking it free, she rose from her position to kneel over him on one knee. Leaning in, she snarled as she glared into the man's eyes. He only wheezed a liquid-filled laugh as his life bleed out.
            "This...isn't over. Th-the rest...of the Thieves...Guild...will...find...you..."(1)
            Ignoring the last words, Shandra slashed her blade across his throat. Rising before the first spurt of blood came from the new wound, she stepped off the thief. Keeping the dagger in hand, she leaned down to retrieve the mask and fallen crossbow in the other hand. Securing them, she slid her free arm under Lyndon's body to help him get up. The sound he made gave a strangely familiar tingle deep in her body. Shaking her head at herself, she looked to the remaining thug.
            As she supported Lyndon against her side, she studied the last one. Considering him even though her temper ran hot, she sighed. Sliding her arm around Lyndon's waist, she switched hands to tuck the bloody dagger in her belt. It would be too much a pain to clean the sheath out later to put it there. It left her hand free to catch his arm where it rested across the backs of her shoulders since her armor did not permit it to go over them.
            "You have a choice. Messenger or corpse?"
            Swallowing, the thug shifted a little beneath the glare he felt behind the mask. "What message?"
            The hunter merely released Lyndon's arm to reach down to her belt and draw a small object from a pouch there. A sharp snap of her wrist sent the orb flying into the thug's lap while the small pin remained in her fingers. Knees bending, she vaulted away, taking Lyndon with her. His added weight off balanced her so the landing was hard but they stayed on their feet. Without missing a beat, she moved on as the scoundrel tried to walk with her. Behind, the thug's scream was cut off by a small explosion that sent dust and debris showering everywhere.

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`
Author's Note:
            Sorry about the lateness of this update--a lot of shit's been hitting the fan both professionally and personally. It may be a little while before I'm able to update again so please enjoy and let me know what you think so far. As in the last story, (1) depicts a line from the game.
- 2
- 3
- 4
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

The Hunter Between