Darkness Becomes Her Disclaimer: Own the ideas, but didn’t make money for it. Any comments, just e-mail me at “kfong60hotmail.com” Episode 7: The Infiltration Wandering his sights to the emerald eyed, he felt her withdrawing in more ways than one, and though he wanted to reach out and assure her there was nothing to worry about, he didn’t. He didn’t want to fill her with insecure promises, as they were such fickle things. He watched as the Claire moved to the other side checking the satchel filled to the brim of cartridges. He watched, wordlessly, as she ran her sense of touch through the contours of the objects, face averted, eyes downcast. He decided to let her be for the moment without remark, as she sat legs propped, shutting the world out, shutting him out. For a moment he lingered, wanting again to assure her she wouldn’t be harmed, that she would be alright. He could foresee the death of her own pure breed and their willingness to end her life had left her in a dilemma. He directed a link with mild curiosity to Carrie for her input on this matter. She returned his glance almost expectantly sighing. She couldn’t blame her for being anxious as she was; their alliance, if it could indeed be called that, was too new, too tenuous. She knew that Vlad would give her time, as much as he could afford, to come to terms with everything that had just happened. Hopefully, she would be back to her perky self before he changed his mind and patience waned. He was a very capricious vampire after all, and to waste the hour glass handed to her ignorantly in the form of indecisiveness did not bode well. Carrie mutually returned her sights on Vlad with a favoring gesture. He understood, that it would be best if they gave her some more space to gather the ashes of her sanity. Claire had her eyes closed, and leaned her forehead against the window pane. A hand was propped above her forehead, fingers swirling the stress away to clear some semblance of clarity. This confusion, this bewilderment; she wished she could shove it away, thrust her dread out of her mind. There was no remedy, she acknowledged with resignation, for this malady. The answers were never forthcoming. So there she remained quietly, crippled and lost, feeling as if she were drowning. Hearing the squealing of a knob, she peeked from the corner of her eyes to the perpetrator, which was the man she came to know as Vlad. Behind him, Carrie followed in stride seemingly to have the same thing in mind. Something in her tone prompted him to turn to face her. The expression on her face was stricken, as though she just realized something she wished she hadn’t. She asked then, “Where are you going?” Carrie decided to answer on their behalf, “To grant you peace of mind.” She laughed, a harsh grating sound. “To give me peace.” She became more downcast, at the malady of the story in which was her life. “There is no longer peace for me. I’m tormented when you’re near. . . and I’m tormented when your away.” “Then tell me, child. Tell me what you have to say, what you want to say. I am all ears. . .” He said nothing more, but waited for her to continue. “You. . .” here her voice faltered, as she swallowed before going on as she pointed a finger accusingly at Vlad. “I’m afraid of them. . . But I’m afraid of you as well. I,” she continued with heated emphasis, “Hated you. Hated what you did to me. I want to hate you now. Maybe I do, I don’t know. I don’t know what to feel anymore. Whatever this- this feeling is,” she brought her hand to her chest, and held it there as reassurance, “I’m afraid of it. I’m afraid of you. . .” He exhaled slowly, at the girl spilling her feelings shamelessly out to him. But he knew better than to comment on that, and decided on a more soothing approach since she begun. “Did I not tell you, you had nothing left to fear of me?” “How can I believe that? How can I trust someone who’s done what you’ve done?” The hypothetic question had Carrie’s interest peaked as well to what he would say. He replied slowly, “You can’t.” simply. She nodded, a little wildly. “I can’t. I know that, but I still feel what I feel.” “That,” he said softly as he turned to make his leave, “is not such a bad thing.” The door silently enclosed after Carrie as the click reverberated, and the quiet still air replaced the atmosphere with solitude to her own thoughts. With her back against the wooden frame, Carrie leaned upon it, the corresponding hand snaking up to brush a few wisps away on her right, before settling to rest in the caress of its comfort covering her glowing reddish hue. Now was as good a time as any to discuss their reply to the other faction that wished them harm. “We can’t afford another uncalculated mishap,” succinctly, but not before a breather, “Even with all our powers combined, enough damage to our flesh and we won’t be getting back up.” “You need not remind me Carrie. Is that concern, I’m hearing from you?” slyly with narrowed slits. “Even so, why did you do something so reckless?” ignoring the latter comment, hands crossed below her chest. “What does it matter? It worked, did it not?” after ruminating of course. ‘There’s a fine line between bravery and stupidity.’ She wanted to say. She shook her head in an apathetic manner, “Keep thinking that way. Someday someone will use that vanity of yours against you.” “What? You?” he assumed smugly, “Thanks for the forewarning.” He could have sworn he caught a small glimpse of a vertical creak downwards on her lips, slightly. . . before it returned to that sour thin line. Be it fact or fiction, he dismissed it as a harmless gesture, suggesting nothing worth filing past a possibly vengeful imagination which included himself somewhere. “If my memory has not failed me, I seem to remember mere human inventions couldn’t hope to scratch you, never mind harm you. Also, why do you hold back your powers so? You should be able to dispose of the vermin with ease, without all these. . . tailing misfortunes.” She pondered, fingers stroking a width of a hair beneath the chin. Vlad traced his smooth, lengthy, silvery tresses within his slender fingers, “You see the color of this hair? Dry, silky, blank, white-grey nothing, but white as snow. . . It is the truth which binds my powers so. I was not reborn yesterday, and I am still weak and malnourished. It is the reason why my powers are so limited, for my exceptional reserves have not replenished themselves.” Observing the others hair, he pointed out. “And I see you suffer from the same ailment as well.” “I’ve been meaning to ask that.” She replied, one plaguing question abolished. Folding her arms, she asked half curiously, half expectantly, “And this can be remedied with time?” He nodded with eyes closed and sweet sorrow gracing his lips, “Time in which we have been denied.” She lowered her eyes a tad in contemplation. “It doesn’t sit well with me,” she stared aimlessly in the air above, “which makes it all the more imperative, that the actions we take are all the wiser.” “Here’s a suggestion,” delving through the many old machinating scenarios of ones history, “We could walk in the shadows to avoid alerting them once they come.” “That’s the best you can think of?” voicing the tediousness she felt for the idea. What he had suggested was too unappealing to her liking. Simple, she would give him that, but she doubted it was something the human under their protection could only hope to follow. He turned his back on her, fingers resting beneath his chin. “Or, we could segregate them.” Eyeing him despondently, “In simple English Vlad. You know I’m not so well versed when you speak like that.” After a natural seeping of silence for rumination, he reworded into a simpler recitation. “We divide the quarries attention.” “How?” She questioned imminently after. “By separating into two groups.” Vlad elaborated. In one masterly gale-like movement, he turned to one side to capture her vision. “We shall commence immediately then, without further ado.” The second stratagem brought to light was indeed worth a try. Hoisting herself from a tumultuous position, she reciprocated with a nod. “That will be just fine.” Re-entering the office, they found she was still by the windows. Her head swerved to meet them in small curiosity. “Come on, let’s go.” Vlad said. “Where are we going?” Faint sounds of shuffling crescendo on the other side. Locking eyes with the wide-eyed Claire, he responded, “Anywhere but here. They have arrived earlier than anticipated.” In a moment, Vlad and Claire ran out the door as Carrie tailing the back, just as in the opposite side, two soldiers in faceless black uniforms came in blazing at the retreating forms that left their sight. The gunners pursued indolently over the dilapidated wood which used to be a door. Carrie moulded her slender frame to the ceiling spider-like, and awaited. The malady thus far, was too far to abolish in a quick fashion. She knew she’d only have enough time if she were to strike at the exact moment one of them crossed the threshold, and if she was lucky, both in one fowl swoop. For this. . . the timing was crucial. The difference between success and failure was as thin as a piece of paper. But then again, how could she fail? Failure was not in her vocabulary. ‘I’ve sauntered in the life of both mortal and immortals. I will not let anyone rule over me like I’m nothing.’ She felt her finger tips were cracking as they made a loud ‘crunch’. The small, timid fingers began lengthening. The skin around it began sucking into the bones, the veins becoming transparent. Her fingers curled, and grew sharp as silver liquid coated her long fingers. They hardened, they sharpened, and they were dangerous. Once the cycle completed itself, she felt the burning sensation of her favourite blade coursing with erratic intensity within its confines. ‘Have a nice slumber in hell. . .’ The moment the first one took one despondent step pass the dividing line, the human impetuously looked above after catching a corner glance of color. Carrie whipped back into view to spring her into motion; flashing her weapons from the navel to the chops as she hung from her foundation. Any other feature was blocked by the explosion of red. It was as if she were bathing in the ocean of wine from her impaled victim, who she held firmly above her head as she held her favourite weapon in one hand, before throwing the mass of fiery flesh before its comrade. The other was beyond the proximity she could imbue with her touch. Dropping from her nest, the entrails dangled from her fingers as she turned into a dash down the corridor away from the other. As she rounded a corner with the enemy in hot pursuit, she was scathed in the shoulder by a few rounds before fading away like an apparition around the corner of the hallway. Biting down the pain, she ran through the first door on her right. Muttering a curse, she closed the sliding barrier behind her passing. She could sense Dracula’s aura easily even when apart. She would regroup with the others soon enough. Seeing the need to engineer more time for her own escape, she flipped a large file cabinet beside the doorway on its side, delaying the means of access. Turning around to take in the other three walls, she briskly approached the convenient ladder, and climbed to another section. The cacophony from the sealed entrance behind began pouring layers of dust from each quake from the outside-in. The knob flew off the hinges, but the action was redundant due to the extra insurance. By the time the barricade was a half recognizable mass of wooden splinters, the occupant was no longer there to greet them. Shining light gazed into the interiors of an albeit small storage room, it was clear the phantom was gone. The searchlight stopped at the traces of blood pasted upon the ladder. Figuring out how she performed the disappearing act, he contacted the others hastily with a snarl behind his gas mask. “I’ve lost my target.” “Did you get a good look at the target?” came Christopher’s voice. Victor could ascertain the briskness of a light jog on the other end. “Yeah. You may not believe this, but it was a little girl in a pink sundress.” “A little girl you say?” came a little disbelievingly. “Yeah. That little bitch killed Smith.” He returned sombrely, before sighing in resignation. “Look, I’m going ahead. Tell Wesker for me.” “Proceed with caution Victor. Whoever they are, they’re good.” Strapping his rifle on his back, he began climbing the ladder. The girl had wreaked his wrath. “Yeah, I know.” ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------- Pace matching pace, step after step Vlad and Claire ran. The vivid encounter of racketing pellets still fresh in her mind. All she could do was keep running, and hope that none other could catch her. Chancing a look over her shoulder, she found the azure haired girl missing; wasn’t behind like she should be, and came to a screeching halt. “Carrie’s gone!” Turning quickly, his eyes bore disdainfully at his companion. “She’ll be fine, let’s go.” Her emotions clouded her better judgment. “We have to go back and get her!” “No we don’t.” he spoke firmly. She gave him a wide eyed glare of disbelief. “How can you be so heartless? She’s your accomplice! Your friend! Friends help friends!” It didn’t faze him at all. “If she needed it I’d give it to her. But if she truly couldn’t handle a task so simple, I don’t know what I ever saw in her and she’d be better off dead.” She couldn’t believe this! Had the man no sympathy? Now she saw him for the evil he truly was. Keeping her eyes away from his disturbing coronas, she decided. “I’m going back to save her, whether you like it or not.” Turning away, after a few steps in her journey, she came to a bone chilling halt. “This will be the first time I’ve ever killed a human for disobeying me.” In realization, she twisted to meet him in abject shock. “Are you threatening me?” The scurrying of steps made itself known in the echoes carried throughout another hall. Gazing back at Vlad, he stood impervious, and hoarsely stated, “You don’t have the right to refuse. . .” Never faulting his gaze, he raised and twisted a free arm in an extravagant pattern. His phosphorescent eyes narrowed, the pupil sunk into itself for much more defined slits. It became that much more apparent, as she could see the sea of wine which swam in its crimson depths in an increased velocity of torrent. The nocturnal hue drank the light, as if feeding hungrily until it reached an inhuman release. The roaring winds once absently silent was drawn, howled fiercely into existence, as the turbulence launched transparently behind her, forming the raging wall of flames down the dark corridors. Some poor saps were revealed in the dancing glow, and two jumped to safety accordingly in the distance, but one was too slow on the ball and burst into a living, moving, and screaming copse of flame. The disturbing pupils returned to their less murderous look. “Now is not the time. I can do little more than assure you with mere words, but you must trust me. Trust me with every fibre of your being as you would your own kin. Turn back now, and you will find yourself in no position to refute the gates of Hades. She’ll be fine, Claire. I know she will.” With such conviction in his own words, that it reached his eyes somewhat. Though some previous worrisome trepidations lingered in the contours of her mind to a degree, she repressed them to the darkest corner. There had been a moment of hesitation, before they reached a consensus. Unless given reason otherwise, she would follow obligingly. Fire began alighting from behind, and she stirred that fear into adrenaline through her legs resulting in a tireless wake. It was a factor that exceeded her own limitations set by mortal flesh. There were no words to describe this necessity. Nothing would deter her from this path of self- preservation. Still they gained on them, and finally the reached the end of a hall, and she followed him as he turned to a door. With a quick discharge of erratic energy, the obstruction was blown off its hinges and Vlad appeared to stagger a bit at the consumption. Their pause in motion was enough time for quick, short bursts in high precision. Dracula weaved his coat before the speed demons, to catch them as a magician would and hiding him and Claire all the same from plain view. A few shots nicked him, but he shielded the human girl from all those that passed, and incessantly dragged the girl in hand at the first chance of reprieve. The pair disappeared within the dust with a whirlwind of emotion. The coat, bellowed in the air, riddled in holes. Slip away; fade away, by the time the two pursuers reached the doorway, the tattered cloth had disappeared without trace nor form. Nine suited soldiers came surrounding in a uniformed march. Now it could be seen that each had goggles which glowed an eerie neon with a strap of cloth wrapped around their lower face. The perpetual obsidian haze made it impossible to pinpoint where its wearer’s attention might have resided, if they were to so happen to look in ones direction. An ebony military helmet was fitted on their scalp, with a strap holding firm around the chin. A pair of oxygen tubes snaked around the shoulders, leading to where the mouth would be. Their attire was not that of standard issue, as it was outfitted with opaque armour which retracted light. Holsters on strapped on both sides, and each of their gear was specialized for the individuals expertise. The trussing of each was quick, and well coordinated. Not a single ounce of skin was revealed in all their dark glory, which made them a fearsome sight. These weren’t you’re average day soldiers, but it served its purpose for the mission they were to achieve behind the scenes. Flanking the door frame, two of them inched slowly from the corners of the door, to peer inside. It was a hall with three doors on the right, windows to the left, and a door slightly open at the end. There was corpse unmoving and a puddle of blood trailing to the end of the hall, but all the handles were smeared somewhat. The hall was dimly lit, as the lights kept flickering on and off. Seeing nothing, and a moment longer to make sure, the two waved their free arm forth. Two of the group raced to occupy the space between crouching, with their rifles firmly stationed between two arms and a knee, searching with the equipped laser sights. The commanding officer, Christopher tapped the wireless at the side of his visor. “Alpha team, we’re all in position. Ready to go.” “Proceed. . .” and the line closed. Waving his hand directionally, the four fresh troopers poured in from the left and right and took the sides with their backs to the wall, with rifles at the ready within close proximity of their chests, nozzles facing forty- five degrees upwards. They scurried to clear the area. It could be made out their reflection as they passed the glass frames, though they were pretty much camouflaged whenever the bulbs above would flicker do to the nature of their suits. The two by the door frame then broke into a light jog to the center of the hall, and crouch aimed. The two previous doing so, stood abruptly and briskly took point at the first door on the right. With a hand up to silence and stop all movements, the air became deafly quiet, as one of the soldiers reached for the door knob, and slowly turned in clockwise. With barely a click, the door began creaking slow and agonizing. With it, the contents within the walls made it visible at an angle. It was all the more apparent with everyone not saying, sounding, or moving an inch. Bending a bit to look through the gap available through half a face, there was a coffee mug upon a table stool, a fridge, some chairs, but nothing out of the ordinary in a single glance. Dismissing those looking intently at this door, the scout waved them away. Christopher catching the dismissive gesture, spoke in barely a whisper, but audible enough for those needed to hear. “John, Alex, check the doors.” The two in question repeated the cautious approaches born through training at the academy. A moments pause as they peered through the door, before nodding their head confirmed his suspicions. He turned his florescent eyes back towards the slightly ajar door at the end of the line. Just as he thought, the target had gone through the most obvious of the doors. But how could they not be wary and play it safe? The targets were very cunning and capable; the corpses of their comrades were testimony of that. Signalling for the others to join him, they stopped just outside the last threshold. A small shuffling was heard, and John threw in one of the tear gas containers had had within the satchel of his vest, into the uncharted terrain. The echo of gas, and the blooming transparent fragrance seeped through the gap before them. They were fine of course, with their masks on. John kicked open the door, sending it screech against the hinges, before he let himself in. Hearing a thumping of something falling within the thick cloud of gas, they became alert. Seeing a silhouette figure in the mist, the blazing of piercing rounds drowned out the noises. Soon as the dust cleared, they found not the target they were striving for, but just another passing zombie. Probably the two left it alive to slow them down. “Damn it.” He muttered. He ran a hand to the goggles upon his eyes, and un-strapped it. His eyes were revealed to be a stormy grey. A few wisps of lengthy brown hampered his vision, before they were brushed aside beneath a lungful tank of heavy air. Staring out the window, he noted the glade outside their location had unshackled its silvery nightdress for a translucent sheath of gold. It was almost morning. “Sir?” breaking him from his half-daze, he whirled around to face the good man. “Your orders?” “Check the next area with the same amount of caution. I don’t want any slip ups. And get someone to get me the layout of this station!” ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------- Back to the Vlad and Claire. The two were trudging down another section, with Claire half supporting the profusely bleeding vampire. She had ascertained that much. This was a living, breathing vampire. Turning her head, she found the same dreadful image. There was no way to stop the bleeding, and the amount already leaked made her wonder how someone could bleed so much and not succumb to fatigue. But this was a vampire, and she figured it would bode well to have an open mind to the paranormal. He was leaning slightly on her while she had an arm wrapped around his shoulders, with a nasty scowl directed at nothing in particular. His skin was smooth as velvet, but it was unnaturally pale. No warmth of a living creature radiated from him, but a cold void that reeked the same properties as death. The tendrils of his snow white tresses trailed behind his wake, soaked the coil; dripping. Though hindered with fresh wounds on her dark saviour, they were still moving faster than a snails pace. This would be twice she was indebted to him. Once being when they first met, and twice during their latest escapade. “What do we do now?” she asked him. His words had sunk deep within her soul, of how she should trust him if they were-, if she wanted to survive the next encounter. At the time he had shown such conviction, that she found herself obeying him with moral certainty. Perchance it was that too she supposed. Sharing a similar goal, an esprit de corps in the like which was beyond simplicity, in the midst of adversity. “I will require a quiet place, free from our nightly excursion. Find a place to rest. How does that sound?” He spoke deeply, “Best if it were underground.” Pausing for a moment to think, the only such place would be the stairs leading the holding cells. It was only a short ways away, as there were signs in every corridor. He could just imagine the cranks wheeling in that little head. “The holding cells.” Not a question, but a statement. He nodded languidly, “That will have to do.” Their eyes were locked, and she found herself admiring him. Even in a bind, he continued un-phased, calm and collected by the turn of events. If she were in his shoes, she couldn’t fathom if she could muster the courage to be like him; so damn psychologically untouchable! She wished she could draw on some of that unshakable spirit he possessed. Just by being close, she perhaps was in a sense, as it mitigated her emotional tension. Yes, she found herself resigning; he did seem to be a catalyst which made her problems not so bad. Compared to him, she couldn’t fathom any other situation which could be much worse or better than this. Quietly making their way past the winding corner, they wordlessly descended down the dilapidated staircase to the pits below. As they passed the bared gate hinges, she grabbed the keys hanging from a wooden plate nailed to the wall. “This won’t really stop them if they should come by here.” Claire contemplated. “Better it locked, than be caught by surprise.” Came the other’s input. Shrugging, she slipped the key into the lock, turned it until she heard an audible snap, and returned with the key dangling in pockets. Now that she could see the interior, she found it not far from what one would imagine the inside of a cell would be; Solid flooring and layer upon layer of more concrete. She scanned that there were only three cells, with the basic package of a makeshift bed hanging from the wall, and a white plastic sink. Not the most comfy of accommodations but she had no say in the matter anyways. Tucking the key chain in her pocket, she flopped down on a bed exhaustedly with arms propped behind her bed. Suddenly, finding staring into the ceiling interesting, she found a vent which ran in and out of sight. She sighed dejectedly before rolling to her side to face her saviour. ‘Not what I’d imagine for a prince on a white horse.’ She noted sombrely. Now that dream and fantasy was thrown to the dogs, she wasn’t as naïve anymore. The self fantasized and the real thing was very distinctly different, she had come to realize. Her eyes travelling with his form, she watched as he placed himself back-to-back to the cold surface just outside her chambers. Sighing again, she concluded she should thank him for all he’d done. The eccentric she hadn’t known for more than a couple hours tops, wasn’t obligated to do it, nor did he seem to genuinely like doing it, but beyond that fact, he did look out for her in ways she would be eternally grateful for. So simply out of the blue, her mouth moved before she could think otherwise in two words, “Thank you.” Staring back at her in a side glance from where his head tilted, Vlad narrowed his lips before closing his eyes again. “Just get some rest. I shall warn you whence the worms grace us with their presence.” Nothing better to do than to wait, she allowed herself to be lulled by the calls of the dreamless, surrendering to her fatigue. Vlad gave her one more precarious eye, before closing the folds upon them, exhaling a deep breath. Even the great Dracula, needed to rest during the day. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------- Meanwhile. . . Adjusting the goggles to a different setting, Victor scanned into the dark abyss. His gun firm in his hands, he noted the hall he was walking down was absently distilled of life. That was other than the sloppy path paved in corpses he was now trailing. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to tell him that if he followed the dilapidated trail to the end of the line, he would probably come across the prey in which he desired. There was suddenly a loud sound beyond the next bend. Hoisting his gun, he quickly dashed the edge, and slipped his eyes around the bend. Two creatures were in the middle of annihilating one other. There were two lickers he had read the files upon, and the other at an angle he couldn’t quite see. The shadow kicked away at the one coming closest to it. A flash of steel, and it thrust its steel claws into the belly of one licker, before gutting it further a violent barrel roll. The other licker pounced from behind, but was caught midway by the return of the reaping claws and screamed. The shadow seemingly disappearing for a fraction of a second from the previous place to another. -Flashback- She had always wondered. How he could so seemingly be one place and then another; just like that in a pillar of light, which he had also demonstrated, could be done without. It was bothering her, like roaches upon her mind. Being such, she visited him in the castle library where he sat dignified with a hand propped on one side, and the other with a book waned by age; seemingly browsing the contents nonchalantly. Her presence was announced even before she opened her mouth to give it, as she knew he knew when he lowered the book a tad and gave her a critical eye, before settling with a glint and a smile. When she finally found the voice to speak she asked, “How did you do that?” “Do what?” he asked with feigned ignorance. “Appear out of thin air.” She asked, truly wanting to know. He gave her his usual egotistical smile, which made her blood boil. But he indulged her, for this was but a small request that he was granting. “I bend whatever light around me, and then I simply move fast.” -End of Flashback- The shadow drove its finger upwards, meeting its head, and tore the neck, taking the cranium into its hand, and suddenly snapped its ugly red eyes at him while throwing the head at him, skidding to a halt at his feet. All he could say was, “What the hell?” and hoisted his screaming barrel in sync with the shadows movements. The bursts of light revealed it was the girl he was stalking. Carrie tried to run, but fell to the might of the air rippling projectiles. Her upper chest was almost completely riddled with holes which came and exited the back. Her carcass was literally smoking, when Victor began walking towards her prone form while ejecting and reloading a fresh clip. A snapping jostle later, he was upon her. Nudging the corpse before him with his nozzle to make sure it was dead, he spoke in confusion. “You were one nasty creature, I’ll give you that. What else do they have cooking up down here?” Prodding the body some more at a distance, he flipped it over on its back. Its hair had silvery highlights which gleamed now and then. He whistled in admiration at the almost human looking creature which caused them so much trouble. He’d have to tell the administration to remember to keep their pets house broken next time. “Oh well,” he smirked to himself, bending down with a hand shake gesture. “You were a worthy enemy.” A moment of contemplation, and a finger beneath his chin he added, “And cute too, in the scary kind of way.” Getting off his knees, he turned to regroup with the others. So being in the circumstances as it were, he missed the small smile on the thought-to- be-dead girl. So unfortunately, he also ironically, didn’t see the claws coming for his eyes. A flash later in the realm of nod, he was consumed in darkness. Tumbling, he screamed while he fell to the ground writhing. The man from what she could tell, had his eyes squeezed so tightly to block out the pain, the already haemorrhaged sockets were insisted to bleed more profusely like perspiration. Then a weight began pressing against his stomach. Both feet were at the side of his head. There were many more silver highlights in her hair now, testimony for her weakened state but not so much to be unable to do the deed. Too bad he couldn’t see the maddening smile gracing her lips. All too easy. She grinned devilishly. At what point had she come to enjoy violence? She had no idea, but she was sure it had started back on a cold day in Castlevania, near the town of Wallechia. At the though of her former master, her mind went drifting back to a memory of a past forgotten. -Flashback. . .- In the copse of the forest, were his creatures unmoving. Just beyond its clutches, Dracula stood on top of a majestic hill with her, staring down just a ways way at Wallechia. “Carrie, you know what tomorrow brings, do you not?” Carrie merely nodded, her cerulean hair tossed by the cold air. “The dead are going to be released from confinement, and purge this land.” She responded, staring down sorrowfully in the town that was lit up in the night. Dracula nodded then added eyes closed in reminiscence, “It will be gone by the next sunrise.” Carrie didn’t know how to respond to that statement so she remained silent, brooding over the concept and over letting him do this. Dracula merely chuckled at her silence and continued. “This town maybe insignificant, maybe trouble, but what’s left of the vermin which lurk within its resides, I shall entrust to you.” She turned her head to her master, “Is that your wish master?” He turned to face her and locked his gaze with hers. There was a long silence as the cold gale continued like a flat blade of ice all around them. “Consider it as a request. Do me this favour Carrie Fernandez.” Then his gaze lifted, and his eyes eased a bit too, delighted in the sheen of the silvery nightdress and relaxed a tad. It was a cold dark summer’s night after all; a blood red moon silhouetted a darkened sky of grey. There was something very luring about him now, which added to the sense of mystery. There are two sorts of curiosity; the momentary and the permanent. The momentary is concerned with the odd appearance on the surface of things. The permanent is attracted by the amazing and consecutive life that flows on beneath the surface of things. For her, it was only momentary but it did leave her lips. “What do you see when you look at the moon?” she asked, neutrally, though born of curiosity. He stood there not saying anything for a moment, and then wrenched his gaze from the sphere wonder to see her with his dark red eyes hidden beneath the shadows. “Hmm,” he began, unsure of how to respond to her innocent question, unsure if he should reveal some of his past, but finally replied, “Well, it’s like a memory to me. I, we used to march, me and my minions, long ago under a full moon just like this. One that would always be tainted with the blood of villagers or other warring groups. It was a death march, marching to the beat of the heart. Ah, I remember the bodies which piled, whole masses of streaming blood forming rivers, and it didn’t matter who’s was who, it was all the same. It was what it was, still blood. . . so much blood.” The thought seemed to flash in his eyes, in a way which she had never seen him so invigorated by a mere memory. She just silently watched him, always silent, always close. -End of Flashback- He never did make much sense, as whatever he said was always hard to comprehend at first. But now, with some of what words alone would be hard to describe, she believed she understood now. Whatever, it was arising within her now; rippling in waves of anticipation. . . She craved this sort of thing as much as blood sometimes. A creature of passions, that was what she was. Blood, violence and sex. . . she could control that last one, had always been able to, and she wasn’t physically capable; at least not that she knew of, but the other two seemed to get the better of her sometimes. It was just so easy to give into the temptress; the temptation personified. Too easy perhaps. . . “Victims-“she said darkly, lacing the other hand into the sheath of silver, “-aren’t we all.” She finished, stabbing the man through the throat. Wrenching the claws out, the protuberance left a nasty spurt of blood gurgling out his windpipe in a stormy sea. She then traveled to his chest, and wondered how thick was the armour, before experimenting by tearing through with little difficulty at the chest cavity; burying her fingers in her rib cage, she tore his heart apart, and then the lungs. Not quite thick enough. -Flashback- “Who are you?” a wise man once said, with greying hair and dimming eyes. Who it referred to was the silhouetted figure beneath a hood. A grin manifested beneath the shadowed creases and she spoke, “Is that how you treat a guest?” “Take your hood off and reveal yourself. We Transylvanians are at war with the Count and these are terrible times.” He sighed, the tiresome air of his breath of smog in ascension. More villagers gathered in a circle around her. “Very well.” Carrie granted him this one small request, to ease their minds. One hand stroke from front to back, the hood tailing with it. Her cerulean strands poured out and shaking it away from her vision, she brushed off the few which hindered her sights. The red orbs revealed themselves and instantly they were all on guard. “A demon!” one cried, “A vampire!” another, “Kill it!” a third. “And it only gets better,” she snaps her fingers and smiles sadly, “The master will be pleased.” Skeletal warriors burst from the soils, and quickly their empty sockets had an eerie spark of intelligence in them when they had decided on the enemy. The legions swarmed into the confusion. Turning her back towards them, she left her final notes to the humans fending for their lives. Humans were so weak in that regard. . . which came to associate with her own short comings. As they perished under hack and saw, right and left while she stood in the midst of it all, she came to discover humans were frighteningly fragile creatures. No matter how advanced modern medicine may be, humans can never escape death. There is a limit to what medicine and a doctor can do. But did she desire this? On some measure of level for this; a perfect physical form? Walking with a methodical grace, as though the slaughter was not happening around her, her mouth phrased the last sentence they would ever hear from her. “Prepare for the void.” And she disappeared like mist in the cool night breeze. ‘Yes, I did.’ Her thoughts ended. -End of Flashback- Before she knew it, it was already over. But the feelings she had once buried had resurfaced. There it lurked, her essence to kill. There she could fantasize the blood spilling from the walls, dripping from her hands. She could smell its intoxicating aroma coming off the walls; she could feel the tangible warm essence dripping down her finger tips. Licking them clean, she began draining the rest in great fanaticism. With it, the bloodlust within her was satisfied. The injuries she endured were bothering her greatly. When she finished, her strength had somewhat returned to her. She then held a finger to her lips for one last tentative lick. Her laboured breath was also slowed down by this time to small segments, as the dead tissue in her chest began mending itself back together at a speed that could be seen before her narrowed eyes. Running her hands through the tresses of her hair, she discovered that a few of the pale strands of milky streaks had returned to their azure splendour. Snaking the untamed coils behind her earlobe, her vision returned with crystal clarity. It stopped in hidden wonderment at the small clenching and unclenching hand she tested repeatedly. ‘So there is another way to replenish a vampire’s reserves. . .’ She had only been given the second life for roughly a year beforehand, and that would make her but an infant in vampire standards, and still unlocking the gifts bestowed upon her. Vlad should have mentioned the alternative source, but she didn’t blame him. Being as stubborn she was, she acknowledged, it wasn’t the most desirable prospect she would pursue. She took the new discovery with a grain of salt. Nothing really surprised her anymore. She had no qualms with feeding on the filths presented to her. Though the thought inhumane, she allowed herself to loosen her hold on the urges this time, and it in return inebriated her libido in anticipation. It was wrong to feel such sinful pleasure, but she had grown to understand and accept what she was. Cold, merciless, pitiless and heartless were what defined her now. -Flashback- “Master, they were only children. . .” “That’s right. I can kill them, because I’m a monster.” -End of Flashback- She shook her head to try and dispel the unpleasant memory, but it would not be denied. It made her realize something she would not wish to admit. ‘I am a monster. . .’ and it is because she was a monster, that she could do just that. Rounding her vision all over the interiors, she scanned the placements of various doors and sharp turns which stretched beyond her vision. That wouldn’t do. . . Therein lays a problem, if you were familiar with this line of work. If anything, she had learned that the most convenient means were always layered in traps, which denounced the element of surprise. Shaking her head, she began a light stroll aimlessly in the shadows. Scanning a bit more; impetuous of what she was looking for, there was an open ventilation shaft next to a wall which she almost missed, and a gleam came to her eye. Crouching for a better inspection, she found with her own petite frame, she would be able to squirm her way around. Crawling on all fours, she found it seemed to whirl in all directions, much to her delight. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------- Simply one foot after another, the man in question came closer to his destination. Upon reaching the foundation, all nine soldiers saluted him respectfully. Some phased a bit when he removed his glasses to clean them with a wash cloth from his pocket. He smirked, as they should be. He was very unhappy with the way things were progressing after all, and he gave no attempt to hide his scowl. Adding to the effect with his slightly abnormal reptilian eyes and its unsettling yellowish hue, who wouldn’t be? “What is the situation?” he directed at them. “Still searching sir.” One stood up front. Again, the visors made him featureless; just the red steady phosphorescence returning his luminous gaze. “Nothing yet?” motionlessly, emotionlessly he asked. “They’ve been very dissuading and slippery.” “So it would seem,” he said sarcastically, with a hollow laugh. “Well, I guess it’s a game of hide-and-seek then.” In the end, it always ended up as another game of cat and mouse. Heavy rustling lead his attention to another source, which was two of the grunts returning with a wounded police officer in the standard S.T.A.R.S uniform arm-in-arm. The officer in question had short, light brownish hair and bangs covering his eyes. A small smile crept to his lips. The candidates of A.R.M.S (Assault Recon Mobile Squadron) may not be a total waste of resources after all. Nope, it never crossed his mind. If it did, then they have redeemed themselves at finally producing results. “What do we have here?” Crouching from his imposing height, the hem of his suit barely above the ground, he lifted the man’s chin for a good look. The dawning of realization of who this man was apart of was enough to lift his spirits a tad bit. “This changes everything. . .” He roused to his feet, tipping his hat announcing, “I have a plan.” ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------- Two hours later. . . in the holding cells. Vlad crossed his right arm over his left stretching it a little. Then he shifted in his chair allowing his elbows to fall on the table and his head in his hands, eliciting a creek in the old bark throughout the crisp movements. His wounds were now lacking. Staring idly at the girl of red, he started speaking sternly. “They will be coming soon, Claire. Do not hesitate, or think, just kill first and ask questions if you want after their dead.” Side glancing her pistols in two dimensions, she rechecked her fresh magazine then reloaded the chamber of a SIG- Sauer P228 before readjusting her sights in her other hand. She had dispensed her old ones for them with as they fit so much better in her palms without knowing that they were world-class, reliable, accurate, ergonomic and easily controllable and you couldn’t get one much better. These used to belong to the enemy, but they wouldn’t miss it at all since they were already dead. Then she retorted, “And how do I prey tell, accomplish that?” “When you’re too busy killing the them to survive, you won’t have time to think.” “I hope you’re right.” Claire said less sure of herself as she pulled on a pair of tight, black fingerless gloves, and slipped her SIGs into its own designated holster around her waist. Strapping fresh clips into each satchel which hung from a shoulder strap to the thigh, she looked somewhat like a stereo typical hit man from a movie or a video game; only she wasn’t a guy and she wasn’t wearing a suit. “Just think of it this way; it’s either you or them. Think of them as the evil within the hearts of man. Think of them as evil in any other form. Think of them not as human beings, but murderers of their own kin.” “But wouldn’t I be a murderer too for killing them?” she spoke uncertainly, but not like she wouldn’t do it if she needed to. Raising a finger to his lips, he recalled an old saying from the past which would work fine along these lines. “It isn’t murder if it’s self defence and it has never been called murder in times of war. So certainly it should also be said,” He gave a small laugh before returning his gaze at her, finishing the lecture. “it isn’t murder if it isn’t human, Right?” A little startled, she still murmured her reply without actually totally acknowledging them. “Right. . .” Looking up the stairs which ascended to the upper level and faded beyond the narrow opening, he had a moment of quiet. It was the calm before the storm, and beyond those iron entrapments which separated them, was the crescendo of the hearts of man. “And so begins another chapter of blood.” ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------- Authors Notes: Updating slow as usual.