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Rock The Cradle	By : xDhampirx Category: +S to Z > Vampire Hunter D Views: 2273 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Vampire Hunter D, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Rock The Cradle
- 2-Job Assignment
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- 2
The sound of a church bell chimed in the early morning air, signaling the start of the day. It had only been a few hours since the sun peeked over the horizon, but the heat of the day was already almost stifling. Clouds of sand swirled over the desolate road that lead to a small town surrounded by large walls. Most towns on the Frontier had adopted this line of defense from the creatures that plagued the night, flesh eating mist clouds and shape shifting beasts mainly inhabited this region.
In the distance, the sound of a steam powered tractor could be heard making it's way up the dusty road. White steam billowed from the smoke stack as the engine chugged, struggling to pull a loaded down trailer behind it. In the driver's seat sat an aged farmer, even though his wide straw had shielded him from the blazing sun above, his brow was wet with sweat.

His hands held the wheel steady as he guided the machine towards a large holding pen out in one of the town's many crop fields. The bellowing of beasts could be heard as he approached, they knew it was feeding time. As the tractor came to a stop, the ground trembled, "Alright, alright! Settle down! I'm comin'." The farmer called out to his beasts as they trotted towards him.

As the man made his way around to the back of the trailer, he thanked all the Gods he knew for the high voltage fence that kept the beasts in place. Each one weighed in at well over four tons of meat and muscle. They were known as Frontier Bison, bred by the Nobility from the ancient DNA of Bison from centuries before. These creatures were created to feed the humans the Nobility kept as food, and guinea pigs, each one could feed two hundred people.

As the man began to toss hay bales from the trailer, the beasts bellowed, begging him to hurry up. He whistled while he worked, well-toned muscles easily allowed him to throw the bales over the electric currents. "There you go critters. All nice a fe-- Huh?" Placing his hand over his brow to shade his tired eyes from the sun, the man spied one of the creatures nosing something along the ground.

Grumbling something about dumb animals, the farmer grabbed a long cattle prod and began to head over to where the creature was 'playing'. The animal was just a baby, but easily weighed in at close to two tons. Its large head scooted what looked like a sack of potatoes across the grassy pen.

A large red pull switch rested on a breaker box outside of the pen, this disarmed the electric currents surrounding the animals. The old man knew the beasts would be preoccupied with their food, and he could slip in and take away the contraband before the creature ate it and became ill. Giving the switch a good yank, the system whined to a stop as the beams faded away.

A few of the Bison bellowed for a moment, but soon returned to the hay bales, not caring about freedom for the time being. Gingerly, the man approached the animal, cattle prod out before him. The prod, used mainly for taking out lesser dragons and other creatures of the Frontier night, could deliver two million volts in one shot.

A loud snort came from the creature as it spotted the farmer. Tossing it's big shaggy head up and down, it pawed at the ground near it's 'toy', showing it wasn't about to give up its new form of amusement. As the farmer approached, he made a "shoo" noise at the creature, knowing that probably would not do much to detour the beast from trampling him into the ground.

Once the man was about eight feet from the massive creature, he extended the pole slowly, and gave the beast a quick zap on the nose. It cried out with a pained bellow, shaking it's head roughly before turning and stomping off, no longer interested in it's plaything. With a smug look on his wrinkled face, the farmer continued on towards the pile, curious about what was so interesting about what appeared to be a sack of flour or potatoes.

Suddenly, the man stopped in mid step, frozen. His eyes became wide, hands trembling as the pole fell from his fingers, sparks shooting from the end. Words tried to escape his lips, but only gasps of breath came. Grabbing at his chest with his right hand, the farmer groaned painfully as he fell quickly to the ground. The Bison raised their heads as a new scent filled the space.

A bellow rose up from one of them before they all turned and fled; no barrier stopped them as the creatures headed towards the sleepy little town, the church bell tolled out the hour.
It did not take long for the sheriff to find himself disturbed on his lunch break at the local tavern. After rounding up the herd of Bison, that had now trampled several steam cars, wagons, and helped themselves to the church vegetable garden, the law man was informed of yet another problem. "Damn it all. A man can't eat a sandwich around this place in peace!" He sneered and spat as he strolled out of town with the local militia.

In small towns like these, the locals formed militias, most consisted of young boys around the ages of eighteen to twenty - five. None of them had any formal combat training, or true fighting experience, but they could all wield a laser rifle or beam cannon with impressive ease. "Alright, what in Hell is so important that I had to leave my ham and cheese?" The sheriff, a tall husky man of thirty - five, eyed one of the minute men angrily. "Well, sir," The youth began, "Seems old man Hodgkin up and died. Right out in the middle of a Bison pen." The law man's bushy brow rose slightly, "You don't say." "That's not all boss," The youth continued, moving the rifle on his shoulder just a bit. The sheriff sighed "Oh Lord.." The boy who was around nineteen nodded quickly, his shaggy blond hair bobbing with his head, "There was an accident or something out there too." "An accident? What kind of accident?" The sheriff stopped, eying the boy strangely. "Yeah boss, they found a woman out there too. It's bad from what the preacher was saying. Like an animal attack, or Barbaroi.." The boy shuddered slightly.

The Barbaroi were a race of mutants that inhabited the Frontier and reigned unrivaled in the South Eastern sector. They were all freaks, most the result of years of inbreeding and experimentation by the Nobility. The Barbaroi were mercenaries for hire, and mostly dealt in Vampire affairs. "There haven't been Barbaroi this far East in decades! Don't go spreading rumors like that." The boy flinched, the sheriff was obviously unnerved. "Sorry boss, but that's what Father Callahan is saying!" The lawn man spat again and continued on, "Hmpf. That old drunk do good-er. He should just stay in his favorite bottle with the good book on his head." Stomping off, the law man could see the pen just up ahead, this would be a short trip, and he'd make sure of it.
Father Callahan was an old rugged priest in his late sixties. His face was full of wrinkles, and his left eye was missing, replaced by a patch, and he smelled terribly of whiskey. As the sheriff approached, the old holy man ceased his prayers, turning to eye the law man. "Glad you could finally join us, Maxim. There's evil afoot." The sheriff sneered as he halted his militia. "According to you, Priest, there's always 'evil afoot'." He spoke with sarcasm, "So what's got your feathers ruffled this time? A crop circle? Trees bent the wrong way?" The father shook his head, chuckling at the sheriff's mockery. "Oh, much more than that Maxim. So much more.."

The law man stopped beside the Priest, "Like what?" Father Callahan motioned to the ground before them, two sheets lay flat out, shielding the deceased from the noon sun and vultures. Sheriff Maxim slowly strolled over to the first one, his stomach knotted slightly. 'It's just an old man.. Nothing more.' His mind kept telling him that, but something deeper inside said it was more.

Bending down, he cautiously lifted the edge of the sheet, acting as if some creature was about to jump out and claw his face off. A startled gasp escaped the burly man as his eyes met those of the farmer who tended the town's Bison. The sheriff's face turned flour white as beads of cold sweat appeared on his brow. The look of sheer terror that was eternally plastered on the old man's face burned into the law man's skull, causing him to drop the sheet quickly. "Old man Hodgkin." He spoke to no one, not really sure if he spoke at all. "And the next one, Sheriff." The Preacher nodded towards the next sheet.

This one was a few yards away, and seemed smaller in size. Not sure if he could handle another look into the eyes of the dead, Maxim gave the Priest a sorrowful look before making his way over to the other body. He could just hear the young militia boys in the back of his mind, talking about Barbaroi and Nobles, it gave him a sick feeling. Stopping before the mass on the ground, the sheriff shook his head, clearing it. 'Bull shit..." Sniffing down some air, he knelt down and slowly lifted the sheet.

A cry of horror came from him as he sputtered back a few steps, his breath caught in his throat. All color left his face as he gagged loudly, his hand coming to cover his lips, trying to keep that sandwich down. "Awful isn't it, Maxim?" Father Callahan was by his side, rosary in hand. "She's not from our town, and has only been out here about 12 hours, or so says the doctor." The law man turned away, coughing up bile. "My God.." He could only mutter a few words before nausea over took him. "Looks like the work of a Noble to me, Sheriff." The Priest placed his hand on the coughing man's shoulder before muttering a prayer and turning away, he had seen all that he could stand.

The body was that of a young woman, her golden tresses were strewn about around her head, her neck snapped wildly to the side. Her bright green eyes were wide dead fish eyes full of fear. A line of dried blood stained her pale skin as it trailed from her lips to her chin. Turning back for just a moment, the sheriff noticed something else that made his blood run cold. When he had dropped the sheet, it fluttered back just a bit, revealing her naked form. "Fa--Father Callahan.. What happened..?" The Priest shook his head as he gingerly pulled the sheet away more. Maxim turned away immediately, gagging again.

Her body had been split from abdomen to breast bone in a violent way, all of her insides remained, except for her stomach. The Bison had torn one of her arms from its socket, and it lay at an awkward angle now. Strangely enough, there was barely any blood surrounding the body. "It seems this young woman was a Noble's victim. Must have been traveling alone. Poor thing, never stood a chance." Father Callahan mumbled another prayer before covering the body again. "Father, do you think there could be more Nobles? I mean, are we in danger here?" Maxim gulped down some air before looking over to eye the local boys.

All of them could be dead in a few hours if this was indeed the start of an epidemic. "From what I can see, Sheriff, we need to play this down for now. No need to start a panic." Callahan took a flask from his belt, popping the lid, he took a deep swig. "These people would spook like a herd of cattle at the very mention of a vampire. I say we just sweep this under the rug." The law man stared wild eyed at the Pastor, "Father are you serious? Don't these people have a right to know?!" The holy man placed a hand on his shoulder and sighed, "Yes, and no Maxim. It's better for them not to know right now. If things get messy, then we come out and say something. No need to start something for nothing. Besides, "The old man took another swig from his flask, "I put my robe and rosary on this never happening again...."
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Rock The Cradle