Ancient Sectrets
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Ancient Sectrets
alien 3/3/2008, 1:17 am
Chapter One
Shadows
“Such a beautiful night,” he said silently, walking down a beaten dirt road observing the foliage, alone and in the dark, “it’d be a shame to see it wasted.” Long had this fellow wasted the time he was allowed to roam on trivial matters, such as murder and revenge, greed, self centered concerns where no one but he had anything to gain. Of course, this night would not differ from the norm, but he would spend his time pursuing health and accomplishment instead of greed and anger, and vengeance. He swore it not only to him, but to the one whom he was to protect, that one soul that kept him going through dark, light, thick and thin, moon or no moon, hell or high water. He would no longer walk the lonely road of the forgotten traitor, the simple minded fool whose only reason to live was to hate. From this point on, he was to care. He was to love.
He was to live.
But his stalker would not hear, for these words to him were mute. Alone, he was the most vulnerable target in the night’s sky, under the moon and walking a path easily followed by a blind man, let alone a highly skilled, extremely efficient and well-trained assassin in the employ of one of the world’s most nefarious crime lords. This person, this man who would walk and ponder, and think of reform, was a weak hearted fool, a simple minded moron who would fall to his hatred as soon as it fell to him. He had little or no control, for he was not human, this the assassin knew, and that the sooner he was gone the better, not just for his employer but for all of mankind. This creature, this wretched beast, an empty shadow of a human whose purpose in life was to take and give nothing back was to be punished for his sins against the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost. He was to no longer walk this world as a sinner, a defiler of the will of the heavens; he was to be placed in his only belonging location, the darkest, deepest most painful lakes of lava deep within the dark recesses of the seventh layer of hell.
As he thought this, the man in the bushes raised his long, rather weighted rifle, and through a high-powered scope with a range of up to 1,000 meters looked down upon the target, walking down a dirt road in the middle of a forest thick and laden with foliage, from the high tops of a cliff covered in similar brush. Blended perfectly, he knew that the smell of his blood would keep him hidden, as it would be suppressed by the surrounding brush and deep dirt which he himself had situated himself upon.
As he looked down upon his target, he uttered the prayer of his employers, rubbing a thumb and finger against a cross that hanged around his thin, lanky neck as he did so.
“In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, may this soul find peace and belonging in the afterlife, and may his death be purer than his life was. Amen.”
His finger flexed to pull the trigger, but as soon as he fired, he realized the target had gone. No longer was it in his sight, and behind him he heard a voice that both excited and frightened him.
“Wretched human, you don’t deserve to even look at me as I kill you!”
And before he could indeed look, he had been shot through the back once and in the head twice. Lavin kicked the body down the cliff, and as it bumped its way and rattled down the side, a small avalanche of pebbles followed.
The figure behind him, wearing a red winter vest, a black shirt and blue jeans, put his weapon back in his pocket and reached for his belt, which had a communicator device attached. He withdrew the small, black Motorola phone and flipped it open.
“This is Lavin. Target location confirmed, enemy destroyed. I suggest that you bring down a clean up crew…he had a rather nasty spill down the mountain.”
“I thought we told you to be more careful, Lavin?”
“When you bring an ex-serial killer into your occult, expect a little sadism on my part.”
“Right.”
“Anyway, I’ll be off to my own devices now. Keep my bed made while I’m gone.”
“Don’t worry, she won’t sneak in again.”
“She’d @#$* better not. Lavin out.”
The one who made these silent promises to himself as he walked down the road, he was not Lavin. Merely a decoy, created by the priest’s mind, he was hunting an imaginary figment, one who would not breathe, one who would not eat, only one who would function as the priest imagined. He was false in both his convictions and existence, and the priest was more easily tricked than Lavin was ready to believe. This wretched beast, this so called servant of Christ, God and the Holy ghost was nothing more than a pretender. He walked away from the body, and as he did so he spat at the name Christ. He, the @#$* was to not be accepted into the fold of the loved humans. He was nothing more than an empty shell.
He, and all others like him were shadows, and like the moon, they functioned in the shadows of the light.
Chapter Two
The House of Nine
She cursed the deities of the heavens, and spat the liquid upon the ground.
“I refuse to drink the blood of my own kind!”
“But Sabrina, if you don’t drink you will become weak, and won’t be able to move!”
“Is this what I’ve become, Xeldon? Is this what I’ve become? A murderer, someone who steals from others, and leeches off of their blood and very life to survive? I refuse to be associated with an inhuman monster!”
“Associated? Sabrina, you are one! You had a choice, and you made this one of your own free will, so now it is you who must live with the consequences of that choice. Like it or not, you are no longer among the human beings or race, you are a monster-“
“NO! I will NOT become a taker!”
“But Sabrina-“
“NO!” She tore herself away from Xeldon’s grip. Long had Sabrina wished for immortality, but little did she want to have to take life to get it. She was unlike most who chose to willingly turn, in that she had value for the life she gave up, and understood why some people did not wish to surrender their life style. Those who were asked, and turned it down naturally were made out to be insane, but they lived obscure lives and so it was of little consequence when an outsider found House of Nine or its patron’s true reasons and identities.
As she ran through the large, vaunted brick doors which protected her and her brethren from the light around them, she disappeared into darkness, tears running down her angular face right down to her tiny jaw, her blue eyes of ocean turned into blue eyes of misery and torment.
As she ran, she wondered how she’d came to her decision. She remembered the night it was made, and was saddened that, in the circumstances she was under she made such a choice. She remembered vividly…
Dust was thick in the air, as thick as blood and twice as dank. When walking upon the stony ground of this old, abandoned model to the ancient ways of the vampire, ancient memories of things he could not define, place or want to remember. He was a soul who was as lost in his own path as he was blinded to it. When he tried to find his way, his efforts were met with futility. And so, after trying for so long, Lavin had surrendered studying his past, and instead focused on the past of others.
Thinking about these things, Lavin walked throughout the stone monastery silently, the echo of his footsteps keeping him company every second of his trip through the establishment to religions long since past. Lavin had been assigned by the House of Nine to search a suspected Vampire cave near their location, and he was halfway through thusfar. While his trip revealed no vampires yet, he had found some rather interesting sights that he meant to see again.
“My, my, my….such an old, decrepit place,” he said silently, walking through the darkness of the temple, looking at everything in sight for some sign of vampirism. When, from the quiet corners of the cave erupted a tiny cry. It was a cry, a cry that reminded him of a child that had been lost in a toy-store and was crying because it was lonely. When he heard this cry, he could see with his ears the location that it erupted from.
Walking at a slightly faster pace than his previous interloping, he began to walk towards a small tunnel inside the catacombs of a tomb long since past. He walked faster as he heard the cry get louder, and then he saw what he had heard: in the corner of one of the catacombic rooms used to sleep in, a young woman was crying.
“Little girl, what are you doing here?” Lavin asked with little care or concern. The way he asked made her think that she was not welcome.
“I don’t know…” she replied, exhausted.
“I just know that I’m here and that I don’t know what I am supposed to do with myself…”
“Little girl, how did you get here?”
“I don’t know, sir…”
He bent down to examine her, as Lavin detected she was not entirely......well. As he searched her body for wounds, or injuries our other things that could tell of her weakness, he found it at last. She had been bitten by a vampire, and had her blood almost completely drained. She would die if she did not feed immediately.
“Little girl, you realize what these marks upon your neck are?” Lavin rubbed the wound on her neck with two fingers.
“No….”
“Well, this is a vampire bite, little girl. You have been drained of your blood and left to die, and if you do not get blood soon, then you will surely die.”
“Wha…where will I get blood?” She asked with a diminished strength and tolerance for being alive.
“Do you have a name, little girl?”
“Sa…Sabrina..”
“Sabrina. Such a nice name,” he said looking down upon her, holding one hand in his.
“Sabrina…do you want to live?”
“Yes…”
“Then you must feed.”
She looked up at him with surprise.
“Feed..?”
“Drink my blood.”
“Drink your blood?”
“Yes. Drinking from me will not only provide you with life, but lengthen that life as well. You alone will be responsible for your choice to become this creature, should you choose it. Do you wish to live?
Do you wish to have immortality..?”
“Please help me…”
“I take that as a yes.”
Lavin bit himself on his wrist, penetrating into a major artery.
He held the bleeding arm up to her.
“Feed, Sabrina…”
“Sabrina! Come back!” Xeldon awoke her from her daydream as she continued to run. He stood there, in his black camouflage military uniform, the insignia of the House of Nine on his shoulder, hands on hips worrying about one of their newest members.
“Let him go, Xeldon.” A man in a business uniform carrying a briefcase walked up behind him.
“She must find her own path through the darkness that she has brought onto herself. Do not try to hold her hand.” He pulled out a cigar, and lit it with a snap of his fingers.
“Besides, you have more important things to worry about, anyway. The Vatican’s soldiers are becoming harder and harder to hunt and kill, and every day more and more of the scum are traveling all the way from Rome to come and hunt us. Soon there will be open war, if we can’t contain this vampiric threat that the so few who are ruined must perpetrate.”
He blew a puff of smoke in front of him as he walked up to Xeldon’s side.
“Besides, you know better than I do what she’s going through.”
“That I do, indeed.”
As Roberts, the man in the business suit turned and walked away, he said something under his breath that Xeldon could barely register.
“Meeting in an hour. Do try to show up on time.”
Sabrina finally stopped her running just a mile away from the House of Nine, the headquarters of the House of Nine. She was not ready to accept the choice she impulsively made, the decision to become a taker of life and burglar of blood. As she finally stopped, she fell to the ground on her knees, and began to sob to herself silently, muttering to herself.
“Why…” she sobbed, “why must I be so inhuman? I wanted to live, not take life…” she continued to cry to herself silently. She looked down at her hands; they were turning pale white now.
“What’s wrong with my color?!” She screamed and cried, looking up to the heavans for an answer. Instead of god replying she instead got an answer from a new friend.
“You’re weakening, Sabrina.”
She looked upwards from her solemn position to see Lavin right in front of her, his massive army boots and black trenchcoat illuminated by the moon and stars above the treetops of the forest. He looked down at her with normal glasses on, rather rectangular in their shape, and took a step toward her.
“I told you that you would be the only one to blame should you choose this path,” he continued, “and now that you’ve chosen it you must live with the consequences. You cannot die by depriving yourself of blood. Instead, you will slowly weaken so that something as simple as the common cold will kill you. We, as vampires rely on blood to keep us healthy, active and strong. Depriving yourself of blood is like choosing not to eat or drink; the hunger will eventually set in. Only until you quench your thirst will you find peace. So accept your fate as a taker, and know that as much as you take you will give doubly back to both your own kind and the human race. Now,” Lavin outstretched his right hand, which was not difficult to see as it was in a white half finger glove.
“Take my hand, and I will show you a path through the darkness.”
Her sobbing stopped by his diatribe, she looked up at him, thinking for a minute. “These people must really want me,” she thought silently. “But why? Who would want me to be part of them? I’m inexperienced and weak, I’ll weigh them down….” her thoughts trail off as she knew it had been almost a minute since he asked the question. Looking up, her answer was a question.
“How can I trust you?”
“Sabrina,” he said, his hand still outstretched, “you already showed trust when you turned into a vampire.”
She looked up at him, tears in her eyes, and found peace in his gaze, knowing that while they were not known to each other, she knew him better than anything at the same time. Like a pillar of support for a temple in ancient Greece, Sabrina looked to Lavin like he was to help her stand on her own ground. She thought, “this man is my only hope for survival in this new world”, and as she did so, she realized that he was doing the right thing, and she should return the favor by accepting his act. His hand was outstretched, and reluctantly, her long slender fingers grasped it.
“Good…now….rest.”
She felt her eyes descend upon her like the heaviest of weights, and in a moment’s notice she was adrift in a sea of exhaustion.
Shadows
“Such a beautiful night,” he said silently, walking down a beaten dirt road observing the foliage, alone and in the dark, “it’d be a shame to see it wasted.” Long had this fellow wasted the time he was allowed to roam on trivial matters, such as murder and revenge, greed, self centered concerns where no one but he had anything to gain. Of course, this night would not differ from the norm, but he would spend his time pursuing health and accomplishment instead of greed and anger, and vengeance. He swore it not only to him, but to the one whom he was to protect, that one soul that kept him going through dark, light, thick and thin, moon or no moon, hell or high water. He would no longer walk the lonely road of the forgotten traitor, the simple minded fool whose only reason to live was to hate. From this point on, he was to care. He was to love.
He was to live.
But his stalker would not hear, for these words to him were mute. Alone, he was the most vulnerable target in the night’s sky, under the moon and walking a path easily followed by a blind man, let alone a highly skilled, extremely efficient and well-trained assassin in the employ of one of the world’s most nefarious crime lords. This person, this man who would walk and ponder, and think of reform, was a weak hearted fool, a simple minded moron who would fall to his hatred as soon as it fell to him. He had little or no control, for he was not human, this the assassin knew, and that the sooner he was gone the better, not just for his employer but for all of mankind. This creature, this wretched beast, an empty shadow of a human whose purpose in life was to take and give nothing back was to be punished for his sins against the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost. He was to no longer walk this world as a sinner, a defiler of the will of the heavens; he was to be placed in his only belonging location, the darkest, deepest most painful lakes of lava deep within the dark recesses of the seventh layer of hell.
As he thought this, the man in the bushes raised his long, rather weighted rifle, and through a high-powered scope with a range of up to 1,000 meters looked down upon the target, walking down a dirt road in the middle of a forest thick and laden with foliage, from the high tops of a cliff covered in similar brush. Blended perfectly, he knew that the smell of his blood would keep him hidden, as it would be suppressed by the surrounding brush and deep dirt which he himself had situated himself upon.
As he looked down upon his target, he uttered the prayer of his employers, rubbing a thumb and finger against a cross that hanged around his thin, lanky neck as he did so.
“In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, may this soul find peace and belonging in the afterlife, and may his death be purer than his life was. Amen.”
His finger flexed to pull the trigger, but as soon as he fired, he realized the target had gone. No longer was it in his sight, and behind him he heard a voice that both excited and frightened him.
“Wretched human, you don’t deserve to even look at me as I kill you!”
And before he could indeed look, he had been shot through the back once and in the head twice. Lavin kicked the body down the cliff, and as it bumped its way and rattled down the side, a small avalanche of pebbles followed.
The figure behind him, wearing a red winter vest, a black shirt and blue jeans, put his weapon back in his pocket and reached for his belt, which had a communicator device attached. He withdrew the small, black Motorola phone and flipped it open.
“This is Lavin. Target location confirmed, enemy destroyed. I suggest that you bring down a clean up crew…he had a rather nasty spill down the mountain.”
“I thought we told you to be more careful, Lavin?”
“When you bring an ex-serial killer into your occult, expect a little sadism on my part.”
“Right.”
“Anyway, I’ll be off to my own devices now. Keep my bed made while I’m gone.”
“Don’t worry, she won’t sneak in again.”
“She’d @#$* better not. Lavin out.”
The one who made these silent promises to himself as he walked down the road, he was not Lavin. Merely a decoy, created by the priest’s mind, he was hunting an imaginary figment, one who would not breathe, one who would not eat, only one who would function as the priest imagined. He was false in both his convictions and existence, and the priest was more easily tricked than Lavin was ready to believe. This wretched beast, this so called servant of Christ, God and the Holy ghost was nothing more than a pretender. He walked away from the body, and as he did so he spat at the name Christ. He, the @#$* was to not be accepted into the fold of the loved humans. He was nothing more than an empty shell.
He, and all others like him were shadows, and like the moon, they functioned in the shadows of the light.
Chapter Two
The House of Nine
She cursed the deities of the heavens, and spat the liquid upon the ground.
“I refuse to drink the blood of my own kind!”
“But Sabrina, if you don’t drink you will become weak, and won’t be able to move!”
“Is this what I’ve become, Xeldon? Is this what I’ve become? A murderer, someone who steals from others, and leeches off of their blood and very life to survive? I refuse to be associated with an inhuman monster!”
“Associated? Sabrina, you are one! You had a choice, and you made this one of your own free will, so now it is you who must live with the consequences of that choice. Like it or not, you are no longer among the human beings or race, you are a monster-“
“NO! I will NOT become a taker!”
“But Sabrina-“
“NO!” She tore herself away from Xeldon’s grip. Long had Sabrina wished for immortality, but little did she want to have to take life to get it. She was unlike most who chose to willingly turn, in that she had value for the life she gave up, and understood why some people did not wish to surrender their life style. Those who were asked, and turned it down naturally were made out to be insane, but they lived obscure lives and so it was of little consequence when an outsider found House of Nine or its patron’s true reasons and identities.
As she ran through the large, vaunted brick doors which protected her and her brethren from the light around them, she disappeared into darkness, tears running down her angular face right down to her tiny jaw, her blue eyes of ocean turned into blue eyes of misery and torment.
As she ran, she wondered how she’d came to her decision. She remembered the night it was made, and was saddened that, in the circumstances she was under she made such a choice. She remembered vividly…
Dust was thick in the air, as thick as blood and twice as dank. When walking upon the stony ground of this old, abandoned model to the ancient ways of the vampire, ancient memories of things he could not define, place or want to remember. He was a soul who was as lost in his own path as he was blinded to it. When he tried to find his way, his efforts were met with futility. And so, after trying for so long, Lavin had surrendered studying his past, and instead focused on the past of others.
Thinking about these things, Lavin walked throughout the stone monastery silently, the echo of his footsteps keeping him company every second of his trip through the establishment to religions long since past. Lavin had been assigned by the House of Nine to search a suspected Vampire cave near their location, and he was halfway through thusfar. While his trip revealed no vampires yet, he had found some rather interesting sights that he meant to see again.
“My, my, my….such an old, decrepit place,” he said silently, walking through the darkness of the temple, looking at everything in sight for some sign of vampirism. When, from the quiet corners of the cave erupted a tiny cry. It was a cry, a cry that reminded him of a child that had been lost in a toy-store and was crying because it was lonely. When he heard this cry, he could see with his ears the location that it erupted from.
Walking at a slightly faster pace than his previous interloping, he began to walk towards a small tunnel inside the catacombs of a tomb long since past. He walked faster as he heard the cry get louder, and then he saw what he had heard: in the corner of one of the catacombic rooms used to sleep in, a young woman was crying.
“Little girl, what are you doing here?” Lavin asked with little care or concern. The way he asked made her think that she was not welcome.
“I don’t know…” she replied, exhausted.
“I just know that I’m here and that I don’t know what I am supposed to do with myself…”
“Little girl, how did you get here?”
“I don’t know, sir…”
He bent down to examine her, as Lavin detected she was not entirely......well. As he searched her body for wounds, or injuries our other things that could tell of her weakness, he found it at last. She had been bitten by a vampire, and had her blood almost completely drained. She would die if she did not feed immediately.
“Little girl, you realize what these marks upon your neck are?” Lavin rubbed the wound on her neck with two fingers.
“No….”
“Well, this is a vampire bite, little girl. You have been drained of your blood and left to die, and if you do not get blood soon, then you will surely die.”
“Wha…where will I get blood?” She asked with a diminished strength and tolerance for being alive.
“Do you have a name, little girl?”
“Sa…Sabrina..”
“Sabrina. Such a nice name,” he said looking down upon her, holding one hand in his.
“Sabrina…do you want to live?”
“Yes…”
“Then you must feed.”
She looked up at him with surprise.
“Feed..?”
“Drink my blood.”
“Drink your blood?”
“Yes. Drinking from me will not only provide you with life, but lengthen that life as well. You alone will be responsible for your choice to become this creature, should you choose it. Do you wish to live?
Do you wish to have immortality..?”
“Please help me…”
“I take that as a yes.”
Lavin bit himself on his wrist, penetrating into a major artery.
He held the bleeding arm up to her.
“Feed, Sabrina…”
“Sabrina! Come back!” Xeldon awoke her from her daydream as she continued to run. He stood there, in his black camouflage military uniform, the insignia of the House of Nine on his shoulder, hands on hips worrying about one of their newest members.
“Let him go, Xeldon.” A man in a business uniform carrying a briefcase walked up behind him.
“She must find her own path through the darkness that she has brought onto herself. Do not try to hold her hand.” He pulled out a cigar, and lit it with a snap of his fingers.
“Besides, you have more important things to worry about, anyway. The Vatican’s soldiers are becoming harder and harder to hunt and kill, and every day more and more of the scum are traveling all the way from Rome to come and hunt us. Soon there will be open war, if we can’t contain this vampiric threat that the so few who are ruined must perpetrate.”
He blew a puff of smoke in front of him as he walked up to Xeldon’s side.
“Besides, you know better than I do what she’s going through.”
“That I do, indeed.”
As Roberts, the man in the business suit turned and walked away, he said something under his breath that Xeldon could barely register.
“Meeting in an hour. Do try to show up on time.”
Sabrina finally stopped her running just a mile away from the House of Nine, the headquarters of the House of Nine. She was not ready to accept the choice she impulsively made, the decision to become a taker of life and burglar of blood. As she finally stopped, she fell to the ground on her knees, and began to sob to herself silently, muttering to herself.
“Why…” she sobbed, “why must I be so inhuman? I wanted to live, not take life…” she continued to cry to herself silently. She looked down at her hands; they were turning pale white now.
“What’s wrong with my color?!” She screamed and cried, looking up to the heavans for an answer. Instead of god replying she instead got an answer from a new friend.
“You’re weakening, Sabrina.”
She looked upwards from her solemn position to see Lavin right in front of her, his massive army boots and black trenchcoat illuminated by the moon and stars above the treetops of the forest. He looked down at her with normal glasses on, rather rectangular in their shape, and took a step toward her.
“I told you that you would be the only one to blame should you choose this path,” he continued, “and now that you’ve chosen it you must live with the consequences. You cannot die by depriving yourself of blood. Instead, you will slowly weaken so that something as simple as the common cold will kill you. We, as vampires rely on blood to keep us healthy, active and strong. Depriving yourself of blood is like choosing not to eat or drink; the hunger will eventually set in. Only until you quench your thirst will you find peace. So accept your fate as a taker, and know that as much as you take you will give doubly back to both your own kind and the human race. Now,” Lavin outstretched his right hand, which was not difficult to see as it was in a white half finger glove.
“Take my hand, and I will show you a path through the darkness.”
Her sobbing stopped by his diatribe, she looked up at him, thinking for a minute. “These people must really want me,” she thought silently. “But why? Who would want me to be part of them? I’m inexperienced and weak, I’ll weigh them down….” her thoughts trail off as she knew it had been almost a minute since he asked the question. Looking up, her answer was a question.
“How can I trust you?”
“Sabrina,” he said, his hand still outstretched, “you already showed trust when you turned into a vampire.”
She looked up at him, tears in her eyes, and found peace in his gaze, knowing that while they were not known to each other, she knew him better than anything at the same time. Like a pillar of support for a temple in ancient Greece, Sabrina looked to Lavin like he was to help her stand on her own ground. She thought, “this man is my only hope for survival in this new world”, and as she did so, she realized that he was doing the right thing, and she should return the favor by accepting his act. His hand was outstretched, and reluctantly, her long slender fingers grasped it.
“Good…now….rest.”
She felt her eyes descend upon her like the heaviest of weights, and in a moment’s notice she was adrift in a sea of exhaustion.
alien- Senior Moderator
- Posts : 140
Join date : 2008-01-21
Age : 33
Location : in the asgard sector
Re: Ancient Sectrets
alien 3/3/2008, 1:18 am
==========================
“This official meeting of the House of Nine is now in session, and this time, it is not a pleasant proceeding.” Roberts blew cigar smoke directly in front of him before saying this, and is it did, a small cloud formed in the midst of the dimly lighted room with wall-to-wall carpeting and black walls. It was dark, because humans were not completely blind in dim light, yet in dim darkness vampires would take twenty minutes to adjust. As his cigar ran out, Roberts shoved it down onto the table’s ashtray with a large *THUMP*, and proceeded to get another one out and light it while he stood.
“When is it ever a pleasant proceeding?” Xeldon asked sarcastically.
“Shutup!” Yelled a Pelign from the table. He was not pleased with being awaken at nearly 12 AM to be called to a meeting.
“Enough.”
Roberts interrupted their short argument and forced them to listen, as he madly chewed the end of his fine Cuban cigar.
“Tonight is business. Please, direct your attention to the monitor behind me.” He grabbed a streamlined silver remote, and soon the plasma screen behind him began playing a series of images, most of them of men who were hidden in the shadows, un-seeable without excellent night vision.
“As you know, the attacks upon vampires are becoming more and more common, and those who attack us are becoming much more organized.” He flipped to the image of the priest Lavin murdered not many hours before their meeting; his body was only recognizable due to his costume. Lavin had redefined the word overkill in this case.
“This priest was killed not too far from here, in the country. We were relatively certain he was a lonely psycho, working for his own gain. Until, that is…” he switched to an enhanced photograph of the priest, the Television zoom in on his neck. A tattoo of a ‘V’ inside of a ‘D’ was displayed on the back of the neck, in dark and sharp font.
“This is the second time we’ve found those markings on the corpse of a human. It cannot be coincidence, gentlemen that both men were killers, and both were hunting vampires. I believe that a vampire hunting organization has situated itself somewhere near the House of Nine.”
“Nonesense!” Scoffed Xeldon as he boldy drank from a large cup of tea. Green Tea, which was of course drunken liberally and without abandon or sugar. An old man, Xeldon appeared to be in his late fifties, and carried on conversations much like he was the authority. It was not hard to say he was, as he wore a business suit complete with Tie and vest, and had been the founder of The House of Nine.
“The last time a vampire hunting organization was anywhere near here was almost 500 years ago, and they were all but eradicated! Vampire hunting organization, hmmph.” He sharply dismissed what he saw as a ridiculous claim by a young, weak-minded fool.
“Then I suppose you have a better explanation for this strange markings?” Roberts inquired, turning everyone’s attention to Xeldon.
“Mere coincidence.” He timidly drank his tea, as though he was trying to hide in the pool of calming liquid.
“And how about the clothes? Did you not notice both corpses mentioned were wearing similar garments, namely, white trench-coats and crosses?”
Setting down his tea, Xeldon picked up a small napkin and daintily wiped his mouth clean, acting as though his personal hygiene was more important than the light from the sun. Setting down the napkin, he returned to an impatient Roberts and a lost battle with simply a comment meant to antagonize Roberts’ already meandering and enraged disposition.
“Perhaps Anti-Goth is a new fad.”
“You know, this bickering will get us nowhere.” Lavin appeared out of almost nowhere, in a corner near the TV, interjecting as though the humans around him were mere children fighting over a toy at Christmas. Pushing his rectangular glasses upward on the bridge of his nose with one finger, he leaned against the wall, one foot on it just below his back, his arms crossed.
“We should concentrate on where our enemies are, not what they are.”
“Well made point,” Roberts said sharply to Xeldon, as though Lavin was taking sides, which he wasn’t, “well made indeed. Now then, we are still uncertain as to whether or not these markings indicate vampire hunters, but,” he looked at Xeldon with a furrowed brow and said sharply, “we’re using common sense here. They wear the same clothes, they use the same equipment, have the same tattoo, and most importantly, they hunt vampires. That’s all that this House needs to know.” Roberts dashed another cigar butt and approached Lavin.
“And that’s all you need to know, too. Load up, find this VD gang, and then inform the order of its whereabouts as soon as it’s located. We’ll dispatch an experienced team to deal with the situation.” He returned to the head of the oak table, and picked up a vanilla file folder. Handing it to Lavin, he whispered quietly to his vampire companion, “last scene of Vampire activity was near the Docks area. You should start your search there. More information will be in your folder.”
He returned to the table, sat in his chair, and swiveled around, getting the last word in:
“Dismissed.”
Chapter Three: Domestic Disturbance
She did not know where she was, and for all intents and purposes, to her, it didn’t much matter. She was in a dark, cold room, in what appeared to be a concealed case filled with blankets, and even pillows. The mattress she was sleeping upon was soft, and moving on it was like swimming in tranquility. She was tempted to go back to sleep, when she remembered that she did not know where she was, and for all intents and purposes, it mattered very suddenly. She screamed a small shriek, and hit the top of her container, sending her fist flying through it.
“Woah!” She marveled at her own strength, and wondered if this wasn’t a dream. Sabrina removed the hand from the lid and shoved it off the top of her, and in a moment’s notice she was greeted by the rising moon and the glare of the stars above her, staring at the small opening in her roof, a sort of automated sunroof. She looked around, and her room was not much to look at; it was merely a ugly, brown carpet, with stone walls, and stone ceiling with a table in the middle, and on the table sat a small bottle of what looked to her to be red wine. Sabrina grabbed the bottle, knowing that nothing would relive her stressed state more than a nice glass of alcohol, and poured into the glass. She then began to drink deeply from the glass, and as she did so, noted the strange manner in which the liquid flowed from the glass. It was more viscous than wine, and it had a decidedly sharper edge to the taste, as though it was many ingredients mixed into one bland mold of liquid. She drank half of it, then realized what she was drinking, and spat it upon the carpet.
She had inadvertently drunken blood. Disgusted she threw the wine glass across the room, and as it broke and fell to the floor, glass flying nearly two feet away from it’s point of impact, she heard footsteps approaching.
Her door burst open, and a man armed with a rifle and full camouflague appeared in the doorway, a radio on his belt.
“Miss?” He said urgently.
“Is something the matter?”
“Not at all, thank you….Mr…”
“Gates. Phillip Gates, Miss. I’m the head of security ‘ere at the House of Nine, and I’ve been entrusted with your care for a few days. Just checking up on you.” The man had a thick British accent, although Sabrina didn’t seem to notice. She stared at him for a minute, and after that minute of awkward silence, the man finally broke it.
“Nice t’ meet you, Miss. Please, if you need my ‘elp, just give a hollah and I’ll be right there. ‘Ave a good night, Miss.”
“My name’s Sabrina,” she stated matter-of-factly.
“Nice t’ meet you, Sabrina. ‘Ave a good night!”
“Good night.”
He closed the door behind him, and as soon as he did, she blushed at how awkward she acted.
“I treated him like I was a horny schoolgirl eyeing the all-star football player..” she thought silently.
For a minute, she pondered what about men with guns and uniform attracted her. Dismissing the thoughts, she turned to the mess at hand.
“I wonder if there’s anything here that’ll get blood out of the carpet,” she said, turning to the bathroom.
Harbor
Location Unknown
Time: 0400
Order.
That’s what was brought about these days. Everyone was obsessed with order, it seemed, so much so that they even have to make organizations called “The House Of Nine”, a group of vigilantes in trench-coats who went around killing people. Brutis spat upon the ground, keeping himself from throwing up as he thought of it.
“Makes me sick. Lot of cannibals.”
While not the most crucial of jobs, Brutis enjoyed it all the same. The hours were good, namely, sundown to sunrise, and he was paid extremely well. Not only that, but he finally found a job where his brawn mattered more than his noticeable lack of brains. He was quite pleased with his post in his work place, which was of course, body guard.
He reached a gloved hand into his pocket and pulled out a cigarette, then proceeded to light it with a cupped hand.
Brutis blew the smoke into the night’s sky.
“What a beautiful sight, the sea”, He said almost sadly.
“I hope you enjoy sleeping in it.” A voice behind him replied.
“What the-“ The *click* of a silenced .45 magnum caused his head to recoil back as a bullet pierced his nearly non-existent brain.
“Scum.” Lavin kicked the body into the ocean with one well placed crotch kick. He did not make a loud splash, but he still regretted kicking it so hard that it flew thirty feet in the air. As it landed, his hair stood on end. He quickly returned from tense to relaxed.
“No matter. Humans cannot hear it.”
“Humans? Who do you think you’re messing with, Lavin?”
His eyes widened and he turned around to stare at the person who replied. It was a man in a white trench-coat with a white cross, white gloves, black mop-head hair and glasses, who had a pistol aimed right for his forehead and appeared to be in his thirties. The full-moon above him illuminated his trench-coat as though he was in the spotlight at a brodway play.
“Remember me, Lavin?”
“I’ve never met you before in my life, and I don’t wish to get to know you.” Lavin reached for his gun, but a gunshot ripped through his shoulder. As the recoil sent him back an inch, his shoulder twisted obscenely and violently, and he returned his attention to his new enemy.
“Who the hell are you,” thought Lavin as he studied the character.
As though this character could read minds, his next reply would be vague yet addressing.
“Oh come now, Lavin, you’re saying you don’t remember Matthias? Good old brother Matthias?”
“Foolish human. You should know better than to mess with a vampire!” At superhuman speed, Lavin withdrew his pistol and fired three shots, all of which hit the priest in the head. He fell forwards after the recoil, and he landed, his eyes still open and looking straight at Lavin. As the body stopped twitching, Lavin put his pistol back in his innermost pocket near his body in the trench-coat.
“Good old dead brother Matthias.”
He walked over to the corpse, and flipped it over, noting the same markings as on the other two corpses.
“This is definitely the right place.” He disappeared into the night, but as he did, the corpse behind him began to move, and pushed itself up with two arms.
“But it’s not the right time,” Matthias uttered under his breath sinisterly, as he rose from the ground.
The House of Nine
0400
Xeldon’s Private Quarters
“Sherlock Holmes will always live on as the greatest detective in history, human or otherwise. He’s outwitted his arch nemesis multiple times, and he once even escaped death; but eventually, time caught up with him, as it will with all things. The world will be destroyed by humans, be it global warming, Nuclear War, or a super-virus. Someday, all of our time will run out, and we will not realize how much time we’ve really wasted until we’ve actually wasted it. Hindsight really IS twenty twenty, as the saying goes.”
Xeldon pondered this as he finished a glass of his standard Green Tea, naturally, it was pure tea and nothing else. As he set down his glass and reached for the kettle on his oak-wood desk, he hard a knock upon his chamber door.
“Come.”
He swiveled in his chair around to see the face who was entering. It was a pretty face, and a welcome one at that; Sabrina timidly stepped forward, her eyes barely seeable to even Xeldon, who was renowned for his excellent eyesight. He could read 12 font text on a 7 inch computer screen from nearly a mile away, if nothing was interrupting the line of sight.
“Please my dear, take a seat.”
She obeyed silently, timidly seating herself in the only other chair in the room, a plush swivel office chair.
“Now, what can I do for you, my dear?”
“Well….I…” she said, fighting back her vicious temper, “I want to be human again.”
“Hahaha!” Xeldon let out a long, hardy laugh, and Sabrina’s head slowly moved lower and lower, and lower until it appeared that she was attempting something obscene with her legs.
“Oh, my dear,” he turned again, “I wished that, too. But you must know as well as I do that this is simply not possible.. I mean, the only case I’ve heard of a Vampire to human transformation is of Lavin’s father, and he’s long dead.”
Sabrina’s head shot up.
“Lavin’s father?”
“Yes. I could tell you more, but it’s a terribly long story.”
“I’ve got nothing better to do,” she replied solemly.
“Well…why not! It is a rather good tale, I s’pose.” He set down his glass, folded his hands together on his lap, and began to weave the tale…
Hundreds of years ago, the world of Vampires was incredibly different from what it is today. Vampires were numerous and powerful, and united under a common cause. Whereas today we are divided and greedy.
However, when they were united, some experiments were performed very high up in the Orders of these Organizations, to see if Vampires could walk in Daylight, not only to feel human, but to escape persecution. Vampires were easily identified at night.
One of the men working on this project was Navil, a young fellow with a keen intellect, and a sharp mind. After years of research, Navil thought he had found the cure to Vampirism. And for the most part, he did; however, when he did, it did not last long. The cure wore off in days, and when he was about to perfect the potion, a fire struck his room and destroyed everything, almost killing him. To this day, the secret to reversing this process is known only to those who posses the blood memories of Lavin’s father, and to this day, no one does.
“This official meeting of the House of Nine is now in session, and this time, it is not a pleasant proceeding.” Roberts blew cigar smoke directly in front of him before saying this, and is it did, a small cloud formed in the midst of the dimly lighted room with wall-to-wall carpeting and black walls. It was dark, because humans were not completely blind in dim light, yet in dim darkness vampires would take twenty minutes to adjust. As his cigar ran out, Roberts shoved it down onto the table’s ashtray with a large *THUMP*, and proceeded to get another one out and light it while he stood.
“When is it ever a pleasant proceeding?” Xeldon asked sarcastically.
“Shutup!” Yelled a Pelign from the table. He was not pleased with being awaken at nearly 12 AM to be called to a meeting.
“Enough.”
Roberts interrupted their short argument and forced them to listen, as he madly chewed the end of his fine Cuban cigar.
“Tonight is business. Please, direct your attention to the monitor behind me.” He grabbed a streamlined silver remote, and soon the plasma screen behind him began playing a series of images, most of them of men who were hidden in the shadows, un-seeable without excellent night vision.
“As you know, the attacks upon vampires are becoming more and more common, and those who attack us are becoming much more organized.” He flipped to the image of the priest Lavin murdered not many hours before their meeting; his body was only recognizable due to his costume. Lavin had redefined the word overkill in this case.
“This priest was killed not too far from here, in the country. We were relatively certain he was a lonely psycho, working for his own gain. Until, that is…” he switched to an enhanced photograph of the priest, the Television zoom in on his neck. A tattoo of a ‘V’ inside of a ‘D’ was displayed on the back of the neck, in dark and sharp font.
“This is the second time we’ve found those markings on the corpse of a human. It cannot be coincidence, gentlemen that both men were killers, and both were hunting vampires. I believe that a vampire hunting organization has situated itself somewhere near the House of Nine.”
“Nonesense!” Scoffed Xeldon as he boldy drank from a large cup of tea. Green Tea, which was of course drunken liberally and without abandon or sugar. An old man, Xeldon appeared to be in his late fifties, and carried on conversations much like he was the authority. It was not hard to say he was, as he wore a business suit complete with Tie and vest, and had been the founder of The House of Nine.
“The last time a vampire hunting organization was anywhere near here was almost 500 years ago, and they were all but eradicated! Vampire hunting organization, hmmph.” He sharply dismissed what he saw as a ridiculous claim by a young, weak-minded fool.
“Then I suppose you have a better explanation for this strange markings?” Roberts inquired, turning everyone’s attention to Xeldon.
“Mere coincidence.” He timidly drank his tea, as though he was trying to hide in the pool of calming liquid.
“And how about the clothes? Did you not notice both corpses mentioned were wearing similar garments, namely, white trench-coats and crosses?”
Setting down his tea, Xeldon picked up a small napkin and daintily wiped his mouth clean, acting as though his personal hygiene was more important than the light from the sun. Setting down the napkin, he returned to an impatient Roberts and a lost battle with simply a comment meant to antagonize Roberts’ already meandering and enraged disposition.
“Perhaps Anti-Goth is a new fad.”
“You know, this bickering will get us nowhere.” Lavin appeared out of almost nowhere, in a corner near the TV, interjecting as though the humans around him were mere children fighting over a toy at Christmas. Pushing his rectangular glasses upward on the bridge of his nose with one finger, he leaned against the wall, one foot on it just below his back, his arms crossed.
“We should concentrate on where our enemies are, not what they are.”
“Well made point,” Roberts said sharply to Xeldon, as though Lavin was taking sides, which he wasn’t, “well made indeed. Now then, we are still uncertain as to whether or not these markings indicate vampire hunters, but,” he looked at Xeldon with a furrowed brow and said sharply, “we’re using common sense here. They wear the same clothes, they use the same equipment, have the same tattoo, and most importantly, they hunt vampires. That’s all that this House needs to know.” Roberts dashed another cigar butt and approached Lavin.
“And that’s all you need to know, too. Load up, find this VD gang, and then inform the order of its whereabouts as soon as it’s located. We’ll dispatch an experienced team to deal with the situation.” He returned to the head of the oak table, and picked up a vanilla file folder. Handing it to Lavin, he whispered quietly to his vampire companion, “last scene of Vampire activity was near the Docks area. You should start your search there. More information will be in your folder.”
He returned to the table, sat in his chair, and swiveled around, getting the last word in:
“Dismissed.”
Chapter Three: Domestic Disturbance
She did not know where she was, and for all intents and purposes, to her, it didn’t much matter. She was in a dark, cold room, in what appeared to be a concealed case filled with blankets, and even pillows. The mattress she was sleeping upon was soft, and moving on it was like swimming in tranquility. She was tempted to go back to sleep, when she remembered that she did not know where she was, and for all intents and purposes, it mattered very suddenly. She screamed a small shriek, and hit the top of her container, sending her fist flying through it.
“Woah!” She marveled at her own strength, and wondered if this wasn’t a dream. Sabrina removed the hand from the lid and shoved it off the top of her, and in a moment’s notice she was greeted by the rising moon and the glare of the stars above her, staring at the small opening in her roof, a sort of automated sunroof. She looked around, and her room was not much to look at; it was merely a ugly, brown carpet, with stone walls, and stone ceiling with a table in the middle, and on the table sat a small bottle of what looked to her to be red wine. Sabrina grabbed the bottle, knowing that nothing would relive her stressed state more than a nice glass of alcohol, and poured into the glass. She then began to drink deeply from the glass, and as she did so, noted the strange manner in which the liquid flowed from the glass. It was more viscous than wine, and it had a decidedly sharper edge to the taste, as though it was many ingredients mixed into one bland mold of liquid. She drank half of it, then realized what she was drinking, and spat it upon the carpet.
She had inadvertently drunken blood. Disgusted she threw the wine glass across the room, and as it broke and fell to the floor, glass flying nearly two feet away from it’s point of impact, she heard footsteps approaching.
Her door burst open, and a man armed with a rifle and full camouflague appeared in the doorway, a radio on his belt.
“Miss?” He said urgently.
“Is something the matter?”
“Not at all, thank you….Mr…”
“Gates. Phillip Gates, Miss. I’m the head of security ‘ere at the House of Nine, and I’ve been entrusted with your care for a few days. Just checking up on you.” The man had a thick British accent, although Sabrina didn’t seem to notice. She stared at him for a minute, and after that minute of awkward silence, the man finally broke it.
“Nice t’ meet you, Miss. Please, if you need my ‘elp, just give a hollah and I’ll be right there. ‘Ave a good night, Miss.”
“My name’s Sabrina,” she stated matter-of-factly.
“Nice t’ meet you, Sabrina. ‘Ave a good night!”
“Good night.”
He closed the door behind him, and as soon as he did, she blushed at how awkward she acted.
“I treated him like I was a horny schoolgirl eyeing the all-star football player..” she thought silently.
For a minute, she pondered what about men with guns and uniform attracted her. Dismissing the thoughts, she turned to the mess at hand.
“I wonder if there’s anything here that’ll get blood out of the carpet,” she said, turning to the bathroom.
Harbor
Location Unknown
Time: 0400
Order.
That’s what was brought about these days. Everyone was obsessed with order, it seemed, so much so that they even have to make organizations called “The House Of Nine”, a group of vigilantes in trench-coats who went around killing people. Brutis spat upon the ground, keeping himself from throwing up as he thought of it.
“Makes me sick. Lot of cannibals.”
While not the most crucial of jobs, Brutis enjoyed it all the same. The hours were good, namely, sundown to sunrise, and he was paid extremely well. Not only that, but he finally found a job where his brawn mattered more than his noticeable lack of brains. He was quite pleased with his post in his work place, which was of course, body guard.
He reached a gloved hand into his pocket and pulled out a cigarette, then proceeded to light it with a cupped hand.
Brutis blew the smoke into the night’s sky.
“What a beautiful sight, the sea”, He said almost sadly.
“I hope you enjoy sleeping in it.” A voice behind him replied.
“What the-“ The *click* of a silenced .45 magnum caused his head to recoil back as a bullet pierced his nearly non-existent brain.
“Scum.” Lavin kicked the body into the ocean with one well placed crotch kick. He did not make a loud splash, but he still regretted kicking it so hard that it flew thirty feet in the air. As it landed, his hair stood on end. He quickly returned from tense to relaxed.
“No matter. Humans cannot hear it.”
“Humans? Who do you think you’re messing with, Lavin?”
His eyes widened and he turned around to stare at the person who replied. It was a man in a white trench-coat with a white cross, white gloves, black mop-head hair and glasses, who had a pistol aimed right for his forehead and appeared to be in his thirties. The full-moon above him illuminated his trench-coat as though he was in the spotlight at a brodway play.
“Remember me, Lavin?”
“I’ve never met you before in my life, and I don’t wish to get to know you.” Lavin reached for his gun, but a gunshot ripped through his shoulder. As the recoil sent him back an inch, his shoulder twisted obscenely and violently, and he returned his attention to his new enemy.
“Who the hell are you,” thought Lavin as he studied the character.
As though this character could read minds, his next reply would be vague yet addressing.
“Oh come now, Lavin, you’re saying you don’t remember Matthias? Good old brother Matthias?”
“Foolish human. You should know better than to mess with a vampire!” At superhuman speed, Lavin withdrew his pistol and fired three shots, all of which hit the priest in the head. He fell forwards after the recoil, and he landed, his eyes still open and looking straight at Lavin. As the body stopped twitching, Lavin put his pistol back in his innermost pocket near his body in the trench-coat.
“Good old dead brother Matthias.”
He walked over to the corpse, and flipped it over, noting the same markings as on the other two corpses.
“This is definitely the right place.” He disappeared into the night, but as he did, the corpse behind him began to move, and pushed itself up with two arms.
“But it’s not the right time,” Matthias uttered under his breath sinisterly, as he rose from the ground.
The House of Nine
0400
Xeldon’s Private Quarters
“Sherlock Holmes will always live on as the greatest detective in history, human or otherwise. He’s outwitted his arch nemesis multiple times, and he once even escaped death; but eventually, time caught up with him, as it will with all things. The world will be destroyed by humans, be it global warming, Nuclear War, or a super-virus. Someday, all of our time will run out, and we will not realize how much time we’ve really wasted until we’ve actually wasted it. Hindsight really IS twenty twenty, as the saying goes.”
Xeldon pondered this as he finished a glass of his standard Green Tea, naturally, it was pure tea and nothing else. As he set down his glass and reached for the kettle on his oak-wood desk, he hard a knock upon his chamber door.
“Come.”
He swiveled in his chair around to see the face who was entering. It was a pretty face, and a welcome one at that; Sabrina timidly stepped forward, her eyes barely seeable to even Xeldon, who was renowned for his excellent eyesight. He could read 12 font text on a 7 inch computer screen from nearly a mile away, if nothing was interrupting the line of sight.
“Please my dear, take a seat.”
She obeyed silently, timidly seating herself in the only other chair in the room, a plush swivel office chair.
“Now, what can I do for you, my dear?”
“Well….I…” she said, fighting back her vicious temper, “I want to be human again.”
“Hahaha!” Xeldon let out a long, hardy laugh, and Sabrina’s head slowly moved lower and lower, and lower until it appeared that she was attempting something obscene with her legs.
“Oh, my dear,” he turned again, “I wished that, too. But you must know as well as I do that this is simply not possible.. I mean, the only case I’ve heard of a Vampire to human transformation is of Lavin’s father, and he’s long dead.”
Sabrina’s head shot up.
“Lavin’s father?”
“Yes. I could tell you more, but it’s a terribly long story.”
“I’ve got nothing better to do,” she replied solemly.
“Well…why not! It is a rather good tale, I s’pose.” He set down his glass, folded his hands together on his lap, and began to weave the tale…
Hundreds of years ago, the world of Vampires was incredibly different from what it is today. Vampires were numerous and powerful, and united under a common cause. Whereas today we are divided and greedy.
However, when they were united, some experiments were performed very high up in the Orders of these Organizations, to see if Vampires could walk in Daylight, not only to feel human, but to escape persecution. Vampires were easily identified at night.
One of the men working on this project was Navil, a young fellow with a keen intellect, and a sharp mind. After years of research, Navil thought he had found the cure to Vampirism. And for the most part, he did; however, when he did, it did not last long. The cure wore off in days, and when he was about to perfect the potion, a fire struck his room and destroyed everything, almost killing him. To this day, the secret to reversing this process is known only to those who posses the blood memories of Lavin’s father, and to this day, no one does.
alien- Senior Moderator
- Posts : 140
Join date : 2008-01-21
Age : 33
Location : in the asgard sector
Re: Ancient Sectrets
alien 3/3/2008, 1:18 am
The Harbor
Location Unknown
0424
Lavin was adept at infiltration. That much was certain, for sure. His light frame and flexible figure allowed him to outmatch the best of oylmpic athletes at almost any sport which required obscene amounts of concentration, skill, flexibility and a little luck. As he slinked around a corner, he heard the beating heart of his own kind.
“So vampires are hunting vampires,” he thought silently.
“What a world we live in,” he thought silently to himself as he continued to slither down the hallway. His footsteps non-audible, he was almost floating. He continued until he was around 30 feet away- in a straight corridor- from a door at the end of the hall. He raised his glasses on the bridge of his nose to better see, and soon noticed every detail. The door was bright white, with the VD symbol upon it. Next to the doorknob on the right, was a large guard with an automatic weapon, and on his right was another. Both were wide awake, and, zooming his eyes in, he noticed that both had extremely dialated eye pupils. He saw this, and decided to take advantage of it. Reaching into his trenchcoat, he pulled out a small orb known to the order as “Sun Grenades”, simply because the brightness of these orbs at the epicenter was as blinding as the sun. Of course, Vampires were not permitted to use them due to obvious UV-related reasons; cancer was not something Lavin looked forward to fighting. So, he decided to use as much discretion as possible.
Setting the timer on the small little ball for 30 seconds, he set it down on the ground and lay there behind it. Pulling out his gun, he put it up against the orb.
“Who’s up for some pool?” he thought, as he used the orb for a scratch ball and the head of the gun for a que stick, hitting the ‘START’ button on the ball. A small beep erupted from the ball, and soon, it was rolling.
“Call.” Vinny set three red chips, valued at 20 euros per chip, down on the table.
“Call.” Carl followed suit. This game of poker had been lasting far too long, while the rounds were far too short. Sebin, ‘The Shark’, as he was known, was one of the most notorious card players in the entire organized crime industry, and a proud member of VD. No one really knew what VD stood for; not even The Shark, which was surprising as he was not only a skilled gambler, but a walking encyclopedia. With his black cowboy hat covering his hair, and a black sport coat on, the Shark was quick to anger the occupants of his table.
“Raise.”
“Okay, I’m out. Fold. God damnit, Sebin!”
“Me too.”
Everyone except Vinny followed suit.
“I’ll see your bet and raise.”
Gasps erupted from the small entourage of men gathered around the felt table.
“Feeling lucky tonight, Vin?”
“Almost as lucky as the Prime Minister himself, Shark.” Vinny smiled coyly.
“Now, let’s see those cards of yours.”
Sebin did not move for a moment, but then he relaxed, and let out a long hardy laugh.
“Hahahaha,” he laughed, “you still lose, Vin. Flush.”
A flush of jack, queen, king, ace, and a ten thrown in, were all out of suit. The crowd of men gathered around “ooohed,” they “awed”, then they went “sucker”, almost in unison.
Vinny smiled coyly, looking down at his cards as though they were gifts from god himself.
“Fraid not, my friend.” He lowered his cards to reveal the winning hand.
“Royal flush. Read ‘em and weep.”
Sebin’s eyes widened as he looked at the cards.
“How the- what are the odds of two flushes in one game, one of which being a royal flush?!”
“My wallet’s amount of money to yours,” Vinny said, taking in all the chips in the middle of the table.
“A million to one.”
“Cheater!”
Hans heard this cry erupt from the door behind him as he stood motionlessly staring down the hallway. Not the most exciting job, Hans was tasked with protecting the charge of VD- “some low level scumbags who were in the drug business”, his employer poignantly described. He smiled to himself minimally, his stony disposition taking him back as soon as he had gotten rid of it.
Hans was not the average thug that everyone made him out to be. He was intelligent, cultured, and even sensitive at times. From a kind upbringing in Western Germany, Hans was the kind of German who not only welcomed the American influence, he reveled in it- the fact that the world’s most powerful country influenced them was comforting, though how he could not place. This approach made him more able to find employment in the Western World, and so it was that he was employed in Britain.
His partner, who refused to give a name looked over to him shortly after the cry from the room was heard.
“Do you think we should check up on them?”
“Nein. They will be fine for the time being. Probably a foul game.”
“Ah.”
Hans returned his gaze down the hallway, and as he returned his hair was made to stand on end- not by what he saw, but by what he heard. As the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, he heard a tiny beep as though an electronic watch had been set to go off for half a second. Looking back over to his partner, he made sure that there was something there before calling down the thunder.
“Did you hear that?”
“Hear what?”
“Oh, nothing.”
Hans returned to his view. He noticed the fine, wooden flooring, but again, he heard the beeping. It got louder, and louder as though the beeping was a timer, a countdown to some insurmountably horrific fate that he alone would face. As he stood there, wondering whether he still had a grasp on reality and sanity, Hans felt something hit his foot.
He looked down, to see a small white ball.
“Hmm….” He picked it up and heard the beeping become louder.
“Do you hear it now?”
“Yes. What the hell is that?!”
“Well….”
He turned it in his muscular hands, and as he did so, time slowed. Hans saw what was not welcome to him.
He saw a small timer, and the timer read:
“Detonation in 3….2….”
“Oh mein..”
A bright flash would see them fall unconscious.
Shortly after smoking a cigar, Cuban, naturally, shortly after taking the money he so rightly deserved, of course, the Shark looked around. Vinny was unconscious, and the proof of his treachery was in plan sight; he had a deck of cards hooked up to an elaborate pump-based card dispenser. The cards would be pushed by air into Vinny’s hand, then he’d slide one down.
“Must’ve taken forever to master…” Shark thought, looking over Vinny’s knocked out body.
He stood there for a minute, thinking, until his thoughts were interrupted by a scream from the other side of the door.
“What the hell was that? Carl, go outside the door and investigate.”
“Yeah.”
“Stupid Shark, thinks he’s so hot..” Carl muttered through a thick cigarette and a row of fake teeth.
“Who does that bastard think he is, anyway? I was here first…” he pushed through the door, and saw Hans and Sven lying unconscious. Turning their bodies over, he looked through their pockets, and stole their wallets, stuffing wads of cash into his back pocket as he did so.
“Boy guys, whoever did this to you must be either crazy or a pro,” said aloud, turning their bodies over.
“I’m both, actually.”
He heard a voice behind him, and before he could turn he was being held up by his neck. The figure was in a goth-like costume and had on a pair of rectangular glasses on; he had a sadistic smile on his face and one eye was twitching.
“Please don’t kill me!” The cigarette dropped from his mouth as his teeth began to chatter.
“Hi, my name’s Lavin. What’s yours?”
Carl hesitated, until Lavin began to squeeze his neck like a pressure toy.
“That’s not very polite, ignoring me like that…”
“*GASP* C-achh acchhhhh- Carl! MY NAME IS CARL!”
Lavin softened his grip on him.
“Hi Carl. Now that we know each other, let’s exchange some personal info, shall we?”
Lavin’s eyes looked directly into his, and fear was instilled instantly into Carl.
“Who’s your boss, Carl?”
“The V-v-v…..the V…Vd.”
“I didn’t ask what COMPANY you worked for, I asked what PERSON. Who’s your boss?”
He raised Carl off the ground.
“Or do I have to get nasty?”
Lavin flashed his fangs and his eyes turned white.
“AHH! Okay, okay! His name is Pallicino!”
“What’s VD doing down here, Carl?”
“I don’t know.”
Lavin’s grip tightened.
“Now Carl, your mother would be ashamed. Did she promote liars, or were you born that way?”
“Acch- I don-tacch know!”
“You see the knife in my other hand, Carl? This knife can cut your testicles off cleaner than a lightsaber, and nearly twice as fast.
I won’t ask again. What’s VD doing down here?”
“I DON’T KNOW!”
Lavin knew that Carl would be of no use to him any longer. He set him down, patted his shoulders and said,
“Nice talking to you, Carl.”
He turned like he was walking away, but instead returned to his facing position with his pistol in hand, and unloaded three rounds, silenced of course, into Carl’s brain.
Location Unknown
0424
Lavin was adept at infiltration. That much was certain, for sure. His light frame and flexible figure allowed him to outmatch the best of oylmpic athletes at almost any sport which required obscene amounts of concentration, skill, flexibility and a little luck. As he slinked around a corner, he heard the beating heart of his own kind.
“So vampires are hunting vampires,” he thought silently.
“What a world we live in,” he thought silently to himself as he continued to slither down the hallway. His footsteps non-audible, he was almost floating. He continued until he was around 30 feet away- in a straight corridor- from a door at the end of the hall. He raised his glasses on the bridge of his nose to better see, and soon noticed every detail. The door was bright white, with the VD symbol upon it. Next to the doorknob on the right, was a large guard with an automatic weapon, and on his right was another. Both were wide awake, and, zooming his eyes in, he noticed that both had extremely dialated eye pupils. He saw this, and decided to take advantage of it. Reaching into his trenchcoat, he pulled out a small orb known to the order as “Sun Grenades”, simply because the brightness of these orbs at the epicenter was as blinding as the sun. Of course, Vampires were not permitted to use them due to obvious UV-related reasons; cancer was not something Lavin looked forward to fighting. So, he decided to use as much discretion as possible.
Setting the timer on the small little ball for 30 seconds, he set it down on the ground and lay there behind it. Pulling out his gun, he put it up against the orb.
“Who’s up for some pool?” he thought, as he used the orb for a scratch ball and the head of the gun for a que stick, hitting the ‘START’ button on the ball. A small beep erupted from the ball, and soon, it was rolling.
“Call.” Vinny set three red chips, valued at 20 euros per chip, down on the table.
“Call.” Carl followed suit. This game of poker had been lasting far too long, while the rounds were far too short. Sebin, ‘The Shark’, as he was known, was one of the most notorious card players in the entire organized crime industry, and a proud member of VD. No one really knew what VD stood for; not even The Shark, which was surprising as he was not only a skilled gambler, but a walking encyclopedia. With his black cowboy hat covering his hair, and a black sport coat on, the Shark was quick to anger the occupants of his table.
“Raise.”
“Okay, I’m out. Fold. God damnit, Sebin!”
“Me too.”
Everyone except Vinny followed suit.
“I’ll see your bet and raise.”
Gasps erupted from the small entourage of men gathered around the felt table.
“Feeling lucky tonight, Vin?”
“Almost as lucky as the Prime Minister himself, Shark.” Vinny smiled coyly.
“Now, let’s see those cards of yours.”
Sebin did not move for a moment, but then he relaxed, and let out a long hardy laugh.
“Hahahaha,” he laughed, “you still lose, Vin. Flush.”
A flush of jack, queen, king, ace, and a ten thrown in, were all out of suit. The crowd of men gathered around “ooohed,” they “awed”, then they went “sucker”, almost in unison.
Vinny smiled coyly, looking down at his cards as though they were gifts from god himself.
“Fraid not, my friend.” He lowered his cards to reveal the winning hand.
“Royal flush. Read ‘em and weep.”
Sebin’s eyes widened as he looked at the cards.
“How the- what are the odds of two flushes in one game, one of which being a royal flush?!”
“My wallet’s amount of money to yours,” Vinny said, taking in all the chips in the middle of the table.
“A million to one.”
“Cheater!”
Hans heard this cry erupt from the door behind him as he stood motionlessly staring down the hallway. Not the most exciting job, Hans was tasked with protecting the charge of VD- “some low level scumbags who were in the drug business”, his employer poignantly described. He smiled to himself minimally, his stony disposition taking him back as soon as he had gotten rid of it.
Hans was not the average thug that everyone made him out to be. He was intelligent, cultured, and even sensitive at times. From a kind upbringing in Western Germany, Hans was the kind of German who not only welcomed the American influence, he reveled in it- the fact that the world’s most powerful country influenced them was comforting, though how he could not place. This approach made him more able to find employment in the Western World, and so it was that he was employed in Britain.
His partner, who refused to give a name looked over to him shortly after the cry from the room was heard.
“Do you think we should check up on them?”
“Nein. They will be fine for the time being. Probably a foul game.”
“Ah.”
Hans returned his gaze down the hallway, and as he returned his hair was made to stand on end- not by what he saw, but by what he heard. As the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, he heard a tiny beep as though an electronic watch had been set to go off for half a second. Looking back over to his partner, he made sure that there was something there before calling down the thunder.
“Did you hear that?”
“Hear what?”
“Oh, nothing.”
Hans returned to his view. He noticed the fine, wooden flooring, but again, he heard the beeping. It got louder, and louder as though the beeping was a timer, a countdown to some insurmountably horrific fate that he alone would face. As he stood there, wondering whether he still had a grasp on reality and sanity, Hans felt something hit his foot.
He looked down, to see a small white ball.
“Hmm….” He picked it up and heard the beeping become louder.
“Do you hear it now?”
“Yes. What the hell is that?!”
“Well….”
He turned it in his muscular hands, and as he did so, time slowed. Hans saw what was not welcome to him.
He saw a small timer, and the timer read:
“Detonation in 3….2….”
“Oh mein..”
A bright flash would see them fall unconscious.
Shortly after smoking a cigar, Cuban, naturally, shortly after taking the money he so rightly deserved, of course, the Shark looked around. Vinny was unconscious, and the proof of his treachery was in plan sight; he had a deck of cards hooked up to an elaborate pump-based card dispenser. The cards would be pushed by air into Vinny’s hand, then he’d slide one down.
“Must’ve taken forever to master…” Shark thought, looking over Vinny’s knocked out body.
He stood there for a minute, thinking, until his thoughts were interrupted by a scream from the other side of the door.
“What the hell was that? Carl, go outside the door and investigate.”
“Yeah.”
“Stupid Shark, thinks he’s so hot..” Carl muttered through a thick cigarette and a row of fake teeth.
“Who does that bastard think he is, anyway? I was here first…” he pushed through the door, and saw Hans and Sven lying unconscious. Turning their bodies over, he looked through their pockets, and stole their wallets, stuffing wads of cash into his back pocket as he did so.
“Boy guys, whoever did this to you must be either crazy or a pro,” said aloud, turning their bodies over.
“I’m both, actually.”
He heard a voice behind him, and before he could turn he was being held up by his neck. The figure was in a goth-like costume and had on a pair of rectangular glasses on; he had a sadistic smile on his face and one eye was twitching.
“Please don’t kill me!” The cigarette dropped from his mouth as his teeth began to chatter.
“Hi, my name’s Lavin. What’s yours?”
Carl hesitated, until Lavin began to squeeze his neck like a pressure toy.
“That’s not very polite, ignoring me like that…”
“*GASP* C-achh acchhhhh- Carl! MY NAME IS CARL!”
Lavin softened his grip on him.
“Hi Carl. Now that we know each other, let’s exchange some personal info, shall we?”
Lavin’s eyes looked directly into his, and fear was instilled instantly into Carl.
“Who’s your boss, Carl?”
“The V-v-v…..the V…Vd.”
“I didn’t ask what COMPANY you worked for, I asked what PERSON. Who’s your boss?”
He raised Carl off the ground.
“Or do I have to get nasty?”
Lavin flashed his fangs and his eyes turned white.
“AHH! Okay, okay! His name is Pallicino!”
“What’s VD doing down here, Carl?”
“I don’t know.”
Lavin’s grip tightened.
“Now Carl, your mother would be ashamed. Did she promote liars, or were you born that way?”
“Acch- I don-tacch know!”
“You see the knife in my other hand, Carl? This knife can cut your testicles off cleaner than a lightsaber, and nearly twice as fast.
I won’t ask again. What’s VD doing down here?”
“I DON’T KNOW!”
Lavin knew that Carl would be of no use to him any longer. He set him down, patted his shoulders and said,
“Nice talking to you, Carl.”
He turned like he was walking away, but instead returned to his facing position with his pistol in hand, and unloaded three rounds, silenced of course, into Carl’s brain.
alien- Senior Moderator
- Posts : 140
Join date : 2008-01-21
Age : 33
Location : in the asgard sector
Re: Ancient Sectrets
alien 3/3/2008, 1:19 am
Sebin knew something was wrong; he could feel it. On top of that, Carl had been gone for far too long and it was high time that he returned.
“Stupid lackeys. Can’t trust em’ to do anything.”
The Shark set down his hat and walked outside the door, looking around. Before him were three bodies; the two bodyguards and Carl, in a huge pile. Then, carved into Carl’s back with a knife, was a note which read:
“I WOULD HAVE STAYED INSIDE IF I WERE YOU.”
He smiled at this little note carved into one of his friends.
“Sadistic bastard,” he thought silently as he looked at what had happened.
“Probably a hitman. Hmm.”
He turned around and went back into the room, where he found all his card-buddies dead.
The timing was right for this. It was the perfect setting, the perfect room, the perfect target. He could see him below, his vampire like agility allowing him to cling to the ceiling in human form. He looked down, and jumped below onto The Shark.
“Surprise!” He kicked him down, then proceeded to ram his head against the table until blood was dripping from his nose.
“Hello, Sebin. I’m Lavin, and I’d like to ask you some questions.”
He banged his head against the table again.
“Who’s the head of VD?”
“I wish I knew! Please, don’t kill me!”
“You’re dead already, you just don’t know it. Now tell me, please; who’s the leader of VD?”
“I don’t know!”
“You shouldn’t be lying; it doesn’t suit you.” Lavin pinned his hand down against the table with his knife, piercing the middle of the hand as though it was tissue paper.
He then proceeded to grab his arm and push it away from Sebin’s body; in a second, Sebin was missing an arm.
Lavin quickly caurterized the wound by firing off several gunshots and using the heated barrel as a makeshift burner, then he proceeded to pin him against the wall and stare into his eyes, his cold, dead veins emphasized by a white pupil and a stare that would frighten God himself.
Sebin was in tears.
“P-p-plea-please?! Do not kill me!”
He took the arm, and stabbed it through Sebin’s skull. Just as he did so, he heard several sirens.
“Oh great, the Police,” thought Lavin. He quickly disappeared into the darkness as the sun began to rise above the water.
Chapter Four: Matthias
An indiscriminate alley, in an indiscriminate slum, in an uncaring city in the fine country of Great Britain was home to almost anything that the mind of an adult could concot. As he sat above the small alley, on the rooftops of his home, he pondered silently why he should not throw himself from the top of the building. This man, suicidal and unwilling to live, had given up. He had a great life, a caring family, and a loving group of friends that had helped him through a lot in the past. But now, now was the time when he would throw it all away. He stood up on the ledge, and looked down below him, the stench of trash and garbage ripe in the air. He closed his eyes, his beautiful, blue eyes and looked up at god.
“I’m sorry.” He said solemnly, holding back a stream of tears that was dying to escape from his mind. As he felt his eyes water, his heart slow, his chest heave and tears flow freely down his soft, child-like cheeks, he descended down into the alley of the shadow of death. Now was his time for the beginning of a new adventure- but if he was right, his adventure would end here. He felt the air take him, the gliding feeling of the cold, wet air that was around him consume him as he quickly approached the ground. His body flying fast, his head held low, he was about to finally get relief from his pain. As he felt his coat flying in the wind, he saw the ground quickly approaching him. He sighed one last time as his body made a sickening crack against the ground, his ribs shattered, his kneck broken.
But the person who watched him descend would not allow him to die. She descended upon him, and took his body in her arms. As the life began to drain away from him, she bit into his neck and drained him of a small amount of blood. His neck, before was limping and lifeless- now it sprung up, a gasp awakening his eyes, his face full of surprise.
“Why? Why do you allow me to live when I want to die? Life is nothing but a perplexing puzzle, one that I can never solve. Why did you save me?”
“Because your future is too valuable to waste.”
He looked up at his savior, his damner, the devil and god all at once. He looked up at this girl, this woman, who was barely of age, and asked her:
“What of your future? You have a bright future ahead of you. You will not be lost, you will not wish to die. Whereas I, I wish to end my life. Your future will certainly be brighter than mine.”
“Do you believe in God, Matthias?”
The man, Matthias, a rough trick with a soft face, delicate eyes, and a stony disposition, winced.
“How do you know my name?”
“Do you?” She persisted. This girl, looking of Asian descent, was persistent.
“Yes.”
“Then why disgrace him by throwing away his most valuable gift, Matthias? Should we not treasure that which is given to us, and use it?” She stood up from the ground, letting him fall onto his back. He pushed himself up by his fists, his anger providing him with a powerful motivator.
“I do not keep that which is broken.”
“Oh, come off of it, Matthias.” She sighed, frustrated and sat on her feet as she looked over this suicidal man.
“Your life is what you make of it; what you were given was pure, untouched, untainted. And when your life was good, you looked at the bad. Why, why is it that coming from a family such as yours, a world where there is always food on your plate, a roof over your head and a fire to keep you warm at night, why, why do you still wish to end your life? You have everything that most desire, nothing that people would throw away.”
“That’s not the point,” he snorted, getting up on his feet.
“The point is, I was given these things. Given being the keyword. Do you think I wanted that? I want a life where, for just an instant, what I get must be earned, not given. I do not want to live this unfulfilling life where things come easily; I was born into a curse, the curse of aristocracy, the curse of an intellect five times that of any more intelligent beings. And that intellect is telling me more than I want to believe that I am to die. Finally, I believe that my conscience has gotten the best of me- I can no longer take and give nothing back, and it is time to end that life of taking.”
“But Matthias,” she said nastily, “if you take your life, you take the greatest thing from those who gave you anything- you take yourself. That is not only greedy, but a true testament to just how uncaring you are. You must live, Matthias.”
She looked down upon him, and began to smile.
“Matthias.. do you want to work for what you need? Do you want to live a life that not only fulfills your wants and needs, but the needs of those around you?
The needs of humanity?”
He pondered this question as he sat in the rain, thunder cracking the sky and the light of the lightning piercing the hearts of those who would sit inside, watching the god’s fury unleashed on the new earth.
Should I accept her wish, he said silently to himself. Impulsively, he began to bite his nails, the standard nervous twitch that so defined his character.
I have nothing else to do, seeing as now I cannot die.
He looked up to her.
“If you help me up, give me some food, and some shelter, I will gladly do as you wish.”
“Take my hand.” Her hand was small, long, and outstretched. The pale brown color which painted her skin was on her hand, it being as soft as a baby’s. As he grabbed it, he looked to her with tears in his eyes.
“Thank you.”
Matthias awoke fast, his eyes wide and pale grey with the expectation of what was to come. Again, he had dreamed of the night of turning, the night in which he was to become a non-human, a vicious monster which was to leech off of the kindness of other’s blood.
Wiping the memories of that long ago date away as though they were dust upon a fine mantel, Matthias arose from his bed and went over to the antique brown dresser directly across from his bed. Awakened quickly, Matthias was as sharp as he’d ever be when push came to shove.
He picked up a picture that was upon that dresser, an old picture with a long memory and a promise never fulfilled behind it. In the picture were him and three of his brothers from long ago, now dead and forgotten by anyone old enough to remember, excluding him. As he stared fondly at himself, unchanged by time due to his vampirism and undamaged by the tragic events that cursed his past so, he was reminded of just how precious those times were, and longed for them again. Alas, they were gone.
But his mission was not, his promise unforgotten. Though the people he had sworn on his blood to favor by completing a simple task had been long dead, his blood remained consistent, his will strong, his readiness to complete his wish and task as high as it was when it was made. Tired of failing at his attempts to make good on his word, Matthias set down the picture and spoke aloud to himself.
“I swore to uphold the Tenets, Brothers. And so shall it be.”
“Stupid lackeys. Can’t trust em’ to do anything.”
The Shark set down his hat and walked outside the door, looking around. Before him were three bodies; the two bodyguards and Carl, in a huge pile. Then, carved into Carl’s back with a knife, was a note which read:
“I WOULD HAVE STAYED INSIDE IF I WERE YOU.”
He smiled at this little note carved into one of his friends.
“Sadistic bastard,” he thought silently as he looked at what had happened.
“Probably a hitman. Hmm.”
He turned around and went back into the room, where he found all his card-buddies dead.
The timing was right for this. It was the perfect setting, the perfect room, the perfect target. He could see him below, his vampire like agility allowing him to cling to the ceiling in human form. He looked down, and jumped below onto The Shark.
“Surprise!” He kicked him down, then proceeded to ram his head against the table until blood was dripping from his nose.
“Hello, Sebin. I’m Lavin, and I’d like to ask you some questions.”
He banged his head against the table again.
“Who’s the head of VD?”
“I wish I knew! Please, don’t kill me!”
“You’re dead already, you just don’t know it. Now tell me, please; who’s the leader of VD?”
“I don’t know!”
“You shouldn’t be lying; it doesn’t suit you.” Lavin pinned his hand down against the table with his knife, piercing the middle of the hand as though it was tissue paper.
He then proceeded to grab his arm and push it away from Sebin’s body; in a second, Sebin was missing an arm.
Lavin quickly caurterized the wound by firing off several gunshots and using the heated barrel as a makeshift burner, then he proceeded to pin him against the wall and stare into his eyes, his cold, dead veins emphasized by a white pupil and a stare that would frighten God himself.
Sebin was in tears.
“P-p-plea-please?! Do not kill me!”
He took the arm, and stabbed it through Sebin’s skull. Just as he did so, he heard several sirens.
“Oh great, the Police,” thought Lavin. He quickly disappeared into the darkness as the sun began to rise above the water.
Chapter Four: Matthias
An indiscriminate alley, in an indiscriminate slum, in an uncaring city in the fine country of Great Britain was home to almost anything that the mind of an adult could concot. As he sat above the small alley, on the rooftops of his home, he pondered silently why he should not throw himself from the top of the building. This man, suicidal and unwilling to live, had given up. He had a great life, a caring family, and a loving group of friends that had helped him through a lot in the past. But now, now was the time when he would throw it all away. He stood up on the ledge, and looked down below him, the stench of trash and garbage ripe in the air. He closed his eyes, his beautiful, blue eyes and looked up at god.
“I’m sorry.” He said solemnly, holding back a stream of tears that was dying to escape from his mind. As he felt his eyes water, his heart slow, his chest heave and tears flow freely down his soft, child-like cheeks, he descended down into the alley of the shadow of death. Now was his time for the beginning of a new adventure- but if he was right, his adventure would end here. He felt the air take him, the gliding feeling of the cold, wet air that was around him consume him as he quickly approached the ground. His body flying fast, his head held low, he was about to finally get relief from his pain. As he felt his coat flying in the wind, he saw the ground quickly approaching him. He sighed one last time as his body made a sickening crack against the ground, his ribs shattered, his kneck broken.
But the person who watched him descend would not allow him to die. She descended upon him, and took his body in her arms. As the life began to drain away from him, she bit into his neck and drained him of a small amount of blood. His neck, before was limping and lifeless- now it sprung up, a gasp awakening his eyes, his face full of surprise.
“Why? Why do you allow me to live when I want to die? Life is nothing but a perplexing puzzle, one that I can never solve. Why did you save me?”
“Because your future is too valuable to waste.”
He looked up at his savior, his damner, the devil and god all at once. He looked up at this girl, this woman, who was barely of age, and asked her:
“What of your future? You have a bright future ahead of you. You will not be lost, you will not wish to die. Whereas I, I wish to end my life. Your future will certainly be brighter than mine.”
“Do you believe in God, Matthias?”
The man, Matthias, a rough trick with a soft face, delicate eyes, and a stony disposition, winced.
“How do you know my name?”
“Do you?” She persisted. This girl, looking of Asian descent, was persistent.
“Yes.”
“Then why disgrace him by throwing away his most valuable gift, Matthias? Should we not treasure that which is given to us, and use it?” She stood up from the ground, letting him fall onto his back. He pushed himself up by his fists, his anger providing him with a powerful motivator.
“I do not keep that which is broken.”
“Oh, come off of it, Matthias.” She sighed, frustrated and sat on her feet as she looked over this suicidal man.
“Your life is what you make of it; what you were given was pure, untouched, untainted. And when your life was good, you looked at the bad. Why, why is it that coming from a family such as yours, a world where there is always food on your plate, a roof over your head and a fire to keep you warm at night, why, why do you still wish to end your life? You have everything that most desire, nothing that people would throw away.”
“That’s not the point,” he snorted, getting up on his feet.
“The point is, I was given these things. Given being the keyword. Do you think I wanted that? I want a life where, for just an instant, what I get must be earned, not given. I do not want to live this unfulfilling life where things come easily; I was born into a curse, the curse of aristocracy, the curse of an intellect five times that of any more intelligent beings. And that intellect is telling me more than I want to believe that I am to die. Finally, I believe that my conscience has gotten the best of me- I can no longer take and give nothing back, and it is time to end that life of taking.”
“But Matthias,” she said nastily, “if you take your life, you take the greatest thing from those who gave you anything- you take yourself. That is not only greedy, but a true testament to just how uncaring you are. You must live, Matthias.”
She looked down upon him, and began to smile.
“Matthias.. do you want to work for what you need? Do you want to live a life that not only fulfills your wants and needs, but the needs of those around you?
The needs of humanity?”
He pondered this question as he sat in the rain, thunder cracking the sky and the light of the lightning piercing the hearts of those who would sit inside, watching the god’s fury unleashed on the new earth.
Should I accept her wish, he said silently to himself. Impulsively, he began to bite his nails, the standard nervous twitch that so defined his character.
I have nothing else to do, seeing as now I cannot die.
He looked up to her.
“If you help me up, give me some food, and some shelter, I will gladly do as you wish.”
“Take my hand.” Her hand was small, long, and outstretched. The pale brown color which painted her skin was on her hand, it being as soft as a baby’s. As he grabbed it, he looked to her with tears in his eyes.
“Thank you.”
Matthias awoke fast, his eyes wide and pale grey with the expectation of what was to come. Again, he had dreamed of the night of turning, the night in which he was to become a non-human, a vicious monster which was to leech off of the kindness of other’s blood.
Wiping the memories of that long ago date away as though they were dust upon a fine mantel, Matthias arose from his bed and went over to the antique brown dresser directly across from his bed. Awakened quickly, Matthias was as sharp as he’d ever be when push came to shove.
He picked up a picture that was upon that dresser, an old picture with a long memory and a promise never fulfilled behind it. In the picture were him and three of his brothers from long ago, now dead and forgotten by anyone old enough to remember, excluding him. As he stared fondly at himself, unchanged by time due to his vampirism and undamaged by the tragic events that cursed his past so, he was reminded of just how precious those times were, and longed for them again. Alas, they were gone.
But his mission was not, his promise unforgotten. Though the people he had sworn on his blood to favor by completing a simple task had been long dead, his blood remained consistent, his will strong, his readiness to complete his wish and task as high as it was when it was made. Tired of failing at his attempts to make good on his word, Matthias set down the picture and spoke aloud to himself.
“I swore to uphold the Tenets, Brothers. And so shall it be.”
alien- Senior Moderator
- Posts : 140
Join date : 2008-01-21
Age : 33
Location : in the asgard sector
Re: Ancient Sectrets
la estrella emigra 3/3/2008, 4:49 am
who couldnt you post all this in one post eh
la estrella emigra- ensign
- Posts : 38
Join date : 2008-02-17
Location : Somewhere
alien- Senior Moderator
- Posts : 140
Join date : 2008-01-21
Age : 33
Location : in the asgard sector
Administrator Vortar- Administrator
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Join date : 2008-01-21 -
Re: Ancient Sectrets
Darkjedi 6/3/2008, 10:19 pm
OMG! You need a Freewebs site.
Note: I am NOT a spam bot.
Note: I am NOT a spam bot.
Darkjedi- enlisted officer
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Administrator Vortar- Administrator
- Posts : 226
Join date : 2008-01-21 -
Shadow Boy- ensign
- Posts : 32
Join date : 2008-03-09
Location : Switzerland
Re: Ancient Sectrets
Guest 18/3/2008, 11:42 pm
http://flashtrek.niceboard.com/stories-f31/ancient-secrets-t207.htm
Dont steal peoples work you idiot. And, to be honest. Delete my account, all I am doing is stopping idiots like him stealing.
And if you say that that username was yours, does that website have some sort of cult that likes to take VX usernames?
Dont steal peoples work you idiot. And, to be honest. Delete my account, all I am doing is stopping idiots like him stealing.
And if you say that that username was yours, does that website have some sort of cult that likes to take VX usernames?
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