The blade Damian held was a world away from his old one. The grip was made from grooved carbon fibre, and it felt nicely weighted in his hands. The metal showed no signs of rust, and the blade itself had been sharpened to a keen edge. He figured that if he were to ambush a rat with this, it would likely take it a few moments for it to even realise it had been cut in two.

“Kill somethin’ for ya, huh…?” he murmured to himself, gazing at his misty reflection – or lack thereof – in the gleaming steel.

“That’s my condition. Consider it a test of your abilities,” Arlette responded, puffing on her pink cigarette as she led the convoy down a side street.

Damian nodded slowly. Suspicious as this whole situation was, it just seemed like too good of an offer to give up. Free blood feedings provided by the government? And all he had to do was kill something? It was almost a dream come true.

“Alright. I’ll bite,” he finally answered, sliding the machete into the sheath on his back.

The Succubus chuckled.

“Oh, you’ll be doing much more than biting.”

“Whaddya want me to kill, anyway?”

“One of Gaia’s native creatures that had been smuggled onto Earth by an exotic goods dealer. It was lost in transit, and has since caused a lot of damage to corporate property.”

With a sigh, she rolled down the window and flicked her cigarette butt out into the night.

“Corps want it dealt with, but I have no small amount of Gaian ambassadors crawling up my ass about exactly how. Seeing as it’s considered endangered whilst on Earth soil, if it comes to harm at the hands of any individuals at BEDLAM, we’re going to suffer for it. The fae want it sedated and captured, but I don’t have that kind of time or patience.”

She looked at the vampire through the mirror.

“So, I want you to kill it. This thing will die at the hands of a necrophage, ergo not a legal person, ergo not a BEDLAM agent, ergo no laws get broken and the job gets done.”

“Ya still haven’t told me what it is,” Damian stated impatiently, drumming his fingernails against the car’s armrests.

“An ogre. I don’t know what subspecies, and honestly I don’t care. I just want it dead so I can move on to dealing with more pressing issues.”

Opening the glove compartment with a flick of a switch, she pulled out a tiny device and handed it back to Damian. It looked like some kind of advanced earpiece.

“I’ll keep in touch with you through our comms system. It’s a closed channel, so don’t worry about anybody listening in case things go poorly.”

With those encouraging words on his mind, Damian raised the device to his ear and gently pushed it in. Out of questions and feeling strangely nervous, he deigned to sit back on the crinkly plastic and stare out the window as the BEDLAM convoy made its way through the city.

Scorched Sands proper was an assault on the senses, and he wasn’t sure whether that was a good or a bad thing. All around him, bright colours flashed and sparked as elaborate advertisements were projected from the sides of buildings and the undercarriages of corporate aircraft, filling the air with jingles and slogans that mixed jarringly with the drone of traffic and the hubbub of city life. Even at this time of night, the city streets were packed with all sorts of people, be they humans, demons or even the odd fae. After a while, the vampire found himself gawking with his nose pressed up against the glass, fascinated by the world he never had the courage to enter.

But before long, Arlette directed the convoy out of the main city streets and down towards one of Scorched Sands’ more industrial sectors, where the air was thick with smog from the countless manufacturing plants all along the skyline.

“A lovely sight. Apparently, the government just sat down one day and said ‘fuck the Mojave National Preserve’,” Arlette commented, noticing the vampire’s intent stares.

“What’s that?” he asked, raising a quizzical eyebrow.

“It’s an eyesore now, is what it is. Anyway, we’re nearly there. This particular district is owned by the Titalitech Conglomerate, or one of their child companies, anyway. These warehouses are each packed full of all kinds of industrial goods used in the construction sectors. And it’s in one of these warehouses that your quarry has made its home.”

Before long, she brought the car to a stop outside one of the district’s larger buildings. Unlike the rest of the grey, uniform warehouse, this one looked to be a mess. The concrete out front had been cracked, and the loading bay doors had been bashed in by no small amount of force. Worse still, bloodstains littered the ground, looking as though something had been forcefully dragged inside whilst bleeding heavily. The entire area had been cordoned off with tape, and as Arlette stepped outside, she was immediately surrounded by her agents. The clamoured and questioned the Succubus, but she merely waved them away as she opened the door for Damian.

“Showtime. Be sure not to disappoint, or you’ll be a pile of ash by tomorrow night,” she stated encouragingly, taking a step back to allow him out of the vehicle.

Easing himself out into the night, Damian gazed around at the cordoned-off loading yard, growing uneasy at the sight of the craters left in the concrete. Only something big could have created them.

All around him, the various BEDLAM agents murmured to one another and kept their guns trained on the vampire, clearly uncomfortable at the idea of him taking care of the ogre. But Arlette’s word must be law, as none of them dared to speak out.

Kneeling down, he pressed his hand to one of the crusted bloodstains on the ground. It was a few days old, and going by the faint smell, it belonged to an animal of some kind. In fact, most of the spilled blood seemed to belong to various vermin and house pets, save for the drag marks, which were definitely left by a human.

Biting his lip, Damian pulled his machete out and crept up to the destroyed doorway of the house. Hot, stagnant air wafted from the inside, and it stank worse than even the sewers on a hot summer day. Reaching over to the dented loading bay doors, he tapped the blade against the corrugated metal, listening as it echoed throughout the gloomy warehouse.

“I take it you have a plan?” Arlette spoke through the earpiece, startling him.

Baring his teeth, Damian placed his finger against the device.

“Couldn’t ya have gotten some of your lackeys to lock the place down proper first?” he whispered, furrowing his brow.

“I told you, I tire of meddling with all the diplomacy around this issue. The longer we spend talking about this thing, the more chances it has to cause more damage.”

Holding his breath, the vampire crept into the warehouse. Away from the glaring streetlamps outside, his natural dark vision slowly adjusted, allowing him to take stock of the building’s interior. It was filled with high metal shelves, each packed with tools, crates and various other construction materials. The stench only grew worse, and he could hear heavy breathing coming from deeper in.

“I had a great uncle, you know. He told me something that has always stuck with me. ‘With some folks, you can try to talk to them until you’re blue in the face…”

Damian tightened his grip on the machete.

“’… but sometimes the only answer people will understand is that of incredible violence.’”

He smiled humourlessly.

“Khah… sounds like quite the guy…”

Following the bloody trails on the ground, Damian trekked deeper into the storage facility. Leaving footprints in the crusted blood, he noticed that a lot of the shelves had been badly damaged or knocked over, scattering their contents all over the floor. Taking a tentative step over a pile of damaged power drills, he suddenly froze in place as a loud, rumbling snore tore through the warehouse.

“Think I found him…” he whispered, stooping low.

“Then get to it already.”

In the middle of the warehouse, amidst a nest built from broken shelf struts, assorted garbage and the mangled corpses of various unfortunate Scorched Sands pets and citizens, a huge grey shape peacefully slumbered, rising and falling in time to its sonorous snores.

“Rise’n’shine, ya fat bastard…” he hissed creeping closer to the sleeping ogre as her readied his machete.

A plan had formed in his head. While the beast slept, he could be in close and slice its throat open from one malformed ear to the other.

It was just a shame that he wasn’t paying attention where he was putting his feet.

With one overconfident step, Damian put a bare foot straight into a pile of broken glass, cracking them further. The noise wasn’t terribly loud, but with how close he was to his prey, the beast woke up with a startled snort.

“Oh shit…”

“What did you do?”

“Uh… nothin’ much…” Damian replied, taking a bloodied step back as the ogre rose from its nest.

It was huge; much bigger than he had anticipated. Stooped as its posture was, the beast still stood at over three times the vampire’s height. As it turned its piggy eyes onto the intruder in its midst, the grey-green behemoth opened a tusked maw and growled threating, blasting Damian with its hot, fetid breath. Its arms were thick with muscle and covered in spiked, bony growths, and while its gut wobbled with every step it took towards him, he didn’t doubt the ogre could obliterate his skeleton with a single swing of its fist.

“Khakhakha… Big fucker, ain’tcha…?” Damian laughed, grinning more out of fear than confidence.

The ogre blinked a couple of times, before its face twisted with rage. With a mighty roar, it raised both fists and brought them down upon where the vampire was standing.

“SHIT!”

He kicked off the ground and threw himself clear of the beast’s savage swing, just narrowly avoiding chunks of flying concrete as its raw strength obliterated the floor. It howled with rage, making the warehouse’s stench even worse.

Holding a hand to his nose, Damian readied himself, machete in hand.

"Bring it on, you sweaty sack'a shit!" he barked, growing angrier as his cold blood began to heat up.

He stormed towards the ogre, keeping his body low as he scraped the machete along the floor behind him. The monster thundered towards him in kind, belligerently swinging its arms like greasy wrecking balls. Stepped aside its clumsy blows, Damian clutched his weapon in both hands and swung it with all his might. It clashed off one of the horned growths before cutting deep into the ogre's skin, splattering dark blood all over the place. The beast howled in pain, and before he could react, it lashed out with an elephantine foot, catching him directly in the ribs.

The force of the kick was enough to launch Damian right across the warehouse, smashing him against one of the shelves and toppling it to the floor.

"Thank goodness you're a necrophage. One blow from that thing would kill a mortal man." Arlette spoke unhelpfully as he scrambled to his feet.

His ribs hurt like all Hell, but miraculously, were not broken. He had little time to ponder this fact, however, as a sudden bellow from across the floor alerted him to the ogre's charge. He dove out of the way, rolling painfully across a collection of scattered wrenches and leaping back to his feet, bloodstained machete raised and hungering for more.

"Gonna hafta do better than that, fatass!" he yelled, rushing back into the fray as the ogre struggled to right itself.

Kicking off the toppled shelf, the vampire raked the blade across it's chest, before sidestepping another devastating punch and driving it deep into the beast's thigh.

"Khah! How's that, bitch?!" he cackled, twisting the weapon as a surge of blood splattered all over his face.

It responded with a grievous roar, grabbing the vampire in one meaty fist and hurling him across the warehouse. Damian's brief flight was cut short by him slamming against the floor hard, whereupon his machete was knocked loose from his hand. He kept going, however, bowling into the ogre's foul-smelling nest with a monumental crash.

"Agh! Fuck!" he cried as a length of discarded animal bone pierced his back.

"Keep it up, Damian. Remember what I said."

"I know, I know, just shut up already!"

The ogre had already recuperated and was charging once more, blood streaking its leg red. Biting his lip, Damian force himself to his feet, eyes locked on the machete lying between him and his target. The thundering of the ogre's footsteps was enough to rattle his bones, but keeping himself focused, he snatched the machete off the floor and dropped as low as he could, aiming to slide beneath the beasts legs. As his filthy jeans scraped against the rough concrete, he was suddenly struck by a devilish idea as he spotted an opportunity swinging before him. He held his breath and swung the machete in an upwards arc.

The blade found purchase, slicing through skin, gland and blood vessel with ease. Drenched in stinking sanguine hues, Damian broke into a roll and halted himself right as he was deafened by an almighty, anguished wail. It was enough to rattle the glass in the windows, and for a moment, it felt as though the earth was shaking.

"Damian? What did you do?" asked Arlette urgently, her voice rising over the panicked chattering of her fellow agents.

Grinning like a man possessed, he rose to his feet and ran his hand across the blood covering his blade. Across the way, the ogre was struggling to its feet, one meaty hand clamped between his blood-drenched legs.

"First rule of scrappin', ain't it? Go for the balls!" he laughed, twirling the machete and splattering blood all over the place.

Something was amiss, however. The beast had climbed back to its feet, and its fists were clenched with sheer, unbridled rage. Howling and roaring, it began swinging its arms indiscriminately, smashing shelves and walls, and scattering both tools and chunks of concrete everywhere. Ducking and diving to avoid the deadly rain, Damian was suddenly caught by a vicious backhanded strike, slamming him clean into one of the shelves by the front wall. Before he could hope to right himself, however, the ogre followed up with a brutal full-body slam.

The wall didn't stand a chance.

In a hail of bent metal, broken concrete and industrial tools, both Damian and his monstrous opponent were blown out into the open air, completely destroying the warehouse's front wall and caving in a large portion of its roof. Impacting hard against the concrete loading, the vampire cried out in pain. A large amount of his own blackened blood forced its way out of his throat, splattering all over his front. Gunshots rang out from the crowd of agents as the ogre continued its blind rampage outside.

"Damian. Get up." Arlette commanded, sounding unusually calm despite the ensuing chaos.

"I- I'm fuckin' t- tryin'!" he spluttered, heaving a large section of concrete off his legs.

He could feel his bones grinding and his blood pouring from his wounds, but the vampire was given no time to wallow in his pain. Grabbing his battle-damaged machete, he rushed after the ogre as it continued its rampage towards the BEDLAM agents. They were panicking and firing their weapons, save for Arlette, who merely stood before her car with her arms folded, watching fearlessly as the beast thundered towards her.

“Hey! Hey! I’m over here, ya fuckin’ eunuch!” Damian screeched, running after it as fast as his aching legs would carry him.

Leaping high into the air, he gripped his machete in both hands and whirled around, getting as much spin as possible before he made to cleave it deep into the ogre’s shoulder. The blade found purchase, causing the beast the howl in pain, but Damian’s grin quickly became a look of horror as the damaged machete suddenly cracked and broke. As the blade remained lodged in its arm, the vampire crashed into its back and toppled to the ground.

“AGH! FUCK!” he cried, wincing as his wounded back was struck off the cracked ground, splashing his black blood into the growing puddles of dark red.

Gnashing its tusks and grunting angrily, the ogre turned quickly and grabbed the vampire’s leg.

“Get it together, Damian. You’re disappointing me here.” Arlette sighed, caring not for the peril he was in.

“SHUT THE FUCK UP, MCARVA~!” Damian roared, desperately scraping at its hand with his sharp nails.

Despite the raking wounds he left, the ogre dragged him across the loading yard before it swung him over its shoulder like a ragdoll. Letting him fly, Damian hurtled into the wreckage of the warehouse wall, shrieking in pain as a bent shelf bracket pierced through his side and out his stomach.

“GAAAAAH~! FUCK~!”

It hurt so bad. He had only felt pain like it a few times before, but with the adrenaline boiling his blood and the tenseness of the situation, every sensation in his body felt intensified a hundredfold.

“Get up. You’re not done yet.”

“A- And ya ain’t fuckin’ helpin’!”

Gritting his teeth, he managed to pull the twisted bracket free with a sickening pop, but he could already feel his vision beginning to swim. He was losing blood fast. He needed to feed, but fangs or nails were nowhere near sharp enough to pierce the ogre’s thickened hide.

“You’re not in a position to complain, Damian. You’re here to prove to me that you’re a beast. So ignore the pain and be a beast.”

Staggering over to the mangled remains of one of the storage shelves, Damian fell to his knees, desperately scrambling amongst the damaged industrial tools for something he could use to defend himself. Behind him, the booming footsteps of the ogre only grew louder. Its wounds had slowed it down, but it still exuded the kind of killing intent that made the hairs at the back of his neck stand up.

“Remember what I said. When the time for talking is over…”

Pulled away a slab of broken wall, his eyes widened as he gripped the handles of what might have very well been a godsent. It was dented and damaged, but it was just the thing he needed in his time of need.

“Incredible fuckin’ violence…!”

Miraculously, the fuel tank was full. Grabbing the pullcord, he violently jerk it. The engine sputtered, but did not start.

“Come on…”

Again, he pulled it. It rumbled louder this time, but still did nothing.

“Come on…!”

It had to start. It had to, or he was dead.

“COME ON YOU PIECE’A SHIT~!”

With one last mighty rip of the pullcord, the engine thundered to life like the roar of a mighty beast. Behind him, the ogre clasped its hands and swung them downwards like a sledgehammer.

“EAT IT YOU GREASY FUCK~!”

The flesh of the ogre’s clenched fists were no match for the whirling teeth of a Titalitech Industrial Multi-Purpose Chainsaw. They tore through flesh and bone with ease, shearing the beast’s fingers and slicing its right hand clean off. Doused by a storm of steaming-hot blood, Damian opened his mouth wide and swallowed what he could, sticking his black tongue out as his heartbeat quickened. His wounds sealed, his breathing sped up and as his vision began to blur and redden, he turned quickly on his heel and swung the chainsaw around himself like a madman. The ogre tried desperately to defend itself with its remaining hand, but like a knife through butter, the vampire messily sawed through it. He could hear the BEDLAM agents crying out in horror as he tore the ogre apart, but Damian was far from done.

He was mad. He was excited. And most importantly, he was starving.

“KHAKHAKHAKHAKHAKHAKHA~!” he tittered, never once letting off the tool’s trigger.

He sawed through the ogre’s lower leg, felling it like a greasy tree. Leaping atop the beast’s chest, Damian drowned out its dying wails with yet more maniacal laughter.

The vampire grinned and thrust the blade into the centre of its chest, his smile only growing more deranged as he felt the carbide teeth chew through its ribcage. The ogre thrashed and struggled, but swiftly fell silent as Damian brutally slashed the weapon upwards, splitting its head open like a blood-filled melon. The strain was far too much for the chainsaw, as the chain itself snapped and the blade broke, but he barely even seemed to notice. Tossing the spent saw aside, he got to his knees and plunged both hands deep into the ogre’s chest cavity. He pulled it apart before grabbing hold of his prize; its massive, still beating heart.

“’Bout fuckin’ time…!”

Without a shred of hesitation, Damian sunk his teeth deep into the hot flesh of the ogre’s heart, bloodshot eyes rolling back with blood as his throat was filled with more fluid than he could swallow. It gushed from the corners of his mouth and splattered all over his front, but the vampire just drank and drank and drank. The taste was nothing special, but he was good and drunk by that stage. His intoxicated feast only ended once a pair of BEDLAM agents grabbed his arms and pulled him off the mutilated ogre.

Belching loudly, he struggled and thrashed as they dragged the vampire back towards Arlette.

“L- Lemme go… Lemme go, you fucks!” Damian slurred, gasping for breath as half-coagulated blood dribbled down his chin.

They unceremoniously dumped him on the ground before they backed off quickly, disgusted by the stench wafting off the delirious necrophage. He just lay there, his whole world spinning around him. The click-clack of Arlette’s shoes resounded in his ears, followed her slow claps as she stepped into his field of view.

“I had my doubts. I have them no longer,” the Succubus stated, folding her arms.

He gave her a redden grin.

“Guh… Did I do good…?” he gasped, feeling his whole body tingle.

She nodded.

“You did. Welcome to the Bureau, Unit One. Tranq him.”

“Wh- What?!”

Damian’s question went unanswered, however, as a BEDLAM agent suddenly stepped forward and produced a pistol. His eyes went wide and he tried to scramble away, but before he could move an inch, the agent pulled the trigger. He felt a flash of pain, before everything went dark.