Thanks, everyone. Free Oneshot.

So I started this Patreon without a goal. I didn't have much confidence regarding the amount of people that would support me with their money, so I figured I could set a goal for 150$. I estimated to reach the goal after at least,  at the very least,  two months. Sixty or so days. It's barely been twenty, and we've already passed it. Thank you all for this. I really fucking appreciate it. It's more money than I know what to do with. Maybe it'll even end up paying for some of College in the future. Really, thanks. Now that we've gotten the thanks out there, I'll get to what you guys want to hear about.

The rewards.

They'll come. I won't be pulling a Sean Murray here. Well, maybe I am, now that I think about it. Anyway, I hit the goal way sooner than expected, so the 5 advance chapters aren't quite ready yet. However, I am working on them, and  should have them ready by next month at the soonest. For now, I'll be releasing one of those oneshots/chapters from my unfinished works for free to thank everyone. I might even continue these if you guys like it. Something I can use to take a break from Necromancer and Co. if writer's block or burnout ever manages to set in. We'll see.

Anyway, once again, thank you, and enjoy.

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Chapter 1: Dust Particles

They swirl and churn, sweeping across desolate streets and ruined buildings. They fly over crags and indentations before settling in the dirt, only to be swept away by stray winds looking for peace that would never come. They flow into dark alleys and shine in the rays of sunlight that pierce through the dark, inhaled into the nostrils of a scarred, raspy-voiced man.

"You thought you could get away?"

A crash came after the man's voice, the sound of splintering wood echoing throughout the deserted alley as a bleeding young man collided with a pile of rotting wooden crates. The barbs pierced his skin like fat, grainy needles. The young man's groan of pain morphed into a grunt as a kick landed on his side. The impact sent his lean body rolling, stopping only a few meters away. The almost sickly youth laid on his back, coughing as his eyes tried to hide from the blinding rays of sunlight that managed to get through the web-like amalgamation of planks that covered the alleyway. A poorly constructed roof, his brain idly noted. Dust lazily drifted down from above.

A foot was planted on his chest as the scarred man leaned down to look him in the eye. His head blocked out the sun completely, while his eyes almost seemed to glow with a vicious light in the darkness.

"You're lucky the boss sent me instead of Sammy. Your luck sure is holding up eh, Luth?" The man pointed his gun at Luth. A crude weapon, it was. Crafted from various poorly made parts assembled together to create a barely functioning pistol that constantly threatened to shoot the bullet out the other end. Luth wished it would; help take out the fucker in front of him and save him the trouble of suffering a bullet to his head. He got a punch to the face instead, the man laughing as blood dribbled down the young man's nose.

Despite the scene below, the wooden planks above creaked and clattered endlessly as multiple heavy forms lept and ran over the cobweb of planks that made up the ceiling. The scarred man paid them no attention.

He pressed the muzzle to Luth's forehead and spoke a low, threatening tone. "Now, why don't you tell me where you hid the Stalker blood?"

Luth grit his teeth. "There are crates inside my room in The Scrapyard,” He said, gauging the man’s expression. “There's a key under one of the floorboards beneath them. It unlocks the safe I keep behind the--" The man interrupted him by slamming the butt of the gun against the young man's cheek. Luth tasted blood.

The man's face was dark. "Nice try kid, but you can't fool me with such an obvious bluff. The boss already ordered for your room to be swept clean. The stash of coins in the wall?" He brought out a leather pouch with his free hand and grinned. "Boss gave it to me for ratting you out."

The young man under him spat out some of the blood in his mouth. "Why the fuck does Ragen need the blood? His infusions are leagues above what the Stalker blood can give him."

"You don't ask the questions, Luth. If you don't tell me where the blood is, Ragen the Skinner will have both of our hides."

By now, the rattling above had quieted down, bathing the alleyway in silence. Dust fell from the ceiling, and a slight scraping noise echoed out from above.

"Ragen will have yours, Deige. Not mine," Luth spat, and his spittle made a clear slapping sound against the space between Diege's eyes. The man's face twisted in fury as he moved his gun and unloaded a bullet into Luth's shoulder. The young man screamed, his eyes bloodshot as a burning sensation flooded the nerves in his shoulder. Suddenly, a banging sound began to echo out as the planks above shook as if being hit. Diege glanced upwards.

Luth immediately went for it, ignoring the pain in his shoulder as he twisted his body to the side and kneed the back of Diege's leg. The sound of a gunshot rang out, but the bullet only dug into the walls of the alley as the scarred man lost his balance. The young man under him rolled to the side and picked up a sharp plank from the destroyed barrel.

He spun and used the centrifugal force to strengthen his strike, but the plank merely shattered against Diege's raised arm. 

The world suddenly turned black for a moment as a punch collided with Luth's face and knocked him back into the wall behind him. He hit his head and barely dodged a bullet as he dived and picked up a dagger-like shard of wood. The grains dug into his skin. He sent a stab towards Diege's stomach, but a side-kick caught his ribs and sent him rolling, coughing out as his lungs were sent into chaos. He tried to stand, a plank cracked against the side of his head. Luth was sent to the ground again, his vision blurring as the banging sounds from above got louder.

"Last fucking chance you little shit," Diege growled. "Tell me where the blood is!"

Luth sneered with his bloody mouth and was about to yell 'eat shit' at him when the ceiling collapsed, a wrinkly pale figure falling from above and digging its sharp claws into the scarred man's back. Diege let out a pained scream and swept his arm out in a circle, but the figure ducked, raking it's claws across Diege's stomach before jumping away.

Diege let loose a low, guttural scream and wildly shot bullets in the creature's direction. One, two, three, four, five, six... seven. Seven rounds. Including the three he used on Luth, that was ten. Diege was out of ammo.

The creature wasn't faring very well either though, three of the bullets managed to hit it. One in the chest, two in the stomach. It didn't give any indication that it was affected though. It snarled and lunged at Diege who was scrambling to reload, slashing at the man's shoulder and sending blood spraying out. Diege cursed furiously and dropped his gun and clip, reaching for the knife strapped to his hip as he dodged another swipe of the creature's claws.

While the two dodged and exchanged blows, Luth's vision gradually started to clear. His body ached all over, but he forced himself to stand. He braced himself against a wall and watched as the two quickly moved away as knives and claws were swung around. He glanced at the gun and hesitated for a moment.

He took it, and then he ran.

Diege ducked under a swipe and pulled the monster forward, tripping it with his feet and rapidly backing away. His face was pale from the blood loss, but all the wounds except the one on his stomach had already stopped bleeding. He silently thanked the person who created infusions in his head as he mounted the creature and stabbed it in the neck. Rotten black ichor spurted out. It struggled against him for a few seconds before slumping to the ground, dead.

He dusted himself off and looked back. "Now, Luth my boy, you have done an exceptionally good job at pissing me off. Tell me where it is, and--"

In front of him stood an empty alleyway, completely devoid of life. Luth had disappeared, and Diege's gun had gone with him. The scarred man stood still, his face slowly paling as he recalled the various toys the Skinner kept in his workshop. It slowly morphed into a look of fury. Bang! A crate shattered under his foot, the muscles in his legs thrumming in power... and scorching anger. Diege roared and dashed through the passage, intent on catching the slippery little bastard who called himself Luth Lightwood.

Luth covered his mouth, gasping for breath and wincing from the pain as air passed through a cut in his inner cheek. A roar rang out, and soon, the lumbering scarred man barreled past his hiding spot. Moments passed, before Luth finally let loose a sigh of relief. He glanced down at the shabby gun in his hands.

Good thing I didn't have to use it, he thought. Diege would be the least of my worries if this thing attracted a pack of shriekers.

He glanced at the pale, withered corpse sprawled out in the alleyway. Its blood was flowing in a steady throb, going to complete waste. Luth decided against collecting it. Shrieker blood fetched a good price, but it wasn't worth running into that bastard again. He plucked a pair of tweezers from his pocket and slowly inserted it into the bullet wound in his shoulder. They went deeper, until they finally closed around the bullet and...

Blood spurted out of the wound as the bullet was plucked out in a single, swift motion. Luth tossed it to the side and ripped the sleeve of his shirt, tying it tightly to the location with bloodshot eyes. Finally, he tightened the knot further and grunted. He limped out of the alleyway through climbing an old trashcan and jumping over a wall.

Landing with a grunt, he crouched behind a building and looked around the street warily. Nothing, he nodded to himself.

Stepping out of his cover, he dashed through the street and navigated through a maze of alleyways and dusty passages. Finally, he reached and old warehouse and entered through a hole in the wall. He climbed up the staircase within and grabbed a rail. He tried to hoist himself up, but the injury in his shoulder proved to be a bigger obstacle than the gap between him and his destination.

He cursed in indignation and pulled a creaky chair up the stairs, before using it as a stepping stone to climb up into an isolated spot in the upper parts of the warehouse.

It was a relatively small space, as large as two interconnected bathroom stalls—just like his old 'living space' back at Ragen's camp. He shook his head and directed his focus at the space before him. It had a dust-covered blanket sprawled across the floor he would use to sleep on, a barrel to store his things, a lamp, and...

Luth reached into a small, unnoticeable gap beside his sleeping space. He twisted it, and the wood came off to reveal a small pouch.

Inside of the pouch was a syringe, and within the syringe was blood--blood so red that it seemed to glow in the darkness. Luth gripped the syringe and went to the barrel, taking out some poorly made medicinal pellets, an old bottle of water, some bandages, and a container for hair wax. He set them down beside his bed, opening the hairwax container to reveal a strange orange salve. He got to work.

Taking off the syringe's cover, he had it hover over his neck, forcefully suppressing the trembling in his hands. He let out a breath, and with a grunt, he plunged it into his nape, unloading the contents into his bloodsteam. Immediately, he madly grasped for the pills, downing them with the water before taking the salve and applying it to the tiny puncture wound on his nape. Next, he took the salve and applied some to his face, a thick layer lathered over his eyelids. Finally, he took the bandages and wrapped it around his head, over his closed eyes.

He laid down and waited until a powerful sleepiness flooded his senses. Luth let loose a final breath, and with a final thought of self-reassurance, he fell unconscious.