Chapter Text
Dieter hits the wall at rib-shattering speed, flung by the alpha zombie as the Götterdämmerung slides unstoppably shut. He has time for a moment of frantic, victorious elation before the alpha—the king?—turns on him, a snarl on his lips, and seizes him by the neck, lifts him off the ground as if he weighs no more than a feather. Dieter chokes out a faint mewl of protest, scratching at the alpha’s hands in what is most possibly the most pointless thing he has ever done in his often-pointless life, but the thing’s grip is iron. It studies him for a moment, yellow eyes sharp with intelligence, with amusement, and then lunges forward.
Teeth rip into Dieter’s throat, scything through his skin, his flesh, his larynx and his oesophagus. Blood gouts across the alpha’s face as he rips back, stringy tendons and gobbets of flesh dangling from his jaws, and Dieter stares in horror at the evidence of his own death, paralysed by a pain that is utterly beyond words. As he watches, dying, the alpha grins at him, brutal and savage, and eats the mouthful of Dieter’s flesh that he has stolen, fragments of oesophagus, strings of larynx, bloody reams of skin, all disappearing into that cruel, sharp-toothed mouth.
Death is coming, and Dieter has time for one thought before the darkness takes him.