"If we're going to be working together, I need to know your general fighting style," said Eddie as he shivered. The streets of London remained icy and snow-covered. However there was a notable difference from the past days. Tire tracks followed by many footsteps littered the roadways - leading towards Heathrow Airport. Or at least that is what Eddie assumed. [But why are people taking cars to Heathrow if they still don't work?] thought Eddie.
"Well," began Nathaniel hesitantly, "I'm much more of an offence and mobility fighter than defensive one."
"That's a little vague." replied Eddie, half-sighing as he walked beside Nathaniel.
"Yeah, that is pretty vague." chimed Diana from a salvaged wheelchair pushed by Nathaniel.
"Agreed, you really could give us a lot more detail." interjected Vin.
"That's not enough," Brandon paused to catch his breath, "information, Nathan."
"Okay, OKAY!" Nathaniel said, raising his voice momentarily, "First, don't call me Nathan. Ever. Second, if I'm so vague just ask me the specifics you want to know then, Eddie instead of everyone saying the same thing repeatedly."
"Why don't you like being called Na-" began Brandon but was silenced by Eddie's gloved hand.
"Do you prefer melee or ranged weapons? Which weapons do you specialise with? What training, formal or informal, have you received? What combat experience do you have? How many confirmed kills do you have - if any?" interrogated Eddie with rapid fire questions, turning his head to look at Nathaniel as the group travelled.
Nathaniel sighed heavily, fiddling with the buttons of his overcoat with one hand and resting the other on his handgun.
"I prefer ranged weapons generally. I am best with swords, handguns and shotguns but can use any firearm with decent ability," Nathaniel paused, thinking carefully about his wording. [I cannot reveal that I have been sent back in time, but I still need to give Eddie a clear idea as to my skills] he thought. "I have received formal firearm and unarmed combat training from the FBI. Informally… I have a lot of experience. As for bodycount…" Nathaniel trailed off, he knew this number but did not dare say it, "I have no clue. Maybe a dozen or so, most since the Apocalypse started."
Eddie stopped walking and immediately spun to face Nathaniel. His Colt Peacemaker materialised out of the darkness of his sleeve and into his unshaking hand - levelled at Nathaniel's head. "I've been dealing with shit longer than you've been alive, Rookie. I know when I'm being lied to." Eddie paused, squinting his eyes at Nathaniel. The entire party had stopped walking now. Brandon and Diana looked at Nathaniel nervously while Vin's face paled at the sight of Eddie's firearm. "You come out of nowhere and save our asses. You practically begged to join my team and now you're acting like you know better than us. I've seen shit that'll send your therapist's therapist to therapy, Kid. Why should I trust you and what the hell are you hiding?"
Nathaniel raised his arms slowly, taking a tentative step towards Eddie.
Eddie's grip tightened on his revolver.
"Answer the question." he spat.
"Edward Miles Barret." replied Nathaniel, taking another step forward.
"How the fuck do you know my full name?" demanded Eddie, cocking his handgun.
"I worked for the Federal Bureau of Investigations as a Special Agent. Two years ago you gave a speech to the Special Agents that worked at the FBI during a classified inter-governmental conference between specialist law enforcement agencies. Sound familiar?" asked Nathaniel, taking another step forward so the tip of the revolver's bayonet was mere millimetres away from piercing his skin.
Eddie's Colt Peacemaker vanished into shadowy flames, stored into his pocket dimension once more. He straightened his coat and offered the younger man a hand.
"You're one of Carlton's boys, you should have said sooner." said Eddie with a grin, "you know I knew him back when he was a desk jockey, putting in sixty hour weeks. I suppose you already knew that though. Anyway I'm glad to have a half-decent fighter on my team aside from Vince. I see why you were so desperate to join me now. Sorry for not recognising you, Nathaniel Marshall Torres."
"That's alright Sir," replied Nathaniel with a smile as he shook Eddie's hand. [He remembers my full name, we haven't even met before in this timeline] he thought while saying, "Glad to be part of the team."
Although externally Nathaniel appeared calm, collected and confident, internally he was screaming. [HOLY FUCK!] he screamed mentally, [If he figured out I was lying he'd skewer me in seconds. Even my overpowered Retribution ability would barely phase him]. Eddie did not need god given powers to be dangerous. Nathaniel knew very well that even now, Eddie was still holding back and rusty compared to his prime. Twenty years of retirement did that to a man, no matter how skilled.
Nathaniel shuddered instinctually as he realised the fate he barely managed to dodge.
"You okay?" asked Eddie, frowning slightly as his eyes softened.
"Yea, just a little cold. We should get moving to get warm again." answered Nathaniel, smiling slightly.
Suddenly a scream echoed throughout the frigid street as a group of Undead turned the corner and set their sights on Eddie and his crew.
"Or we could kill a few dead bastards." smirked Eddie, unsheathing the yari spear he wore along his back. Summoning a pair of police tonfas from his pocket dimension, he threw the weapons over to Nathaniel.
"Have you got any experience with these?" asked the older man, stepping forward and slashing down along an ancient shriveled Undead.
"A little." replied Nathaniel, driving the tonfas simultaneously through an Undead's abdomen and skull. Having pinned the creature on his newfound weapons, the man spun and using his momentum threw the Undead at its encroaching brethren.
Brandon then leapt forward with his now blunt machete and hacked into the fallen Undead's limps. Grunting and panting from effort, he gruesomely severed the convulsing creature's tendons before leaping to face another. Wet blood coated his hands up to the elbow as the teenager forced his blade through the innards of incapacitated Undead to slow their regeneration.
Nearby Vince cracked his neck and raised the hammers in his fists. An Undead approached him, reaching out towards the old man with gnarled claw-like fingers. Vince smiled. He swung his right hammer in a short arc, breaking the Undead's nose with a sickening crunch and burst of blood. As the creature reeled backwards from the sheer force of the blow, Vince stepped forward and unleashed a powerful kick with his left leg. His foot connected with the temple of the Undead's skull, shattering instantly and causing the once-human to collapse on its side several metres away from Vince. Satisfied with the damage done, he turned to face his next supernatural opponent.
Meanwhile Nathaniel was figuring out how to use his tonfas effectively. Spinning the weapons in his hands relinquished precision but greatly increased force and thus also damage. Overall he found them fun to use, however he still missed his old sword and handgun from his past life. [Perhaps I will find my relics again in this life], thought Nathaniel as he incapacitated another Undead and looked at the team around him, [or maybe even something better].
Eddie, Vince and Nathaniel did the brunt of the fighting. Working in tandem and separately, they injured Undead to allow Brandon to further butcher them. While this happened, Diana watched over the group. She spun slowly in her wheelchair and called out where the next enemy approached, using her future vision when she could to help make predictions. Her battle intuition was excellent and was an invaluable asset to the team. This allowed Eddie's crew overall to function like a well-oiled Undead massacring and mutilating machine.
From a nearby rooftop a figure watched the battle below. At first he had been watching for pure entertainment while he took a break from travel. However the group quickly piqued his interest. He recognised them from before, Clayton did not forget a face. Watching through the scope of his APR-4, he grinned. Suddenly he spun around and aimed his rifle forward. Clayton had sensed the presence of… something. He was not quite sure what. However Clayton took few uncalculated risks and knew better than to mess around with other Angels. Sighing, the man took off and began to travel along snow and frost covered rooftops once more.