The Rotten Delicacies Of The Human Form [Karl Heisenberg]

Pathetic Human Girl

It was colder than a witch's tit and the snow was coming down like a motherfucker over the mountains. Normally, this sort of weather would keep a person holed up inside their home, castle, or even their expansive factory that they spend most of their time hiding in. Unfortunately, due to a door left unlocked and an escaped experimental Soldat, Karl Heisenberg was not tucked safely away in his factory, that was always a little warmer than one would expect, like he wanted to be.

If it had been up to him, he would be at home, possibly working on the newest version of his mechanical soldiers. Of course, nothing ever seemed to be up to him anymore. But that didn't surprise him, it never had been.

Mother Miranda had somehow found out about this little slip up, only knowing what had escaped by the name of his "childish plaything" thanks to his older sister, Lady Dimetrescu. She'd been furious with him for letting something out of his filthy hideaway and endangering the lives of the villagers that so eagerly fueled her ego with their offerings and prayers. So, here he was, out in the middle of nowhere, with his hammer slung over his shoulder, looking for the damn thing. Anything to please his bitch of a mother. Or at least get her out of his hair for the time being.

The times when she turned a blind eye to him never felt quite long enough.

The snow crunched under his feet and his every exhale came out as a mix of cigar smoke and his foggy breath as he forged his way up the side of the mountain. He knew that there were some short cave systems up here and that there was a very good chance his stupid creation had managed to wander in there and died or maybe just got lost. Either way, he was ready to find the fucking thing, kill it, and get back home. It was a complete failure either way.

He'd reached the crest of a hill, an obvious cave only a few feet away with a crackling fire inside of it. He swore under his breath and took a long drag from his cigar as he shook his head, "Damn thing must have overheated."

At this point, he was ready to just turn around and go back home. It wasn't like it was going around killing anyone if it was sat in a fiery pile inside a cave a mile or so away from the village. He had even turned around with a satisfied smirk on his face, knowing that he could go back to lounging and plotting like he'd planned to do today. However, something stopped him in his tracks. It was a slight sound, one that he wouldn't have picked up on had he been walking because the sound of the snow underneath his heavy boots would have drowned it out.

He listened to it for a moment. If he were a dog, or any animal really, his ear would have perked up in curiosity. Only, he wasn't a dog, because he refused to be known as anyone's bitch. Instead, he tilted his head to the side as though it would help him hear it better. Was that... It couldn't be, could it?

Lord Heisenberg trudged the rest of the way over to the cave, knowing that sound would eat away at him for the rest of the afternoon if he didn't go and see what it was. It wasn't clear to him what exactly he was expecting when he reached the mouth of the cave, but it certainly wasn't a young woman asleep on the ground surrounded by human remains.

Bones littered the cave; some still host to flesh and blood stains. What turned his stomach slightly was the indentions on the bones that reminded him of teeth marks. To keep from tasting bile rise in the back of his throat, he focused on the woman laid out on the ground, who was now very obviously snoring. He had thought that he recognized the sound earlier, but until he saw this, the snoring had no reasonable explanation. If he was being honest, which wasn't something he did often, none of this made any sort of sense.

He looked her over, taking in every detail that he could see. Her brown hair that had once held a shimmering copper tint, was now dull and lifeless as it laid out around her head like a tarnished halo and laid across her cheeks in tangled tendrils. Her cheeks were pale, and much like her darkened eyes, sunken into her face. Her lips, chapped and cracked as they may have been, shook with every freezing breath she took into herself. But other than her deathly appearance, something else stood out to him about her. Her leg looked as though it were bent the wrong way, which meant that it was bent at all since her shin, that was supposed to be straight, now seemed to have a forty-five-degree angle in it.