Mercy. Such is a trait that if you are to be found void of it you are assumed to be heartless, cold and not God fearing.

He had never liked that assumption much yet it resounded in his head with every breath he stole, every step he managed.

Look at me, look at me you bastard.

His whole body ached and bled. Shaking and shutting down. Sweat and blood mingling as they left his skin and seeped into his torn clothes.

But the man before him looked through him. It were as though his blue eyes were windows inviting him in, inviting him to tear through his soul.

Never had he felt such a pure rush. A rush of adrenaline? No, it was deeper than that. It felt like he had held the whole world in his hands; a promise of the life he could lead with a woman he cared for and now this creature was in his way.

Mercy?

Why should he show any?

He felt the cold, reassuring weight of the blade in his hand.

Is this how you felt when you tried to stab her?

Gritting his teeth O'Connell took another step towards the once High Priest, never letting his eyes leave the target for a moment.

That was until Evelyn screamed.

"Rick! Watch out his priests!"

The desperation in her voice snapped him out of his blood thirsty trance. Her eyes pleaded for sanctuary, for him to save her and take her far, far away.

Rage surged through his veins as he saw Evelyn struggle against her bonds.

Eliminating most, he had but one to sever when he was pulled to the ground but decayed hands.

No, get off me…

He writhed on the floor in a way most unbecoming, while Evelyn leant as far as she could over the sacrifice table.

"Behind you! O'Connell behind you!"

He felt the flesh fall away beneath his fingertips every time he grabbed at them, the unholy priests. The smell was putrid and violated his nostrils, numbing his senses.

One of them was carrying a granite block.

Heh, I wonder if Evie knows what that says.

With one swift motion he reached for a disembodied hand and slashed the calves of one of the undead- sending him backwards.

Pulling himself up, he cut Evelyns last bond.

"Are you okay? Did he hurt you? Evelyn-"

He held her arm and touched her face.

"I'm fine now."

There was hope in her eyes. She bent down and retrieved his sword, pressing it into his palm.

"Keep him busy." Before turning and running to find her brother.

Turning to face his adversary, the one who didn't know how to stay dead, he shot a look of white hot anger. Never before had he felt this way, never before had he had others to protect with meaning other than himself.

You tried to kill Evelyn, the one woman I could love…

His grip tightened around the golden blade.

Would he show any mercy?

None.

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This was just a little oneshot, written at 4.30am! The way my mind works eh…