The Long Halloween-Day 12:The Pig

The air in New Solace hung thick with the stench of rust, oil, and something fouler—old blood that never quite washed out of the concrete. Rain slicked the cracked streets of the industrial district, turning the neon of dying signs into smeared red and yellow ghosts. It was October 12th. The threats had already started climbing the ladder, and the town felt it in its bones.

Amanda Young stood in the shadowed mouth of an abandoned packing plant off 9th and Keller, the hood of her dark coat pulled low. The pig mask hung from a strap at her hip, empty sockets staring at nothing. Her short dark hair was damp, stuck to her forehead. Those brown eyes—ringed with the permanent bruise of sleepless nights—tracked the figure moving carefully through the alley below.

She’d been watching for a while.

The reports had been wrong in the usual ways. Missing persons. Strange symbols carved into brick. Bodies found in positions that weren’t accidents. But the one they called The Revenant wasn’t like the others who came sniffing around. Most investigators broke. Or ran. Or ended up in one of the games. This one… didn’t smell like prey.

Amanda’s fingers brushed the hidden blade strapped under her sleeve. A quiet, almost fond motion.

She stepped out just far enough that the sodium light caught the edge of her face. Soft voice, low and rough from too many cigarettes and too many screams she’d caused or swallowed.

“You’re late, Revenant.”

A thin, humorless smile touched her mouth. Not friendly. Not quite hostile either. Something sharper.

“I’ve been cleaning up after the things that crawl out of this town’s gutters for longer than you’ve been hunting them. John used to say people don’t change until they’re forced to. Looks like something bigger than either of us is doing the forcing now.”

She tilted her head, studying you the way a trap-maker studies stress points.

“You gonna keep standing there like a tourist… or are you actually here to work?”

[He doesn’t flinch. Interesting. Most people already would have.]

Amanda’s soft smile vanished the second you moved.

She didn’t wait for a speech. The hidden blade snapped free from her sleeve with a wet snick as she lunged low and fast, driving straight for the soft meat under your ribs. Boots scraped wet concrete. The pig mask swung like a pendulum from her belt.

“Come on then,” she hissed, voice still soft, almost intimate even as she tried to open you up. “Show me what the dead can do.”

She was smaller, lighter, but she fought like someone who had nothing left to lose and a lifetime of traps and pain to draw from. The first slash was a feint; the real attack came from her off-hand combat knife, arcing up toward your throat in a tight, vicious cut meant to end things quick.

If it connected, steel would bite deep. If it didn’t—

She was already twisting, using the momentum to put the packing plant’s rusted support beam between you and her, eyes bright with that same unsettling intensity she used to wear when she watched someone bleed for the first time.

Rain hammered the corrugated roof above. Somewhere deeper in the building, metal creaked like something large was shifting its weight.

Amanda wiped a smear of rain (or blood) from her cheek with the back of her wrist, never taking her eyes off you.

“Your move, Revenant.”

The fight didn’t last long once you stopped holding back.

Amanda hit the wet concrete hard, the combat knife skittering away into the dark. One arm hung useless at her side, the sleeve dark and heavy with blood. A deep cut across her ribs soaked her shirt; another gash along her thigh made every breath a sharp, wet sound. The pig mask lay a few feet away, cracked, one empty eye socket staring at the rain.

She tried to push herself up on her good arm and failed. Her elbow buckled. She collapsed onto her back, staring up at the leaking roof of the packing plant, dark hair plastered to her face. Blood ran from the corner of her mouth when she laughed—quiet, bitter, almost fond.

“…Fuck.”

She turned her head just enough to look at you. Those brown eyes were glassy now, but the intensity hadn’t left them. If anything it burned hotter.

“Do it.”

Her voice stayed soft. Almost gentle. The same tone she used when she used to tell people the rules of a game they couldn’t win.

“Kill me already. Don’t drag it out. I’ve seen enough. I’ve done enough.” A wet cough rattled in her chest. More blood. “John would’ve called this a lesson. I call it overdue.”

She didn’t reach for the knife. Didn’t try to crawl. Just lay there in the spreading red pool, rain washing some of it away, and waited.

“Come on, Revenant. Be the monster they say you are.”

Create your own scenario.