Brothers Lost

Moe stood there in silence. Even after all the pain he had known, all the death and suffering he had seen, he was still paralyzed by the grizzly scene before him. Bodies lay strewn about like carelessly discarded toys, all over the ground, hanging from the street lamps, even one impaled on the flagpole. There was blood everywhere, it seemed as if there was entire river of it running down the street into the drain. And the smell, the smell of torn bodies, the fresh meat, the warm blood.

"NO!", Moe returned to his senses, pushing back that more primal part of himself. The part that he left behind long ago. It was then the reality sank in, the scene before him was no hellish nightmare. He dropped his gear bag and broke into a sprint. Passing those on the street who wew obvousouly dead and burst though the doors of the station house, tearing on door completely from its hinges in the process. He saw a severed arm clutching a pike and paused with dread filling his heart to look closer. An Celtic cross adorned the ring on the forefinger.

"Pagnelli, No, this cant be happening" The realization then hit him, these were no strangers that lay before him this time. The death was not nameless. It had a face, even more it had memories. Theses were the men he called family and now they lay dead before him. Anger welled upon inside of him looking at the bodies. They were not killed by any weapon he knew of. These men appeared to have been torn apart, even partially eaten it seemed to him. He had seen this before but it could not be. They would not have came this far, he was of little concenquence to them now, but if it was he knew his course would lead him back to.....

A sound caught his attention, barely louder than a feather landing on cotton, had this been yesterday the sound may have went completely unnoticed. But the anger that was welling up in him had forced him back into that more primal state and to his ear it sounded like thunder. He ran upstairs taking seven or eight steps at a stride. Rounded the corner at the top and burst through the door to Caps office. Breathing hard with adrenaline coursing through his veins he stood in the doorway, muscles tensed ready to strike down the monster who had done all this. He saw before him Cap, well at least his head, placed like some sick trophy on his command trumpet, and in the corner...

"Marcus!!!" He rushed over to his friend.

" Moe, you have, have to leave, leave now" He said as he began to cough violently, blood forming a grotesque red mist as he did so.

"They were asking about you, they know you are here"

"Marcus, where is everyone else?"

"All dead, or wishing they were, you have to go now, it, it is , it is not....."

Marcus' head rolled to the side he eyes glassed over and he let go of his last breath. Moe reached up and closed his eyes. He stood up walked out side. He heard the sirens coming round the corner, saw the officers draw their weapons , it was all so surreal now.

"PUT YOUR HANDS UP!" He heard one of the officers say.

"Wait! My work here, my name is..."

"PUT YOUR HANDS UP NOW!"

"No you don't understand" Moe said. "Inside they are all dead some one..."

He felt the bullet rip into his shoulder, spinning him around. He dropped to one knee.

"FACE DOWN ON THE GROUND NOW ...OGRE!"

That word, the generalization of a race of people that was not truly his own sparked a emotion within him. These people would not be reasoned with, looking at the scene they must believe that he had done this act, an ogre had killed humans. Even if he did comply he would be dead before night was over. He looked one last time at the station house he had called home, and with a feral growl, and bullets whizzing past him, ran away as he had so many times before.