Mortuus had toppled the moment his spine was ripped away. He just laid there like a ragdoll tossed aside with little care. His throat was the first thing to climb its way to him, slither back together, and crawl in place, which was perfect, considering he had quite a few things to say to the Hallows. "YOU'RE STILL THE SPINELESS COWARDS!!" He screamed as his throat reopened, allowing words to form.
He sighed with annoyance and remained on the ground, allowing his body to heal. Slowly, his lungs reinflated, forcing the shards of his ribs out of the elastic fibers and the bone fragments to grow into place. Then his liver and stomach slid back into place, worming their way through the holes that the Hallows created. His spine then jabbed into the skin and punctured through to begin clicking back in with a sickeningly wet click.
With the organs back in place, the muscles began to rewind themselves into each other and intertwine with the ligaments until they'd wrapped around enough to allow the skin to inch into place. Mortuus didn't even give his body enough time to finish before standing up and running for the door.
He ran for the door, his spine still wriggling back into place and causing a very awkward run to the door. Once there, he grabbed the handle and tried it. Mortuus figured it was probably locked, but he'd at least try.
Mortuus looked at the front of the house and then tapped the barrel of his revolver against the edge of a window. The glass instantly shattered as if waiting for a feather to touch it. He climbed through the window and stepped into the living room.
Mortuus took a deep breath and cocked his revolver, preparing for whatever was awaiting him on Jason's territory. He's well aware that he's at every disadvantage here. He took a minute to check if anything was different, but everything seemed normal.
Mortuus took a few more steps forward into the house. He didn't hear anything strange, just the same usual creaking floorboards. The quiet atmosphere was so much more unnerving. He called out into the empty house, silently praying to himself for no response.
Mortuus turned the corner, and a shadow fist socked him square in the jaw, fading into smoke upon impact. It immediately reappeared behind him and hit him again in the back of the head. Before it could throw the third punch, Mortuus caught the Hallow off-guard by grabbing its wrist and throwing the creature into an adjacent wall using its own body weight against it.
It puffed away in thick smoke, leaving behind an indent in the wall. "Where are you, you bastard?" he mumbled under his breath, his fist curling around the revolver's handle. He could feel just a singular bead of sweat dripping down the side of his face and damping the bottom-most bandages. It was still unnerving that these seemingly formless creatures could leave behind physical damage.
He didn't know where a Hallow would attack from. Each creak of the house made him jump slightly. As Mortuus entered the shambled kitchen, he quickly felt a Hallow's presence and dipped just in time. Thinking he dodged, Mortuus laughed with a smug smile. It was a short-lived victory as another Hallow threw him from his feet.
The icy fingers of the Hallow tightened around Mortuus's throat, squeezing with a relentless grip as it thrust his head into the searing heat of the oven that had been turned on. Meanwhile, another Hallow viciously pounded the oven door shut again and again, the metallic clang echoing through the room with each brutal slam that made contact with Mortuus's skull.
Mortuus had no way of pulling from its iron grip, but reaching into his breast pocket, he felt the sharp edge of a knife run along his fingers. He quickly grabbed it out and dug the blade into his own neck. Without hesitation, Mortuus began sawing through the skin and into the bone.
Spraying blood out like a fountain of red, Mortuus dragged the blade back and forth, cutting through the top layer and beginning on the bone, which took a bit but ultimately succumbed to the blade's edge.
His head rolled to the ground and knocked into a cabinet, leaving a blood trail as it made its way across the floor. With his head detached, Mortuus was easily able to slip from the Hallow's grasp. He quickly slipped out and kicked the Hallow, fading it away.
After he finally got the awful Hallows to fade, Mortuus walked slowly to his head. He lifted it and turned it from side to side in his hands. With one hand, he brushed away the cobwebs from the bloodied bandages and then held it to the stub of his neck. He set it down in the blood-drenched, gaping wound and pushed.
With a firm push, Mortuus felt his bone snap back into place and crimp the bones. He then twisted his head, producing a wet, squelching sound that echoed through the empty kitchen. He blinked a few times, testing the eyelids to make sure his nerves had reconnected. One two, two one; he blinked one after the other.
To anyone who might have witnessed the sight, it looked like Frankenstein's monster reassembling its pieces. The stomach-churning noises that the reconnecting muscle made were enough to make the strongest-willed throw-up.
Mortuus looked down at the knife on the floor. Its blade was shining amongst the blood. He hadn't realized he had dropped it, but he shrugged and returned it to its place in the trenchcoat. He then walked to the door of the foyer and pushed it open.
Mortuus stopped as he saw what was waiting for him. He'd walked right into a gathering of six, maybe even seven or eight, Hallows. They all quickly turned towards him, some of them twisting their heads around like owls.
Mortuus sighed heavily, "Well, fuck." He slowly closed the door and stood there for a moment, knowing that at any moment, the Hallows were going to attack. It was a matter of "if" but "when."
ns 15.158.4.40da2
