8th Bullet: Janda and the Gravedigger

A chain wrapped around Janda's boot, pulling him to the ground. He scrambled up and yanked the chain off, it reeling back to its owner. He peered through the mist to see shifting shadows but couldn't get a good hold of the fighter ahead. A bullet rang out and narrowly missed his shoulder as he dodged the incoming assault.

Quickly leaping off the ground, Janda hid behind graves and blindly fired his SMG at the swift shadows. These foot soldiers were tactical, using every space and factor to their advantage. Janda hated tactical fighters the most. Well, he hated all kinds of fighters the most. It annoyed him but it wasn't interesting, it wasn't difficult and it certainly wasn't entertaining. It was like a fly, buzzing around him and giving him discomfort of his safe space.

That reminded him of the time, during misty areas like this. The time he saw the Weeping Spirits. He lived around them, talked to them, and felt their pain. Their pain was like the mist, overwhelming, unrelenting and hiding something. Something he couldn't understand. 

He took in a deep breath. He gripped his SMG tightly and closed his eyes. He heard the shifting shadows, boots splashing onto the grave grounds. Puddles. Mud. Dirt. Mist. Water. Oasis. 

That's right, he was a Child of the Oasis. Water was his thing.

"Lamentatio Fluminis."

The mist began to shimmer gently and Janda opened his swirling blue eyes. He could see the shadows in the clearest and so he raised his gun and fired at the moving shadow. It hit dead in the head, causing the soldier to tumble to the ground. He turned his body around and shot another soldier in the head. He moved faster and faster until afterimages took place in his constant movements. He saw and felt each drop of the mist, each particle to their fullest. Through that, he saw what was hiding behind them.

Their fear of their evilness. 

He walked out the mist, his body slightly drenched in water. He shook his head and his water-clogged ears drained out. The mist dissipated, revealing the many dead bodies of the already fading soldiers. How ironic. Dying at a graveyard. 

However, irony did not interest Janda Elliot, Child of the Oasis. It was all boring. How bothersome his Modus was, Lamentatio Fluminis in particular. Regardless, his Death Arm, Lament, still made things less boring than it was.

Janda walked in the vast and overbearing grave. After walking for a long while, he saw a large pile of dirt and another cloaked figure. He grunted and raised his gun only to realize it was a Gravedigger who was shovelling quite terribly. He lowered it and took careful steps forward.

"Hey," Janda called out. "Have you seen a couple of Killrights on some horses. One's really short and annoying and one's really big and annoying."

The Gravedigger turned around and saw the Killright with a massive rifle. The Gravedigger let out a yelp and fell back, falling into the grave. Janda walked over and looked at the frail and malnourished young boy of a Gravedigger. He sighed and helped out the poor fellow and dusted off some dirt.

"Th-thanks..." the Gravedigger murmured. He had a real awful stutter and seemed to be struggling in puberty. 

"Don't mention it. Now, my question."

"I-I haven't seen anybody of the sorts... P-p-perhaps they went to the Morgue?"

The Morgue. Yes, he had remembered Uvo talking about it.

"Where's the Morgue," Janda questioned with slight enthusiasm. Revenge was brewing and he was still deciding whether it should be delivered with a kick, a punch or a bullet.

"Um... It's hard to explain with d-directions. I can... L-lead the way, mister."

"What about the grave?" Janda asked. "Aren't you employed?"

"Ah, no..." The Gravedigger replied. "I'm j-just looking for... s-something. It ain't h-here anyway..."

Janda shrugged and gave a slight jerk of his head, signalling the Gravedigger to lead the way.

"What's your name, Gravedigger?" Janda asked.

"Daxmen," the Gravedigger said. 

"Weird name."

"I-I get that... a lot."

Daxmen lead Janda through many bends and turns. Everything looked the same. The air was dead and heavy, rotting flesh hitting his nose like the occasional jab. His boots squashed the mud and he saw Daxmen sometimes trip on the huge tree roots, dropping his large and heavy shovel. The boy was quite embarrassing to be around. He seemed weak and fragile. Unlike Akio, he had no backbone so it was like watching a rabbit stumble on its own feet.

"Why Gravedigging?" Janda asked.

"W-well, my mother is really sick... s-so I'm t-taking odd jobs to p-pay for medicine. Th-the Morgue owner's p-paying me to look for s-something shiny. I don't know... what it is."

"Must be boring."

"Qu-quite is..."

In front of them appeared a Morgue, half the size of HQ. It was crooked, crumbling and chilling like any other holder of Death Matter. A set of double doors towered, a cross placed in the middle and two skeletons chained to it. The pillars were chipped and cracked the grey walls were simple and, well, dead. The soil was deep and it felt like one wrong step and his whole body would drown into the earth below. Janda's SMG dissolved and soaked into the ground, the band still being present. It was beautifully carved, serpents and a cross decorating it. Daxmen eyed the jewellery. Its design was fascinating, the way it glinted and shone, he just had to reach out and—

Janda slapped his hand away, giving him a serious stare. It burnt through the young Gravedigger, causing him to shy away.

"Don't touch me," Janda replied before pushing the ginormous doors open to see Akio's body hanging on the roof by chains, mangled and savagely ripped apart while fresh blood poured onto the ground. Daxmen let out a blood curdling scream.