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Post by Admin on Aug 15, 2014 6:59:38 GMT -6
500 years ago, two hearts joined beneath the silver, moonlit night sky.
Premise: “Hear Our Prayer” by Kajiura Yuki
It was a time of blood and betrayal, war and conquest at every turn. Countries were at each other’s throats, freely flaunting their egos for the sake of world domination. Love existed only at the end of one’s blade, where it severed like margarine from the bodies of the common man.
There were those who took pleasure in violence; those that prowled the night.
The people called them ... “vampires.” Yes. The fabled children of the night deemed as “fictional characters” by modern minds ... These fearsome creatures once roamed the earth, putting shame to the archetypical abominations glorified as “pop culture icons”.
Why did they suddenly disappear?
Where have they gone?
What power could’ve erased them from existence?
Those questions and many more run through the minds of believers; those that tread on dangerous ground, seeking an existence that should be left in darkness ... I’m one of those people—a fool fascinated by the beautiful human beasts. From the remastered tales of Count Dracula to the innovative, dark stories that drive humanity wild with fandemonium ... I love them all.
What led me to adore the human beasts were the stories my grandfather told me, while I bounced merrily on his knee ... One in particular, “The Romance of the Tainted Rose.”
OP: “Heaven in the Hell” by Mizuki Nana
~ — * — ~
Episode 1: Prologue—The Lovers—
In the dark of night, a young townswoman parted from an outing with the neighbors’ children, daintily garbed in her best attire. The moon stood like a silver dollar in the night sky, beaming coldly upon her buxom frame. The nocturnal symphony haunted her, playing its tune with every step she took.
“The moon’s high, miss.”
A hungry hiss mocked her with laughter!
She jumped, “W-wh-who’s there?”
“Say the right words, and I will give you leave. Speak wrongly, and you will die!”
“What do you want?” the young lady turns, and her eyes meet a foreboding figure of death.
“What do I want, you ask?”
“I will have you know that I am the daughter of a noble! My father will not stand for such behavior!”
“Where you’re going, my dear ... there’ll be no need for such arrogance.”
The cold figure parts his jaws, revealing hungry canines the size of nine-inch nails! The very sight of the nightwalker’s stare freezes the young lady in place!
The young lady drops her parasol onto the stone-tile pavement ... She watches her executioner embrace her curvy frame, incapable of moving a single muscle!
She shudders in fear, “What ... have you done to me?”
“You’re now mine to control ... and I enjoy abusing my playthings.”
“No ... Release me, I beg of you!”
“Your kind refuses *all* children of the night quarter in this world. To what extent does your arrogance delve, child? I came to play with you, yet you turn me away with harsh words? Threaten me with tattling? Hogwash! I shall take your life, *just as your kind has done to so many of my own*!”
The vampire’s cold, ruthless words chasten the young lady. Yet, to some extent, these words were human ... Pain sounded intensely from the vampire’s every word.
“Why,” the young lady weeps. “are you so angry with me?”
“Shut your mouth ... and die to me this evening.”
The vampire’s voice has lowered, but his eyes still burn with bloodlust ... His jaws close in on her throat, teased by the thought of blood dripping from his fangs.
The taste.
The smell.
The pleasure of savoring the young noblewoman’s bodily nectar.
“How lowly of you, my friend ...”
A voice strikes the vampire with a cold chill, before unbearable pain explodes from his heart! The vampire looks down, and notices an arm has pierced through his chest!
“... When you meet the Reaper a second time, tell him he needs to teach his children some manners. ‘Tis a shame that vampires prey upon women whom have yet to reach adulthood ... Oh well, I grow tired of you. Goodnight, you nauseating, perverse bastard!”
The stranger pulls his bloodied right arm from the vampire’s chest, allowing the lifeless corpse to paint the streets with ghastly pools of crimson ... The young lady turns, to behold a handsome gentleman of the evening tasting the excess plasma on his right hand.
“M-m-m. This one was fond of pure-blooded virgins. A classic, and rather refined choice. Virginal blood makes the best meal, but I ... no longer partake of such barbarism.”
His eyes meet the young lady’s frame, but do not burn like those of the murdered vampire. The stranger’s eyes seem gentle, almost loving.
“Who are you, sir?,” questions the young noblewoman.
“Lord Frederic von Alucard, at your service milady,” the gentleman of the night bows respectfully to the young noblewoman. “Please, milady. Do accept my humblest apologies on behalf of the ‘heartless’.”
The noblewoman giggles, “I thank you for your assistance, sir.”
She fetches her parasol from the ground, and turns her back to the vampire who saved her life.
“You’ve done right by me, sir. I shall see to it that my family returns the favor.”
“Wonderful, but before you go ...”
The words of the gentle-eyed vampire forbid the noblewoman from moving forward, “... I would ask you to the ball, but I’m not sure if you’d wish to grace the floor with one such as myself.”
“You’ve shown me great favor this evening, sir. I shall meet you there in my best dress.”
“Splendid, splendid. Our next meeting shall be a joyous occasion.”
“Indeed, good sir ...”
The noblewoman turns to the gentleman, but sees that he’s nowhere in sight! She looks everywhere; to the left, to the right, but still the man’s nowhere in sight.
“... Goodness, where the devil did he go? Or ... was that a dream?”
The dead corpse at her feet speaks of this night as being far from a dream.
The noblewoman returned home, in awe of her recent experience.
Her dreams were troubled ... The smell of blood was still fresh, but eventually left by sunrise.
Throughout the day, she is haunted by visions of the night before.
The neighbors’ children socialize with the noblewoman like always, showing her great respect.
Insert: “Lover’s Song” by Amarante
“Lady Maribel, your skin is quite fair and soft,” admires her lady friends.
“Yes, I would so love to know your secret.”
“Oh, please, Lady Maribel, you must tell me the name of your tailor.”
“Girls, girls, please,” she modestly giggles. “I do enjoy your compliments, but give it a rest.”
Everything seems normal to her, and the events of the preceding night eventually escape her memory. To the noblewoman Lady Maribel Newman, her heart wishes the nightmarish events of late to be nothing more than a dream. Still, Lady Maribel is unable to live without the fear of being attacked once again.
“Lord Frederic,” she whispers to herself.
Her butler overhears her.
“Did you say something, Lady Maribel?,” he wonders.
“No, Charles ... not a thing.”
“Lady Maribel. Is something troubling you?”
“Only your constant nagging, old man.”
“Oh, such abrupt defense is not of a lovely maiden’s character,” he chuckles, pinching her cheeks.
“Charles, enough mollycoddling!,” Lady Maribel blushes, and hugs the man that has become like her grandfather. “I swear, old man ... life would be dreadful without you.”
“I believe the same, my dear. I hope you enjoy your evening in the company of your associates.”
“Thank you, Charles,” she fetches her parasol and ventures into the crowded evening streets.
The carriage ride to Rutherford Castle takes a few minutes.
There, she dines and dances with the highest of the town’s aristocracy. The youth, the seasoned, all graces the polished floors, in observance of the Royal Family’s 23rd anniversary. Lady Maribel’s beauty surprises even the Queen herself, who pays respect to the young noblewoman’s elegance.
“You’re the spitting image of your mother, dear. I knew her quite well in our youth.”
“I’m honored, your majesty,” bows the noblewoman.
“Please, do join me for a stroll.”
“Yes, my queen.”
The Queen of Rutherford and the noblewoman traversed the palace, arriving to a balcony on the outskirts of the chateau—a place where the moon beams vibrantly. Lady Maribel’s breath is taken away by the image of the grand, immaculate view.
“I’ve never seen the moon shine so brightly,” awes the noblewoman.
“This is where I come to think of the past ... before I was turned.”
“Tuned?,” the noblewoman wonders. “What do you mean by that, your majesty?”
“Do you know *why* my king and I never grace the daylight?”
The Queen looks upon the noblewoman, striking her with burning eyes! Lady Maribel has fallen into a trap, and her life is but a kiss’s distance from embracing the white light!
“My lover saw his death because of you, daughter of Sir William! I have called you here to finish what he started ... by taking your life, you shameless little trollop!”
“Oh, Lord in Heaven,” drones the distant voice of the heroic gentleman, Lord Frederic! “and I didn’t even get to dance with you yet! My, what a pain ...”
The Queen of Rutherford gazes into her bedroom chamber, shocked to see the gentle-eyed human beast trespassing on restricted ground! “Your majesty,” Lord Frederic approaches. “I would ask that you release that young lady; for, it is I that you should kill.”
“Frederic? What do you mean by that?”
“I was the one who killed your lover, you unfaithful, bloodthirsty wench! To take it out on a poor, defenseless human girl ... I’d expect more from a lady of your caliber.”
“You killed him?,” the Queen outrages. “It was *you*? *And you dare set foot in my home?*”
Lord Frederic halts before the unfaithful vampire queen, standing between her and Lady Maribel. The noblewoman hides behind the vampire gentleman, shielding herself from the Queen’s murderous wrath.
“Queen Katherine, Daughter of King Edward, Descendant of the Master ... would you give this young lady leave?” the gentleman of the night shows no animosity towards the Queen, rendering her speechless. “She meant no harm ... I was the one who slew Thaddeus, not her. I believe it to be retribution for our king, a friend of my family. To what victory does infidelity lead, your majesty?”
“Don’t question me, Frederic!”
The Queen has grown tired of the vampire gentleman’s concerns. She turns, hiding her bloody tears from the man who slew her lover ...
“It was at best an impulse that I couldn’t control ... He wooed me, showed me the world—something my husband *never* did. My lover’s death drew me mad with anger, and I ... blamed an innocent girl for it ... Maribel, daughter of Lady Miriam, could you find it in your heart to forgive me?”
“Without hesitation, my queen,” the noblewoman bows to the Queen, receiving the blessing of her majesty’s embrace. “I would never wish you harm, Katherine. My mother was your friend, and I will a-l-w-a-y-s respect that ... After all, you are my godmother.”
“Oh, foolish me ...” the Queen takes the kindness of her goddaughter to heart.
Lady Maribel returned home after this ... in the company of the gentleman vampire, Lord Frederic.
They talked, found common ground, and grew to know each other. Their nightly meetings increased, sparking the concern of Lady Maribel’s family and her associates.
“What is with these nightly outings?,” questions her father.
Lady Maribel takes a seat on the living room sofa.
“Father, I’ve met a friend.”
“A friend, you say? Does this friend know the rules about nightly outings in this family? No more than two a week and that is final, Maribel! How many times must I tell you this?”
“Father, please. He’s a good man. He saved me from sudden death—”
“*Sudden death?*,” her father turns in an outrage. “*And you failed to inform me of this? What do you wish for me, child, an early grave?*”
“Father, please, your weak heart ...”
Lady Maribel helps her ill father to a chair, calming him with gentle words, “... I know you wish me well and alive, but I’m all right. Fortune favored me that evening, and I do believe I’ve found the man fated to be my husband. I wish you well, father; nothing more, nothing less ...”
She takes a deep breath, and prepares herself for what she’s about to say next.
“... Father. I died to him just recently ... I’m with child.”
“You’re with child?,” the nobleman gazes into his daughter’s eyes, seeing a gentle twinkle and an equally beautiful glow upon her fair skin. “Maribel, *my* daughter?”
Despite how much he wants to explode, Sir William can’t remain angry with her. Lady Maribel is happy ... She’s to be a mother soon, and her fetus is barely a few days old.
“Maribel, my dear,” the nobleman smiles. “I wish to meet this man. Please.”
“As you wish, father,” they embrace. “I love you so much.”
“Forgive me for upsetting you in these times, my dear.”
“Forgotten, father. Water under the bridge.”
News of Lord Frederic’s joining with a human girl reached the ears of the King, Henry of Aldington.
The very act in itself is considered “extremely blasphemous,” the highest of sins against the natural order ... Life and death cannot become one; therefore, those who break this law are considered “heretics”—Lord Frederic being the heresiarch of such behavior.
“The King wishes you dead, my friend,” reports a fellow vampire, hovering upon hardened airstreams before Lord Frederic’s bedroom window.
“Well, look who we have here,” the vampire gentleman recognizes his visitor, allowing him to enter his bedroom chamber. “If it isn’t the jolly Irishman, Father Paddington O’Shay.”
The Irish Vampire, a member of the Hierarchy of the Moon, sets foot on the chamber floor, turns and observes his friend closing the window.
“I’ve heard of the King’s anger, my friend,” Lord Frederic addresses. “So, tell me. Did the old boy send you here to relieve me of my inkling of life?”
“Not at all, fella. I came here of my own free will.”
“For what purpose, Paddy? Holding some unveiled grudge against me because I took a dip in the waters of transgression? Or, are we afraid of the spawning of a half-breed?”
“F-a-r from that, Fred,” the vampire priest rests upon his friend’s study chair, pulling his hood back to reveal a head of fiery hair. “I’ve been a member of the Radicals for over 200 years. Infinity sent me here to deliver a message of alliance on your behalf.”
Lord Frederic awes, “Infinity? You’re affiliated with those *murders*?”
“Not murders, Fred—‘rebels’ that have pledge a revolt against the Hierarchy. We see no wrong in the two races joining, and praise your efforts to show humans that we’re far from the nightmares and tales they’ve grown to fear ... People like Thaddeus, whom you killed with your bare hands, are the epitome of those silly stories—ruthless, coldblooded, scandalous and shameful. Your liberation of young Lady Maribel Newman sparked the admiration of our people.”
Lord Frederic is humored by these reports of wide-scale praise.
He titters with amusement, “Who knew one night of pleasure could go such a long way?”
“What of the little lassie?”
“Maribel is in her fourth month. I met her father not too long ago. Good man he is; welcomed me with opened arms, proud just to be a grandfather.”
“When’s the wedding, my friend?”
“Twenty moons from now,” Lord Frederic smiles.
He stares into the gentle glow of the heavens through his bedroom window.
“That’d be the anniversary of your late wife’s death,” Father Paddington recalls. “Why have a joining on such a tender day?”
“She’d want it that way ...”
Insert: “Paradise ~ Deep Mountain (Piano)” by ZUN
The vampire gentleman turns to his good friend, “... I know you can understand this, Paddington. Gertrude was a wonderful woman of exceptional beauty, elegance and intelligence, and it was her wish that I unite the races to destroy the wall of lies separating our society. There’re horrible vampires out there, but there’s also good ones—like the two of us ... and, our queen. I shall marry this human girl because I’ve fallen in love with her. My mind, body and soul belong to her—a gift that I wish her to have and hold forevermore ... Paddington, old friend. I wish you at my side.”
“You’re asking me to be your man of honor?”
“A holy man and a dear friend. No one could ever take your place.”
Father Paddington smiles, “I’ll have one of my men be the pastor at your wedding ...”
The vampire priest stands to his feet, hooding himself to conceal his face from the outside world. Father Paddington approaches the window, and opens it to greet the night air.
“... I’ll be there,” he promises. “And thank you, old friend. May God be with you, Fred.”
Father Paddington leaps into the nocturnal sea, his silhouette gracing the moonlight with majesty. Lord Frederic’s heart has fallen into a vast ocean of love, and has regained the humanity that he lost many ages ago. Just the uttering of Lady Maribel’s name fills him with joy ... To be with her is to be at peace, and that is why she carries his child. In the blessed name of the God, he wishes his blood carried throughout the generations in pursuit of finally uniting the races.
“Lord Frederic Norman von Alucard, do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?”
All other questions seem null and void.
He wishes to love and cherish Lady Maribel for all eternity. He wishes to honor her, never disappointing her or allowing her to go astray. In sickness and in health, Lord Frederic will be there by her side, as a God-given lover and protector. There exists no in-between, there exist no doubt—this’s what he wants more than life itself.
“I do,” he humbly answers.
“Lady Maribel Regina Newman, do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?”
The same can be said for the noblewoman.
She wishes to love and cherish him for all eternity. She wishes to honor him, obeying his word and his will, as the mother of his children—the love of his life. In sickness and in health, she will be by Lord Frederic’s side as a God-given lover and supporter. There exists no in-between, there exists no doubt—Lady Maribel’s greatest desire is to live with the father of her unborn child.
“I do,” she answers, gazing into her fiancé gentle eyes.
“*A-a-h!*,” a woman’s shriek upsets the entire ceremony.
Insert: “The Gates of Perception” by DenizchadoR
The joining lovers turn, and behold their parties in peril!
Bloodsucking assailants from the Hierarchy have surfaced, and are attacking the people—both human and vampire, not sparing a single individual in sight!
“*What is this hypocrisy—?*,” the pastor’s life is taken by bloodthirsty claws.
“*Aah!*,” the bride shrieks in fear, as she’s escorted out of the chapel by her fiancé and their best man.
“Seize the heretics!,” the leading assailant commands.
His subordinates cheer, “Seize the heretics!”
Lord Frederic and Father Paddington help the nursing Lady Maribel board the wedding carriage, where the expecting mother is reunited with her godmother, the Queen, Katherine of Rutherford.
“Katherine?,” Lady Maribel awes. “You’re away from the castle?”
“Calm yourself, child,” the emotional godmother eases the young lady, as she gazes upon the holy man and the displeased vampire gentleman. “Paddington, Frederic, we will meet you at the ship within the hour. Make sure to *ruin* those coldhearted fools. The baby needs a father, and it would be nice if his godfather were around as well. So please, don’t fall in the field of battle.”
“Ease your heart, my dear friend,” Father Paddington nurtures.
Lord Frederic seconds, “Cannon fodder are no match for men of our expertise.”
With a gentle hand, he caresses Lady Maribel’s cheek. “Do wait for me, dear,” he speaks with loving tone. “I will be with you in no time at all, I promise.”
“Return to me safely, my love.”
“As you wish, Maribel. Be off now. Love and peace to you, my angel.”
The Queen nods to their chauffeur, initiating the gaiting of the stallions. The wedding carriage is carried off into the distance, escaping the forthcoming massacre ...
... Lord Frederic and Father Paddington turn, and stare into the hateful eyes of seventeen Hierarchical vampires! They are soon surrounded by a horde of seething stigma and bias ...
“Who would’ve guessed,” one of the assailants teases. “A holy man accompanying a heretic?”
“God placed us on this earth to love, not to hate,” Father Paddington bears religious wisdom with a grave stare, signifying brutality if provoked. “Please, leave. We don’t desire any bloodshed.”
“Your sharp tongue won’t save you now. You and the heretic will die ... Then, we will pursue and slaughter the Queen, leaving only the human girl and the unborn abomination.”
“Who are you?,” Lord Fredric questions of the speaking leader assailant.
“My name is Father Christian White—the one revered as ‘White Album’.”
“*The Chanter of Elegies?*,” Father Paddington confuses. “*What the devil are you doing here?*”
Lord Frederic silently fascinates, observing proof from witnessing the silent conjuring of apparitions at the Hierarch’s feet. In a sense, he’s honored to be in the midst of a revered Hierarch but, at the same time, he despises White Album for ruining his wedding day.
“I see the rumors are true,” the vampire gentleman addresses. “White Album, Chanter of Elegies. You are skilled in necromancy, but you forget one thing ...”
“Oh? And what is that, heretic?”
“... The dead ... *cannot be killed by ghosts*!,” with those words, Lord Frederic advances and thrashes White Album in the core of his stomach with a brutal right upper!
(“*Such ... power ...*”)
The awed ecclesiast is launched into the foundations of the chapel!
White Album’s body crashes through the stone walling, as if he were bulldozed by a machine of the modern age, or a legendary titan of the olden days ... The fellow assailants of the incapacitated White Album shudder in fear of Lord Frederic’s unforgiving fist!
“You’d do yourself good by leaving this place ...”
The gentle eyes of Lord Frederic and the holy man burn with bloodlust! Still, despite the defeat of their commander, the thought of running away would greatly shame the Hierarchy. Thus, the vampires attack, stirring the excitement of the two Rebels.
“... You’re all fools,” Lord Frederic leads his comrade into battle. “Perish, all of you!”
“*Lord, forgive us our impending transgressions!*,” Father Paddington excites.
With brute fortitude alone, the holy man rips his exposed claws through the body of a single vampire! He pierces a crucifix upon his chest with his left index finger, honoring the fallen.
“May God see you in the afterlife, my foolish friend ...”
With great fervor, Father Paddington continues fighting alongside his dear friend, “... Y-a-a-a-h!”
The battle wages on for nearly an hour, painting the streets before the chapel with the blood of cowardly Hierarchical vampires ... White Album soon awakens from unconsciousness, only to discover the aftermath of a massacre. Lord Frederic and Father Paddington stand before the injured Chanter of Elegies with stone cold eyes. The ecclesiast is taken aback with shock!
“22 February, 1511—seventeen Hierarchs fell in defense of a cowardly, genocidal king who wishes the races at war for all eternity,” angrily announces Father Paddington. “One of the tenets of the Hierarchy is: ‘let all be showered with favor before the Eyes of God’. *That alone deems us brothers and sisters* ... The Hierarchy is a body of hypocrites, and thus holds no power over the people. I can see *why* Katherine so easily found another, though he was no better than Henry. You may go on believing in your twisted ideals, for a fool shall always be a fool. I don’t blame you for your ignorance, Chanter of Elegies. I blame the Hierarchy ... With that said, I hereby renounce my rights as a Hierarch.”
“*You dare betray the Hierarchy, you ginger-haired scoundrel?*,” White Album angers, receiving a dual hiss that sets him back into a respectful mood. “You ... won’t get away with this!”
“Get away with what? Freedom? Peace? Tranquility? You speak nonsense, Father Christian!”
“I speak the truth! Humans are food! They’re not meant to procreate an abominated race!”
“*Fool! Such ideals will only pay us with untimely extinction!*,” Father Paddington’s fierce words silence the cowardly White Album. “Chanter of Elegies, we bid you farewell. A life of peace is all we ask ... Why jeopardize the life of a child that has yet to see its parents’ smiling faces? Ask yourself that.”
“May your life have good fortune, Father,” with these final words from Lord Frederic, the Rebels depart from the incapacitated Chanter of Elegies, leaving him with his dignity.
ED: “Black Diamond” by Mizuki Nana
A grudge was born on that night ...
... one that will haunt the bloodline of the Von Alucard-Newman Family for generations. I recall a portion of the remainder of the story. If memory serves me well, Lord Frederic was killed ... Still, I don’t quite remember how and why it happened. Grandpa said it was for reasons besides his heresy.
There was something sinister happening in the Hierarchy at the time. I’ve researched many books about the story, and never once found a single page that surpassed that large excerpt ... It was as if the author wanted to conceal the final chapters, to keep his or her story shrouded in mystery.
“So, what do you guys think of my story?”
“Stu, I *hate* the person who broke it off so soon!” my friends merrily giggle.
“Yes, I agree. My grandfather was a man of mystery, so his tales were always foreboding and enigmatic. The Romance of the Tainted Rose, strangely named but still impactful, is one of the *oldest* tales of Rutherford, England. I take pride in knowing my country has such mysteries under its coattail.”
“So, Stu ...,” my lover’s curiosity earns my attention.
“What is it, Sweets?”
“... Do you *actually* believe vampires are real?”
“Expect the unexpected, that’s what I say. You never know *what* could be hiding in the bushes. Why, I’ve a mind to say there could be a vamp amidst us right now.”
“O-k-a-y, enough campfire tales,” Nattie rises from her spot before the campfire, stretching her drowsiness into a rough yawn. “I’m going to sleep. Coming to bed, honey?”
“I’m right behind you,” TJ joins his lovely wife. “Goodnight, guys.”
“Goodnight, lovebirds,” my lover wishes.
I then question him, “Damien ...”
“What is it, Daddy?”
“.... We’re all alone now, just you and me.”
I cradle against his finely curved frame, taking him in for a warm kiss. Damien joined my business ventures a few months ago, and we’ve been climbing the ranks of the WWE ever since. We fell deeper in love during those precious moments, and our relationship is public amongst our co-workers.
The fans ... not so much.
“Mmm,” I hold him close. “Your lips always get me going. Care to roll around for a spell?”
“Sorry, Daddy. I’m not in the mood.”
“Aww, my boy’s not in the mood,” I giggle, tasting his sweet brown skin.
“Daddy,” he giggles. “You’re going to leave a mark. That won’t look good on national television.”
“Then let them see and know the truth,” I growl and tickle him, making my boy giggle.
Everything seems so grand ...
... One could ask for nothing better. My career is booming. I’ve someone special in my life; a partner, along with a supportive group of friends. Save the rough-necked ginger that stayed behind. Our circle of supporters spans the countries. Many adoring fans cheer us on, though they know little about us.
It makes you wonder ...
... Why do our fans love us so much?
Don’t get me wrong. We take to their affections with the highest regard, bleeding, sweating and crying to give them a great show. It’s rare that we ever meet the full extent of their needs—selfish desires manifested en masse. The very foundation of sports entertainment was built on a desire rooted in selfishness; one that blossomed into something that overflows with opposing motives ...
... The events destined to unfold will open our eyes to the term “selfish,” and plunge us into the very depths of despair ... Damien and I would soon learn the truth behind the Romance, and why the rest of the story was hidden from those outside the Hierarchy.
It’s safe to say this:
Tonight will be the last peaceful memory we’ll have to remember.
— To Be Continued —
When the Moon Rises Again: Episode 2: Perception—Opened Eyes—
“May your eyes be opened to the truth ...”
“The truth?”
“... Aye, of who and *what* you really are.”
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Post by MelGabrielle on Aug 15, 2014 12:08:38 GMT -6
3 days ago: Me: *thinks: Every wonders if we'll have a reboot*
Today: Me: *comes on site and sees this*
^ My reaction! :')
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Post by Admin on Aug 15, 2014 18:41:32 GMT -6
3 days ago: Me: *thinks: Every wonders if we'll have a reboot*
Today: Me: *comes on site and sees this*
^ My reaction! :')
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Post by Admin on Aug 18, 2014 23:06:48 GMT -6
I awaken in a cold sweat, terrified out of my wits!
It’s odd ...
... I haven’t slept soundly since we left Lake Willington. These repetitive nightmares are annoying me. Every time I close my eyes, over and over again. How maddening!
“Stuart,” my worried lover awakens. “Having another bad dream?”
“I’m afraid so, love.”
“Is it about ‘that man’ again?”
“Nothing’s different, Sweets ...”
I wipe the sweat from my forehead, “*Cripes*. How many times must I shower in one night?”
“As many times as you’d like, Daddy.”
I’ve showered twice since we retired in this insufferable roach motel. God, curse the man who chose this place as a resting spot on our way to Rutherford ...
... Oh, wait. I made that choice.
Well, then I take it back, dear Lord. The last thing I need is more grief. I pray, could you spare an ugly mug like me the extra burdens, Heavenly Father?
I check the clock on the nearby nightstand, and ...
“Oh crap! It’s 5:56 AM *already*?”
“Mmm,” Damien grunts. “Time to get up then.”
Insert: “Bloom Nobly, Cherry Blossom of Sumizome ~ Border of Life (Jazz)” by ZUN
He gets out of bed, exposing the plump little arse I’ve grown to adore ... Mercy. Put that against a wall and it’ll leave a lipstick mark. Ha! Damien would kill me if he heard that.
“D-a-d-d-y, stare any harder and your eyes will fall out,” he approaches the hotel mirror, and notices how horrible his morning face looks. “Ack! I *hate* slumber. Wish we didn’t have to sleep at all. Curse the one who made sleep vital ... And those *damned* bed sheets always do a number on my hair.”
He notices me eyeing him from afar, “Are you going to stare all morning, or do I have to wring your neck?”
“Which one?”
“Which one what?”
“Which neck? The one that turns and bends, or the one that turns, bends and squirts?”
Damien gives me a look through the hotel mirror that could melt carbon steel! His little grin signals that he’s humored, which is good on my part. Everyone, make a note about my boy: Damien’s an animal in bed, a saint in public and a psychopathic, no nonsense fighter. I suffered a punch to the gut on our first date—my mistake mentioning his girlish figure. My abdomen still lives in fear of those fierce knuckles.
Then again, I allowed him to hit me ... My mistake.
“No need to fix the bed, love,” I hop from under the covers, undressing myself of my boxers.
Oh, dear. I’m harder than a brick in a sandbox. I haven’t seen my prick throb this hard since ... 8 hours ago.
Damien notices my hard member, “Did you get a woody, Stuart?”
“My soldier’s pretty much at attention. Don’t know why.”
“Your body’s weird, no offense,” he dips and brings his arse up with mesmerizing bounce.
I giggled, examining his hind parts, “Well, *there’s* a reason to get a woody.”
“At least you have a reason now, Daddy.”
Ah, there he goes, combing his hair in the mirror.
“Why are you so fascinated with your mane?,” he takes pride in that mass of silky, raven hair.
I’m stupid to question him about it, for obvious reasons.
“Oh, I must report,” I recall with a snicker. “You make the DIVAS jealous.”
“Really now?”
“Yes. I heard a few of them criticizing ‘the volume’ of your hair. Snide little comments they were.”
“Feh. Let the snotty broads hear themselves talk. Love the girls, but they need to give the envious remarks a rest. I’ve even noticed Nattie becoming a little discourteous.”
“Oh, she’s just having problems with TJ and—,” oops, I shouldn’t have said that.
“Problems with TJ?,” he approaches his suitcase and searches through it.
“Um. Yes. She expects he’s cheating on her.”
“Cheating? On her? Seriously?”
“Is it so hard to believe?,” I titter, expecting a smart remark.
“Like hell it is! Nattie would behead TJ and use his spinal cord as a backscratcher if that were true. You should remember how she was back in FCW—she slapped the taste out of Kiley’s mouth for rudely complementing her ‘stink-toned laughter’. Feh. Serves the Pinscher-faced bastard right, him and his crummy remarks.”
The story behind that epic slap is nothing short of hilarious ...
... Natalie and Theodore were separated, after having a mediocre spat over a rather comical ordeal. A few Superstars noticed TJ walking as if he were lashed with a cat o’ nine tails ... It was Nattie’s doing. She bought a non-name brand of toilet paper to get back at him.
That’s right, you’re guessing correctly: TJ’s allergic to non-name brand toilet paper! One rub of the insufferable material and his arse was redder than a blushing apple.
Nattie joked about her act of revenge to a couple of our coworkers, sounding loudly about it with her raspy laughter. That’s when Kevin decided to stick his massively pin-headed arse in the situation.
“Why do you laugh like that?”
“I don’t know. Why is your dick so small?”
“Because I’m staring at you, *Marmaduke*!,” his reference to Brad Anderson’s comic strip character tickled everyone in the area. “Why not get throat surgery? It sounds like you’re ‘toad calling’ or something.”
“*Bitch!*,” the slap Nattie gave Kevin sounded throughout Tampa, Florida, before she angrily stormed off!
I learned something that night: Never, ever, in your entire life, poke fun at Natalie’s voice. She’ll leave you numb in the jaws for days ... Poor Kevin. He couldn’t speak for nearly 24 hours.
Still, he deserved it. A real gentleman never antagonizes people, and he doesn’t make childish remarks about superficial topics—like a person’s vocal quality. That performance cost Kevin more than his jaw; he also lost a lot of respect, and had to regain it with time. Goodness, imagine the set of blue balls on that one.
OP: “Heaven in the Hell” by Mizuki Nana
~ — * — ~
Volume 1: Beginnings
Episode 2: Perception—Opened Eyes—
~ — * — ~
Ah, another shower. My body’s mesmerized by warm jets ...
... I lean against the shower wall, allowing the waters to trickle down my naked frame.
There was always something erotic about showers, at least to me. Taking them gets me in the mood, but Damien’s not in here with me; he’s outside getting our bags ready ... Hmph. He’d surely be in trouble if he were standing next to me. I’d own those pleasure cakes if that were the case.
Observing the shower floor, I notice trails of red flowing down the drain!
(“*What the hell is this?*”)
I look up, perceiving nothing leaking from the ceiling. I look down, still perceiving red trails ...
... And then, the trails disappear!
(“My word! Was that ... *blood*?”)
Thinking about it, that strange red substance also carried a scent ... It was fresh. Beautifully fragrant. I’ve never smelled anything like that before—a heartbreaking aroma, like the essence of life escaping one’s grasp.
(“Wait. It’s back?”)
Yes, the red plasma has returned, but it hasn’t a place of origin. I’m surely not bleeding, there isn’t a single gash on my body ... I wish someone would explain to me what’s going on.
(“Is this ... a hallucination?”)
[“Stuart.”]
A mysterious Scottish accent speaks to me from whereabouts unknown.
“Who’s there?”
[“May your eyes be opened to the truth ...”]
“The truth?”
[“... Aye, of who and *what* you really are.”]
“*Make sense, will you?*”
I pull the shower curtains back, to see only the closed off bathroom space! No one’s here but me, and there aren’t any P.A. systems in this room.
“Where the hell are you?”
[“I’m using my Existence to speak with you. All children of the night are gifted with one and, since you’re of vampiric lineage, you too possess this power. An Existence you’ve yet to fully awaken.”]
Existence. A supernatural power used by the Hierarchs of the Moon?
What the deuce?
“What kind of nonsense is this? Am I going mad?”
[“No, but you don’t want to make your lover worry. So, shut your trap and listen to me.”]
He’s right about that. Damien’s a worry-wart, and I wouldn’t want to upset him. Knowing my boy, he’d contact our company’s psychiatrist in a heartbeat.
(“Alright. Go on.”)
The faceless stranger continues by explaining something rather confusing, [“500 years ago, a vampire nobleman named Lord Frederic von Alucard loved Lady Maribel Newman, an aristocrat’s daughter and a human. Their romance brought forth new life—a half-bred dhampir named Christopher. The Hierarchs of the Moon, the vampire king Henry of Aldington, and Pope Leonard de Bleus were driven mad. They feared the intertwining of the races would jeopardize their food supply.”
(“Why would they feel that way?”)
[“The hunt, Stuart. The food chain was thrown off course. If humans and vampires were to interbreed, well ... let’s just say the vampires were looking at the ‘bigger picture’.”]
(“Bigger picture?”)
[“Aye. The hunt would end, and the food chain would become null and void. Lord Frederic, because he loved a human girl, was put to death after a 20-month chase across the borders of Europe. In order to save his wife and his 1-year-old son, he sacrificed himself so that his family may cross the ocean on the Queen’s boat. They came here to North America, in order to start a new life.”]
I recall the time, (“Er, let’s try to make this story short. Okay?”)
[“Shut up and listen. Maybe you’ll learn something besides tapping your lover’s arse.”]
(“Fine, fine. Yap away, smart-alecky bastard.”)
[“Like I was about to say—Maribel raised Baby Christopher in North American, where they both learned the ways of the Americans. After another 37 years, Maribel died of pneumonia. Now a full-grown dhampir, Christopher aged gracefully and lived 50 years before he found his wife, Lucille Crawford. Christopher changed his surname to ‘Bennett’ to hide his identity, especially from the Hierarchy. For several generations, the Bennett name was passed down until you, the last of the dhampir race, were born.”]
(“*What the—?*,”) I contemplatively awe. (“Did you just say ...?”)
[“Stuart, everything you *think* you are ... is a lie. A veil made to keep you blind as a bat.”]
Insert: “Ghost Lead (Music Box)” by ZUN
This voice. He’s absolutely right ...
... I was always different from others.
I’m fascinated by horror stories, tales of unexplained death. I find myself heating up a bag of popcorn to faithfully view such programming. Call me psychotic, but I’m fascinated by the afterlife. Vampires are the epitome of undead beauty—carnivorous, yet alluring human beasts ...
... I didn’t really believe the faceless stranger at the time; thus, I tried coaxing myself into thinking that I was having nothing more than a hallucination. (“Sorry, stranger,”) I contemplatively deny. (“Your words are much too farfetched. I shall take you as nothing more than stress, lack of sleep and bad eating habits.”)
[“Heh. Don’t want to open your eyes, eh? Then, how can you explain the blood flowing down the drain?”]
I return my attention to the trickling red substance he mentions. [“That ain’t some damned hallucination,”] he persists. [“What you see before you is an omen. It’s ready to be awakened; *been* ready, and damn well about to explode. Stuart ... Your Existence is calling!”]
... My Existence? This blood is ...
(“But I’m just a normal man. How could this be possible?”)
[“Your blood has fully matured, boy. Strange things will start happening. For instance, those visions.”]
(“What the hell?,”) I confuse. (“You know about my visions?”)
[“Aye, Stuart. Also, before I forget. You’ll begin feeling excessively strong, like a hundred battalions of soldiers. Your senses will become sharper than a blade, and many other things. Your dhampir blood can be silent no longer, especially when the Hierarchy is practically up your arsehole. Been hunting you for weeks they have.”]
What the deuce? The Hierarchy ... is after me?
(“If what you say is true,”) I wonder. (“how will I know a Hierarch when I see one?”)
[“A white hood or a crimson cross-and-moon pendant. Those are Hierarchs. Their followers are called ‘Gideonites,’ and they’ll definitely try to either kill you or rat you out. Watch out for these people, Stuart.”]
(“White hoods and crimson cross-and-moon pendants,”) I mentally make a record. (“Got it.”)
[“Innocent people will be in danger, including your precious little ‘Sweets’. If you think his fists hurt, well ... You haven’t felt an arm piercing through your heart. It ‘kills’ in more ways than one, kid. Now, I must go, but I’ll have ‘a few watchful eyes’ on your trail.”
(“Hey, stranger,”) I wonder. (“Who are you? And why are you helping me?”)
[“Don’t worry, lad. You’ll find out soon enough. Until we meet again, may God be with you.”]
The last of my body wash is rinsed from my frame. Still, the smell of blood hasn’t left my senses.
Damien and I left with our traveling party at precisely 6:58 AM.
Insert: “Lunar Clock ~ Lunar Dial (Piano)” by ZUN
We caught the first flight to the Homeland, beginning another overseas tour.
Our first stop: Dublin, Ireland.
A certain little ginger was thrilled about returning to his hometown. “Hey, Stu,” Stephen proudly initiates. “When we get back to Ireland, ya want to get wasted, fella?”
I bury my head in my copy of Wrestling Illustrated, “No thanks.”
“Aww,” he whines. “Why not, bud?”
“Stephe, the last time we visited a pub, you streaked the avenue singing Irish folk songs. For the sake of our company’s reputation, as if it hasn’t been *damaged enough*, I repeat, ‘No thanks’.”
Stephen teases with a serpentine smile, “You act like your mum’s breathing down your neck.”
“Huff and puff, my friend.”
“Aww, why not live a little?”
“I’ve ‘lived’ long enough.”
One thing you should know about this bull-faced ginger: he’s stubborn as an old ox, and we’re not just talking about his choice of hair gel here. Peep at how this unfolds ...
“Okay, consultation t-i-m-e,” he snickers. “Who’s giving the pipe? You or your boyfriend?”
I arch my eyebrow, “What are you implying?”
“Who’s the gully in bed, fella?”
“That’s none of your business,” I turn the page of my magazine. “Mayonnaise and ketchup.”
“Oh, fuck you!”
“Sorry, I’m not one for contracting fleas,” he shoots me a glare. “Hmph. *That* shut you up.”
Stephen and I are good friends.
The only reason he didn’t join our trip to Lake Willington: he didn’t have a partner, and currently still doesn’t have one. I referenced one of the ladies from the DIVAS locker room, but he lightly turned the suggestion down ... Good man. Keeping things professional.
Still, the night wasn’t the same without the ginger. Stephe’s an excellent storyteller.
“Hey, Stu ...”
His concerned tone earns my attention, “Yes, bud?”
“... What’s got you so uptight this morning?”
“It’s best left alone.”
I bury my head in my magazine. “Don’t give me the stink-face,” he persists. “We’ve been buds for a long, l-o-n-g time, Stu. No lies. What’s bothering ya, hmm?”
I turn my magazine page, “Stephe. It’s best left alone.”
Stephen pulls my magazine down and shoots me “the Stare”. The one thing that crawls under my skin with every exasperating second! It’s like looking into the eyes of a great white shark, before its jaws rip you limb from limb ... Cripes! One look from this pushy bastard, and you’d think you were neck-deep in seawater ... Oh, bloody hell!
“For the love of God, would you *stop staring at me*?”
“Talk, now,” he demands.
“Stephe,” I turn away. “You wouldn’t believe me ...”
“Fella, I’ve heard and told almost *every* story in the book. Try me.”
What I’m about to tell him will begin “the nightmare”.
“Alright,” I gravely ogle him. “Stephen. Do you believe ... in vampires?”
He arches his eyebrow, “Is this another one of your campfire tales?”
“No, I’m being serious. Now, kindly answer ... Do you believe in vampires?”
“Sure, but only when I’m watching movies or reading a hardback,” he giggles for a fleeting second, before noticing my solid, intense expression. “Whoa ...”
This look ...
... When my face distorts and bears this serious expression, as if I’m angry about something, the situation is of the utmost importance. “... Geez, fella,” Stephen composes himself and takes me seriously. “You’re really on it about this one.”
“You’re not answering me ... How about this: Have you ever smelled blood and, to you, its fragrance is sweeter than the world’s most aromatic perfume?”
Stephen doesn’t know how to take such a question.
To be asked such a thing ...
... No normal man would say “yes” to that. If one were to yay the question, they’d be considered “a mental case” or “a cannibal”. It’s either that, or a forensic scientist—they smell many difference substances when dealing with dead bodies.
After a short pause, Stephen answers, “No, I haven’t. It all smells foul to me.”
I close my magazine and make a serious confession. “I’ve smelled fragrant blood for the past few hours,” I place my magazine in my lap. “I was also mentally contacted by a faceless stranger. He told me things ... that have me wondering ...”
“Things?”
“... Eh, Stephe ...”
“Aye?”
“... Remember ‘the tale’? You know, the Romance of the Tainted Rose?”
“Aye. That be the one about the vampire knocking-up a human lass. Turned the Hierarchy bat-shit crazy with prejudice, and they killed the poor fella for it. Their half-bred son survived his parents, changed his surname and the legacy of the dhampir became a household topic. I’ve heard it t-h-o-u-s-a-n-d-s of times. Even told it to others myself.”
“Right. Stephe, that voice ...”
My pause earns Stephen’s intrigue, “... he said that I’m a descendant of Lord Frederic.”
Stephen is plunged into a state of silent awe! “I know, ginger bud,” I clutch my fists against my kneecaps. “It’s crazy to believe. *Damn* crazy ... God. Believing such nonsense would normally be beyond me; however, the things I’ve seen—no normal man could comprehend them ... I’m different. *Much* different from everyone else. And that scares me. I mean, what if—?”
Suddenly, a burning sensation pinches the nape of neck, provoking me to look over my shoulder ... and notice one of our coworkers glaring at me!
Stephen observes the watcher in question ...
... For some reason, I’ve ensnared Yuvraj’s undivided attention. The Punjabi bastard’s glaring at me as if I’ve robbed him of a valued treasure, or murdered a member of his family.
“... Have a problem, Dhesi?”
He answers me with an amused leer.
Stephen arches his eyebrow, “Who loosened *that* fella’s screws?”
“Indeed. It’s like having a staring contest with a basset hound.”
My sarcasm tickles my ginger bud, as I take a sip of my cup of joe. “Nah, you’ve got it all wrong there, fella,” he snickers. “He looks more like a bulimic bulldog.”
I damn near choke on my coffee in laughter!
“What the fuck are you trying to do?,” I wipe my chin clean. “Kill me?”
Yuvraj’s changing facial expression gives Stephen the impression that he didn’t appreciate the ginger’s snide comment. Feh. He’d be one to talk.
If anything, that Punjabi bastard is probably the rudest person on this plane. He’s disrespectful, vulgarly addressing others with terms such as “peasant” and “ingrate”. Yuvraj also flaunts his marriage like a rock on a sling, yet flirts with every skirt that passes him by.
Yuvraj gives proper gentlemen a bad name. A really, r-e-a-l-l-y bad name.
Hah! Wait a second ...
... his collar ...
... He’s wearing a scarlet cross-and-moon pendant! Yuvraj is one of them—a Hierarch!
Insert: “Eternal Waltz” by Yosei Teikoku
“Mr. Farrelly,” the bull-faced Punjabi addresses. “That was rather rude of you. I believe the ‘proper’ thing to do would be *you* ... issuing *me* ... a *public* apology.”
Stephen pays Yuvraj no mind. Thus, to get his point across, Yuvraj stands and reiterates himself.
“*How dare you ignore me, you pasty-faced, menstrual gnome?*,” he causes a scene. “Stephen Farrelly. I *demand* an apology for your snide remark!”
“Shut your bleeding piehole, Dhesi,” Stephen folds his arms with sardonic character. “It’s not like you don’t deserve it. Hell, you’re a *champion* at trashing others ... Funny. You can dish jokes, but you can’t take them. Oh, n-o. Let that happen and, oh my god, you’ll toss your tampons out the window in a hissy fit. Hmph. I knew I smelled a ‘fleeting, f-o-u-l stench’.”
“Are you calling me a woman?”
Yuvraj’s voice has closed in on us.
Wait, what? But that’s impossible ... I didn’t hear him move ...
... I look over my shoulder, and there he is, venomously smirking at me!
“Mr. Bennett,” he addresses. “You should teach your friend some manners. That was rather rude of him, calling me those h-o-r-r-i-b-l-e names.”
“H-hey, now! Don’t include me in this mess ... I-I’m innocent ...”
“You really believe that, Mr. Bennett?,” Yuvraj derisively laughs at me. “*Feh* ... I knew it. You’re nothing more than a dirty-blooded half-breed!”
Oh ... my ... god ...
... The voice was right. The Hierarchs are practically riding my tailcoat!
Okay, I had better put up a mental defense. Don’t crack, Stuart. Don’t crack!
“I ... don’t know what you’re talking about,” I bury my head in my magazine. “Away with you now. You’ve already made a scene. No need in—”
Yuvraj interrupts my rationality with a verbal assault. “You know, half-breed, I could kill you right here, and not give a *damn* about the outcome” he whispers in my left ear, sniffing my skin afterwards. “Uck! That revolting stench ... The lifeblood of an abomination!”
“What the?,” Stephen’s nervously questions me. “Stu. What’s this queer fella talking about?”
“Stephe. Be silent and ignore him, please.”
“Feh, I see,” Yuvraj giggles maliciously. “Hey, Mr. Bennett ...”
He looks over his right shoulder, eyeing my lover with a cold gaze, “... Your little ‘Sweets’ is sitting in the back, chatting cheerfully with the girls ...”
Yuvraj’s threatening statement fearfully stuns me!
“... So merry, so carefree,” he turns and sneers at me. “You must be very satisfied, being paired with such an influential gentleman. It’d be a shame if ‘something were to happen to him’.”
My grasp tightens on my magazine!
“You’re treading on thin ice with that remark, Raj ...”
My eyes darken with ire, “... Leave. Or I’ll *make* you leave.”
“No, I* won’t* leave you alone,” Yuvraj whispers in my ear once again. “If you disobey me, I’ll kill this smart-mouthed bastard sitting next to you. Then, I’ll slaughter every last person on this plane who isn’t a member of our Hierarchy. Afterwards, I’ll hold your little lover for ransom, and lure you off your high horse. I will then take your life and, if I’m bored with your precious little Damien, I’ll take his life as well. It’s that simple ... and there’s nothing ... you can do ... to stop me. Now. Either take the easy way and come quietly, or we do this ‘the hard way’. My advice: take the easy way. It’s much better for you, and everyone else.”
Stephen dismisses the situation, by turning his cheek, “Feh. This guy needs a shrink.”
Yes, Stephen fails at understanding the seriousness of things. He’s so bullheaded and stubborn that he loses sight of the bigger picture, rendering himself as nothing more than a victim of his own ignorance. His annoyed facial expression, propped on his right knuckle, speaks for itself.
Or, maybe that’s not it ...
... Stephen’s behaving too nonchalantly. How curious.
“Time’s up, Mr. Bennett ...”
Yuvraj snaps his right fingers, triggering a most bizarre reaction: everything and everyone in the surrounding area is frozen in suspended animation! My eyes widen with awe, as I also perceive a psychedelic tangerine color tinting the surrounding area ... My breathing rate is increasing. My mind’s incapable of comprehending what’s going on ... Bloody hell! What IS this all of a sudden?
“... Tell me. How do you like my Existence, half-breed?”
Yuvraj’s sudden question turns me to him in a startle! “It’s a little something I learned during my 876 years of immortality,” he gloats. “I call it ‘Clockwork Orange’. Time has been completely suspended within this metaphysical universe, and the ‘incredible’ has now become ‘credible’. For instance ...”
Yuvraj pulls a crisp 100-dollar bill from his jacket, whips it forward and makes the bill as straight as a board, “... *Example 1*. Behold, the power of my Clockwork Orange!”
The Punjabi assassin tosses the 100-dollar bill like a throwing knife, straight through the skull of an unsuspecting male passenger! Wait. That’s ... That man’s one of the technicians of our camera crew!
Cripes! Has this man lost his goddamned mind?
“If I deactivate Clockwork Orange right now,” Yuvraj malevolently explains. “without surgically repairing his wound, that peasant will *die* from severe head trauma.”
I dread, “*What?* This is ... insane!”
“Yes, Mr. Bennett ... Funny. I can only keep Clockwork Orange active for 5 minutes. It’s such a shame ...”
Yuvraj malevolently observes the impaled, suspended victim, “... That man approached me the other day, and proudly informed me about his plans to marry the woman of his dreams. This plane is bound for his fiancée’s hometown, where they’ve plotted their arrangements. How sad ... Mr. Bennett. All of this could have been prevented ... if you would have just listened to me. A man is about to die, and the dreams of a woman are about to be crushed—a-l-l because of *you*! *You lowly, abominated half-breed!*”
For a vampire, this bastard’s one hell of a lowlife. Coward! Piece of shit!
“... *How could you call yourself a man after this?*”
My voice overflows with disgust, and my face becomes quite dark ...
... I look over my shoulder, and glare deeply into his burning eyes! “That voice,” I recognize. “He was right. Hierarchs are nothing more than a bunch of mouthy, overconfident *lowlifes*!”
“A-h, so a Rebel has already contacted you,” Yuvraj bears his fangs with a bloodthirsty glare. “We of the Hierarchy do not fear the Rebels. They are insignificant. Feh. They can’t even slow us down, much less stand in our way ... Mr. Bennett. It’s best that you avoid them. The Rebels will lead you down a path where there’s no turning back. Where *everything* will die in your hands ... because we, the Hierarchy, wish it so!”
This man ...
... God. I’m beginning to abhor this bastard thrice more than before!
So smug. So arrogant. So cowardly. Spineless! Heartless!
If he’s a Hierarch, then he more than likely possesses a codename. I better play it cool with this ...
“Hmph,” I derisively fold my arms. “What do the Hierarchs call you? ‘Massive Jackass’?”
“I toss your sarcasm to the birds, Mr. Bennett. But since you asked ...”
The Punjabi assassin proudly extends his arms at his side, “... My name is Father Yuvraj Dhesi. Codename: Lord of Acid. A calculating Time Existence user; wielder of the incredible Clockwork Orange!”
Father Yuvraj Dhesi, the Lord of Acid. Existence: Clockwork Orange.
My very first antagonizer ... How frightening. Father Yuvraj’s ability to freeze time and defy the laws of physics is a nightmare that would haunt a war-torn soldier for decades.
“Poor boy,” the Hierarch lifts his right hand. “Here. Let me give you a pat on the shoulder ...”
Father Yuvraj lightly touches my left shoulder, and dislocates it!
Insert: “Lunar Clock ~ Lunar Dial (Violin/Metal Rock)” by ZUN
I clutch my shoulder and vault over in pain, “*A-a-a-a-h!*”
Damn it! That kills! My shoulder ...
“A-a-a-a-h! God, damn it all!”
... No, I can’t give up now. Get up, you damned ugly mug ... Get up!
“... Hurts, doesn’t it?,” Father Yuvraj taunts. “If I deactivate my Existence, you’ll never compete, let alone have the ability to give your loved ones a proper hug ... ever ... again.”
I lift my head with agonized expression, and quickly relocate my arm. “*G-a-h, fuck!*,” the pain’s excruciating, but it soon fades away. “Impressive, Father Yuvraj. But ... Is that all you can do?”
“Don’t test me, half-breed ...”
Father Yuvraj continues his assault, advancing into a right horizontal chop for my throat, “... I will have you know your place! Take this! *Chrono Burst Wave!*”
“*Shit!*,” I duck under his horizontal attack.
A devilish sneer distorts his face, “Wrong move!”
What the ... What is this burst of air?
“A-a-a-a-h!,” I shield my eyes. “*What the blazes is going on?*”
“Fly away,” his attack repulses me into the air. “*Mr. Bennett!*”
I’m flying, straight towards the walls behind me. But ...
... Wait. Why does it feel like ... my blood ...
... No. My entire body’s coming alive!
With sheer instinct, I laterally poise my arms, causing my body to glide to the floor ... Father Yuvraj applauds my performance, approaching me with an amused leer.
“Very good, Mr. Bennett. You’ve discovered an inkling of your vampiric talents: air manipulation. All vampires possess this textbook ability, even the lowest of our kind.”
“Why are you doing this to me?,” I aggravate. “*What do you people want?*”
“We’re greedy creatures, Mr. Bennett,” he halts several inches away from me.
Father Yuvraj shines his burning eyes upon my stationary frame, attempting to stiffen my muscles with his entrancing stare! I turn away from him, not daring to gaze into his eyes another second.
“Smart move, Mr. Bennett. Unfortunately, *you’re wide open*!”
The Hierarch draws a bullwhip from his jacket, and lashes it at me, “*Die, half-breed!*”
“Shit!,” I panic.
In my wave of terror, I press my back against the wall behind me. My evasion was quick enough to escape the bullwhip’s lash ... Upon looking down at the floor, I notice something rather disturbing: it appears to have been cracked!
“What would that do?,” my worries earn my assailant’s amusement. “What would happen ... if your Existence ... if Clockwork Orange is deactivated? Tell me, please. I must know.”
“Simple, Mr. Bennett ... *That* portion of the floor will collapse!”
His answer terrifies me!
“Hey, Mr. Bennett. Look to your left ...”
I obey his word, and notice that I’m cowering directly beside Damien and the girls! “... My, how ironic,” the Hierarch giggles. “Imagine what they’d look like plummeting to their deaths. The sound of their mortal screams. The deathly brush of wind against their feeble flesh. The eventual crash landing upon either solid ground or cold seawater *that will crush their bones to dust* ... Beautiful imagery, is it not?”
What? No ... No! That’s not beautiful at all ...
... I can’t. I won’t ...
“... No, please,” I plead. “Don’t do that. Please!”
“You’re in no position ...,” the Hierarch advances, and curls his bullwhip inward. “... to bargain ...”
With a speedy hand, Father Yuvraj unleashes a storm of lashes at me, “... *with me, half-breed!*”
For the sake of those onboard, I successfully dodge every single attack he throws at me!
Wild kicks!
“Damn it! Stand still, you damned abomination!”
“No ...”
Furious punches!
“Speedy, overgrown brat! Come back here!”
“... No ...”
Whiplashes that could kill a man with a single touch!
“D-i-e! All abominations must die!”
“... No, I will *not* die to the likes of you!,” I land and recover from a backwards leap. “All this prejudice, bias lowlife talk. Abomination. Half-breed. *Death to those who are different* ...”
I lift my head with burning ire, “... *That’s a load of xenophobic horseshit!*”
“Oh, as if you can stop me, Mr. Bennett,” Father Yuvraj taunts me by sardonically tugging his lash. “You have to be a little more ‘mentally flexible’ than that. Talk is just talk. Action ... Well, that’s not going to happen on your end. So, inevitably, the floor will collapse, and a-l-l boarded passengers will be sucked to their deaths!”
“*No!*”
“*Yes, Mr. Bennett!* Yes, yes, yes ... But don’t give up hope ...”
His sudden encouragement earns my attention, “... I can reverse the effects of Clockwork Orange. Yes, that’s right. I can turn e-v-e-r-y-t-h-i-n-g back to normal ... if you give up and surrender.”
“S-s-surrender?”
“Yes, Mr. Bennett. Allow me the honors of ending your miserable life. Right here. *Right now!*”
What? Surrender and ...
... lay my life down, before him ...
... and leave everything, and everyone ...
... no ...
... No, I can’t. I won’t! I have too much to live for!
“Yuvraj Dhesi. Shut ... the fuck ... *up*!”
He arches his eyebrow, “Hmm?”
My blood furiously boils, and my body reacts!
I drive my right fist into his left jaw, sending the Hierarch flying away, “U-w-a-h!”
Father Yuvraj hits the ground hard, and it appears as if I’ve dislocated his jaw ...
... I observe my fists with awe, amazed by the force packed into my first attack!
Insert: “Paradise ~ Deep Mountain (xi-on version)” by ZUN
“Extraordinary!,” I fascinate. “That much power ... *Unbelievable*.”
Father Yuvraj quickly relocates his jawbone, “*Ah* ...”
He sits up and gives me a sardonic leer.
“... Don’t sing your praises just yet, Mr. Bennett ...”
The Hierarch stands upright, and observes the wristwatch on his left arm. He laughs, amused by the time we’ve been at each other’s throats, locked in mortal combat.
“... This is too perfect,” he lifts his right forearm, and shows me his wristwatch. “It’s already been 2 minutes and 32 seconds, which means you only have *2 minutes and 28 seconds* left.”
That’s right. Clockwork Orange can only remain active for 5 minutes ...
... My word. That means this bastard is stalling me!
Father Yuvraj didn’t come here to kill me and only me ... He aims to kill everyone on this plane!
I furiously advance with reared fists, “I won’t let you get away with this!”
2 minutes, 28 seconds and counting ...
... Time flies by when you least expect it.
Clockwork Orange can remain active for only 5 minutes, which can only mean one thing: Father Yuvraj hasn’t fully mastered his Existence. If you’re a master, you have complete control over your subject.
Think, dummy. Think!
A loophole. Something. I must find something, anything—a stroke of luck, to end this once and for all.
Damien, Nattie, TJ, Stephe, everyone. Please. Send me your prayers!
“Yes, Mr. Bennett ...”
The Hierarch tosses several petrified 100-dollar bills in my direction, “... Run to your death!”
My antagonist’s projectiles cut at my clothes, forcing me to react instinctively ... I hop downwards into a baseball slide, discovering a sense of dexterity that would make high-flyers jealous!
Father Yuvraj is struck with awe!
(“*He’s matured this quickly?*,”) he fearfully contemplates. (“*How is that possible?*”)
With less than two minutes left, the dhampir blood within finally makes me do something ... incredible!
“*Shine, Paradise City!*”
The metaphysical world of Clockwork Orange becomes a few notches warmer, as my body illuminates with an immaculate, flaming golden light! The light shining from my sliding frame repulses Father Yuvraj, sending him flying to grounds several paces away from me!
“What? *U-w-a-h!*”
In his incapacity, Father Yuvraj fails to notice it ...
... his influences becoming null and void!
The laws of physics that were broken are corrected. Injuries. Abrasions. Environmental deviations. The knife in the crew member’s skull, ejected, and the wound, healed!
The smell of blood and roses trails the airways, and I notice something else: Father Yuvraj is unable to move! He’s stuck inside his Existence!
Feh. The arsehole. He gets what he deserves.
“Checkmate, bull-face,” I gloat. “I’ve won this fight fair and square.”
He grunts, attempting to speak, “What ... have you ...?”
“Existence manifests from a vampire’s blood steam. For a split second, I heard a voice in my head; a voice that beckoned me to call those words. ‘Paradise City’. The name of my Existence.”
“Paradise ... City?”
“Yes, Yuvraj. Paradise City ... is an Existence of *Sunlight*.”
“S-s ... sun ... light?”
A vague smile distorts my sharp chin, “That’s right, bull-face. ‘A vampire’s kryptonite’ ...”
I become serious once again, and point him out with my right forefinger. “... Now, *Mr. Dhesi*,” I speak demandingly. “Sit your arse down quietly, and explain yourself. Or I’ll have your lifeless ashes dance through the wind. Oh, and if I were you ... *I would choose ‘the e-a-s-y way out’*.”
Suddenly, my Existence deactivates ...
... What? It’s deactivated already?
I observe my hands, wondering how this could be possible. Paradise City was active for only a few moments, so how could it just disappear like that? Crap! And after I spat an arseload of trash talk!
Shit! The irony is enough to slice a man in half ...
... Father Yuvraj adjusts his coat ... and laughs. Wholesomely. Hysterically, as if this were a joke!
“What the hell is so funny?,” I growl irately. “You arrogant *b-a-s-t-a-r-d*. *How dare you mock me!*”
“You truly are a big fool ...”
Father Yuvraj snaps his fingers, and the Hierarchical pendant around his neck dissolves into celluloid dust!
I look down, and gaze upon the ashes of what appears to be a dud, and then confusedly ogle my opponent.
Father Yuvraj approaches me, his hands behind his back, “... to not know my pendant was fake—you are a big fool. Headstrong and tough like a bull, but foolish like a dodo bird.”
This change of attitude ...
... What on earth?
“What are you getting at?”
Father Yuvraj folds his arms and kindly explains himself, “This was a test set up by the man who spoke to you via telepathy. The truth is: I *am* a Rebel, and a former Hierarch. Think about it ...”
I pay close attention to what he has to say. “... Vampires are incapable of sensing your smell within closed spaces,” he explains. “Mr. Bennett. The Hierarchy is waiting for you in Europe, so our chief informant and scientific researcher, White Noise, found it best to give you a ‘warm up’ before our arrival.”
What the fuck? A warm up? What kind of ...
... Oh, bloody hell!
Insert: “Open Eyes” by Saliva
“First impression: *You’re a bunch of arseholes*,” my snappy response tickles the Rebel. “So, let me get this straight. That whole bit about the Hierarchy being on my back was ...?”
“... A cruel hoax to open your eyes,” Father Yuvraj smiles. “Crossing onto ‘unholy ground’ is forbidden to all Hierarchs. Hysterically, the locations we visit on our world tours are considered ‘impure’ by Pope Leonard de Bleus—the vampire revered and recognized as ‘Moody Blues’.”
Suddenly, Clockwork Orange deactivates completely, releasing everything and everyone in the area from suspended animation. “Come, Mr. Bennett,” Father Yuvraj turns and approaches the break area. “If we stay out here like this, everyone else will become suspicious.”
Damien looks forward and notices me following Yuvraj to a secluded area.
I know how jealous my boy can become ...
... I wouldn’t blame him if he lowered himself to eavesdropping.
“So, tell me, Yuvraj ...”
“Please. Just call me ‘Raj’. And I will call you ...”
“... ‘Stu’. I never took you for the cordial type.”
“Well,” Yuvraj giggles. “That was my fault. My apologies, Stu.”
You know, now that I’ve had the opportunity to speak with the man, Yuvraj isn’t as bad as I initially believed.
He’s a vampire, so he’s weak towards sunlight. As such, his full power can only manifest under moonlight. That clears a lot of unasked questions. Well ... Some asked, but most are the otherwise.
“Raj.”
“Yes, Stu?”
“Do all vampires possess an Existence?”
“I’m afraid so, my friend,” Yuvraj leans against the coffee counter. “Some more terrifying than ours. My Clockwork Orange is a C-Class Existence. Yours ... I’m pretty sure Paradise City is of the B-Class.”
“C, B? What’s with the alphabet?”
Yuvraj politely explains, “Existences are divided into six classes: A, B, C, D, E and S. All are equally dangerous, but their potency depends on the blood of the vampire wielding them.”
“Equal, you say?,” I wonder. “If we’re equal, then how was I able to win against you?”
“We’re equals, but your spirit outweighed mine. Your sheer instinct drove you. Furthermore, your brawn outwitted my brain because I was mentally shocked—your growth, it was so *rapid* that I could barely keep face. No mere vampire can evolve in such a short amount of time. Still, I always believed the stories about half-breeds were nothing more than exaggerated fables. I suppose I’ve been proven wrong.”
He’s laughing. This is the third time ...
... I see. He’s comfortable. That’s nice, but ...
... Wait. His initial statement.
Is he saying ...
... that dhampirs are stronger than vampires?
If that’s true, then I can now see why the Hierarchy wants me dead ... If I mature and become strong enough, I could very well clean their morale to a bloody polish.
“Stu. Hear me out ...”
His honest tone turns my attention to his extended right hand, “... Let’s put the affairs of the past behind us.”
“Raj. I ...”
“In order to remain covert, I had to put up a physical, behavioral front. I hurt you and many others in the process and ... What I’m trying to say is ... I’m sorry, Stu. Would you be kind enough to excuse my rudeness?”
He’s being sincere.
For the first time since we met back in FCW, Yuvraj Dhesi, the biggest arsehole in this godforsaken company, is finally being a respectable person. “... can’t say no to that,” we shake hands like gentlemen. “Water under the bridge, my friend. Glad to see you’re finally coming around, after God knows *how* long.”
“O-h. How cute ...”
A frighteningly familiar voice arises behind me, “... Two men shaking hands, *confined in a remote area for over five minutes*. What are you two doing back here, *Daddy*?”
I turn to a fierce glare from none other than ... Damien. Oh boy.
“Oh, nothing,” I smile. “Just having a little man-to-man chat. Right, Raj?”
Yuvraj smiles and nods, “Yes, just a chat ...”
He observes my boy and bows respectfully. “... about how *sincerely* embarrassed I am,” he stands upright and extends his right hand to Damien. “Mr. Crosse. My initial behavior towards everyone was unprofessional, arrogant, self-centered, overindulged and absolutely ignorant. A poor representation of my people. I cleared these grounds with Stu, so now I ask you the same question ... Would you be kind enough to excuse my rudeness?”
Damien turns his back and folds his arms, “No. Cutesy talk won’t earn my respect.”
“Oh, I see,” Yuvraj lowers his head. “I suppose I deserve—”
Suddenly, Damien turns and gives Yuvraj a big hug!
“I, uh ...”
Yuvraj’s face blushes purple, “... Mr. Crosse, I—”
“Shut up, Raj ...”
Damien’s sudden demand silences Yuvraj. “... I missed you, I really did,” my boy squeezes him, and releases the Punjabi vampire with a smile. “It’s going to be fun, touring Europe with my big Ducky Face.”
“D-Ducky,” Yuvraj’s expression becomes dark with embarrassment. “Ducky Face? Me?”
I burst into laughter, never once realizing how much of a “duck” Yuvraj can be. “And let’s not forget about my big, giggling *Goosey Face boyfriend*,” Damien’s sudden comparison freezes me with embarrassment. “I never thought I’d travel the world with the Funny Farm. Must be my lucky year.”
I look into a nearby mirror, and observe my mug ...
ED: “Black Diamond” by Mizuki Nana
... a goose ...
{“H-O-N-K!”}
... Damn it! Why, I ought to ...
... I crack my knuckles and snicker at Damien. “Oh, S-w-e-e-t-s!”
“No, Stuart Alexander Bennett, ” he blushes and overdramatically backs away. “N-o! You cannot ... *touch me*!”
“You cannot ... *touch me*!,” I playfully mock, threatening him with tickle fingers. “Then you better run, or I will ... *touch you*, Damien Isaiah Lewis Crosse! It’s giggle-tickles t-i-m-e!”
Yuvraj observes our playful departure from the break area ...
... He steps out, and witnesses our gleeful merriment.
(“Stuart Alexander Bennett,”) he contemplatively admires. (“Yes. He most definitely reminds me of ‘him’. That personality ... Fierce and fiery, yet invigorating and motivational. Just like the rising sun ...”)
Our playtime humors a few passengers, but others ... They’re just annoyed.
“Crosse, Bennett,” humoredly scolds our boss Stephanie. “Would you two sit down already?”
“Kay-kay,” Damien giggles.
I jovially nod to her, “Anything you say, Mrs. Lévesque.”
Stephen giggles under his breath.
(“Good job, fella ...”)
He grabs my magazine and begins reading it, (“... Hmph. This promises to be one h-e-l-l of a world tour.”)
Father Yuvraj Dhesi.
Age: 876.
Codename: Lord of Acid.
Existence: Clockwork Orange.
Father Yuvraj is a covert member of the international radical group Infinity. He is a man who parades as an arrogant, smug villain known to the WWE Universe as “Jinder Mahal”. In reality, Father Yuvraj is really a kind soul fighting to unite the races, and is a respected scholar. His Existence is rooted in intellect, and he’s a refined warrior capable of bending both the laws of physics and spacetime. I’m fortunate to have him as an ally; for, he’s an extremely dangerous opponent indeed.
(“... Maybe,”) the Rebel proudly contemplates. (“No. Not just yet ... He has a l-o-n-g way to go, before he’s strong enough to unite the feuding races ... Paradise City. My. Such a fitting name.”)
Amid my playtime with Damien, a question comes to mind ...
... Who is the Rebel called “White Noise”?
His voice sounded so familiar, almost as if I heard it every single day.
I wish to know who this faceless, vulgar-tongued informant is ... He may very well become my strongest asset, in this war of prejudice and bloodshed.
— To Be Continued —
When the Moon Rises Again: Episode 3: Perception—Pain Without Love—
“I won’t attack you now ...”
“You bastard ... *Then why show your face?*”
“... because ... I want you to feel my pain. Bit by a-n-g-u-i-s-h-i-n-g bit.”
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Post by ladymaestra on Aug 19, 2014 17:28:43 GMT -6
I never thought I'd see this again...I'm so glad you brought it back!!! Even though a lot has changed since then, it's good that you're sticking with the original version. However, I wouldn't mind if you decide to make a few changes here and there. Can't wait to see the updates!!!
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Post by Admin on Aug 19, 2014 17:39:29 GMT -6
I never thought I'd see this again...I'm so glad you brought it back!!! Even though a lot has changed since then, it's good that you're sticking with the original version. However, I wouldn't mind if you decide to make a few changes here and there. Can't wait to see the updates!!!  |
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Post by Admin on Aug 23, 2014 0:48:30 GMT -6
Our plane lands in Ireland at precisely 6:32 PM.
The sun is setting. Painting the heavens with shades of orange and turquoise ... I’ve always enjoyed watching the sun set, contemplating what events will unfold ... once the moon claims the night sky.
During these times, I enjoy observing the outdoors with my boy.
Damien never complains.
I’ve come to realize Damien likes when “Daddy” holds him. He’s affectionate and warm ... The type that’d make Mummy proud of her son. Hell. After looking at a few of his pictures, Mummy said to me, “Well, *he’s* a cute little number. Good form, Stu-my-boy. Quite the impressive catch you’ve got there.”
I blushed when she handed me those verbal flowers.
Unfortunately, I was subsequently introduced to the person I inherited my mannish sense of humor from ...
... Yes, my Mummy ...
... She went on to ask me, “How many times have ya dug in his gold mine?”
I droned, surprised by my mother’s vulgar behavior.
Fortunately, our phone conversation was held in the privacy of a hotel room, when Damien was out socializing with friends ... Yes, I know. Feed me a-l-l the bad comments in the book.
To be honest with you, I’m not a total arsehole. I’m actually a good-natured fellow ... Frankly speaking, I can’t stand associating with a select few of our so-called “coworkers”. Dreadful set of bastards they are.
Mm. Stephen’s beaming like an Irish lighthouse.
The last time I saw him this happy, it was 2-for-1 night at the local pub. I have trouble comprehending some Irishmen—getting hammered at the drop of a pin. It’s rather ... disturbing.
Men aren’t themselves when they’re drunk ...
... I should know ...
... A few years ago, when I was smashed after a night out with friends, I said unspeakable things to Damien. Obviously, my boy nailed me in the bullocks with his size-12s. I was numb for days, and my sperm count suffered a bit ... Okay. The “sperm count” comment was an exaggeration, but you know what I mean.
Oh. You will be proud of me. I haven’t put a single glass to my lips. Champagne. Beer. Wine. Rum. Liquor of any kind, nothing for several years ... Although, I’m ashamed to say I snuck a beer into my bag about a week ago.
Ironically, it came up missing, and Damien got on my case about it shortly thereafter ...
... Yeah. He took it from me and threw it away. Still, I can’t blame my boy for doing that.
It was the fear of seeing me in “that state” again—impaired and at a loss of judgment—that drove Damien to do it ...
... I admitted to my problem, and entered a 10-Steps Program to completely wean myself of alcohol.
I should be somewhere on Step 7 by now ...
... Oh dear. Forgive me. I tend to ramble on at times.
Hmm. “That state” ...
... Contemplating the phrase a second time, it’s become clear to me ... Everyone has “another side”. A monster. Something we keep bottled up inside, unwilling to reveal let alone speak about with others.
I wonder ...
... Am I strong enough to suppress that monster? Or ...
... or ...
... am I as weak as I think I am?
Yes, I wonder ... Am I really just another member of a barrel of fools?
OP: “Heaven in the Hell” by Mizuki Nana
~ — * — ~
Volume 1: Beginnings
Episode 3: Perception—Pain Without Love—
~ — * — ~
Damien and I rented a room at the Loch Kavanagh for the evening, along with several other coworkers.
“Enjoy your stay, gentlemen,” the desk clerk wishes. “Goodnight to you both.”
I wish pre-departure, “Many thanks, Miss. Goodnight.”
“Take care,” Damien also wishes. “Goodnight.”
Normally, this place is a little rough.
I’m surprised to see new personnel, save the arsehole at the front door. Always parading like an alpha male. Spitting awkward, uncivilized jokes to total strangers ... Perverted wanker.
[“How was your flight, Stu?”]
Hmm?
Oh, that’s right.
The voice of White Noise is speaking to me again. (“Shitty,”) I mentally reply. (“Any other questions?”)
[“I hope Father Yuvraj didn’t hurt you. He’s one headstrong son of a bitch. Always has been, always will be.”]
(“I’ll say. The clever, volatile bastard coaxed me into discovering my Existence.”)
Damien and I enter an elevator.
Since my hands are full, my boy does the honors of pressing the Level 5 button. [“Well, well, w-e-l-l,”] White Noise giggles, making me smile. [“That turban-wearing, bull-faced mug actually pulled it off. Then again, he *is* a man of his word. Old Raj said he’d make you ‘see the light, even if it killed’ him. Heh. Now *that’s* dedication. Hell, the man went out-of-character and booked a seat in *coach* just to be in the same plane as you.”]
(“*Seriously?* He did *all that*? Good grief ...”)
Rethinking my former encounter with Father Yuvraj, I’m fascinated. Simply fascinated!
(“... That man is a genius. He missed me on purpose ...”)
[“Oh? Did he now?”]
(“... Yes, White Noise. His attacks were half-executed. He wasn’t trying to hurt me; he was scaring me ... Rousing my vampiric blood ... Awakening my Existence. Paradise City.”)
[“Feh. Nifty-sounding Existence you’ve got there.”]
I can tell this arsehole is being sarcastic. After the shit I’ve been through, I should sock his grill off ...
... But now’s not the time for violence. Thus, I take his boorishness with a grain of salt.
[“But word of advice: You’d do yourself good learning how to keep it active.”]
(“Well, *you’re* the expert here. So, tell me. How do I keep my Existence active?”)
[“Focus, Stu, focus *hard*,”] he becomes serious. [“Keep face and never get lost in the moment. Always keep a cool head. Don’t think you’ve won before physically deciding your encounters ... Heh. Sounds familiar?”]
I silently choke, tickling the faceless informant. [“But seriously, Stu,”] White Noise recomposes. [“Your Existence is an extension of yourself. It’ll think the same; that you’ve no further use for it in your current situation. Paradise City is highly empathic—tied to the mind, body and soul of its wielder. Its name is proof enough.”]
Paradise City ... He makes my Existence sound as if there’s so much more to it.
So, if Paradise City is more than an Existence of Sunlight, then ...
... what else is there to know?
[“Stu ...”]
(“Yes, White Noise?”)
[“... your Existence ... is a manifestation of God.”]
What? Paradise City is ...
... a manifestation of God?
White Noise’s words are nothing short of amazing! This power ... this Existence ... my Existence ...
... is one with God? Incredible ... Absolutely incredible!
[“Paradise City responds to you as He would. When you need Him, He’s there. If you don’t need Him, He sits and waits for you. He’s always there, but He won’t act unless you truly need Him ... That’s why I said it’s best to keep a cool head, especially with a sentient, empathic Existence like yours ...”]
Our elevator reaches Level 5, and the door opens.
White Noise continues, as Damien and I proceed towards our hotel room in the distance, [“... Stuart. When you finally learn how to handle Paradise City, you’ll very well be the strongest of *all* Existence users.”]
The strongest? Me?
I see. The Hierarchs’ fear ...
... As time goes on, the reasons behind that fear become clearer and clearer.
Wise men and theologians believe the Three Heavenly Bodies—the sun, the moon and the stars—are the “eyes and ears of God”. The sun monitors the daytime, the moon monitors the nighttime, and the stars are God’s many messengers scattered about the cosmos. I was always fascinated by Theology, and ...
... I do believe this theory to be true.
Compare this theory with my current situation:
The Hierarchy is a coven of bias, bloodthirsty vampires. This innate stigma has been passed down for generations, dating back to the first vampire—an ancestor of Lord Frederic: the fabled Count Osvaldo von Dracula.
After two hours of extensive, genealogical research about Lord Frederic, I discovered the reason behind his romance with the lovely Lady Maribel Newman ...
... Lord Frederic wanted to end the hatred his great-grandfather, Count Von Dracula, began 700 years prior to meeting Lady Maribel. As such, he even changed his surname. “Frederic von Dracula” became “Frederic von Alucard”—a gesture not meant to hurt his family members, but to reinvent his personal image.
Yes, Lord Frederic was that ballsy. He approached the Hierarchy, devout followers of Count Von Dracula, and legally changed his surname. This happened a month before he met Lady Maribel.
His personal alienation from the Von Dracula name stirred the attention of the Hierarchy ...
... The wound left behind by his actions began a season of depression for Count Von Dracula. The very thing that made His Holiness, Pope Leonard de Bleus, despise the rebellious Lord Frederic.
The vampires’ hatred for humans saw higher levels of hostility; levels so ludicrous that several Hierarchs saw the irrationality of the Pope’s decisions. King Henry of Aldington pardoned such behavior ... This allowed the uneasy Hierarchs to realize that even the Royal Family were inhumane, bloodthirsty tyrants. All except for one ...
... the Queen, Katherine of Rutherford.
After secretly aligning with the humans, Queen Katherine personally formed the rebel organization “Infinity”. A radical alliance of humans, vampires and other creatures of the night with a like cause ... To unite the races and end the bloodshed that has veiled the eyes of man for generations.
Father Paddington O’Shay, a B-Class Existence user and a child of the night, acted as a messenger to Infinity’s global mass of clients. The Queen summoned Father Paddington shortly after the death of her lover—a bloodsucker named Thaddeus Elmer Beatles—at the hands of Lord Frederic. She knew Thaddeus’s death would greatly upset the Hierarchy, and the motive behind the murder further angered them.
The Hierarchy’s stigma reached an all-time high ...
... proven by the Pope sending an assassin group to sabotage Lord Frederic and Lady Maribel’s wedding ceremony.
Father Christian White—the Hierarch revered as “White Album, the Chanter of Elegies”—led the assassin group. Despite failing his mission, the grudge created on that night b-u-r-n-e-d in Father Christian’s heart ... and probably still does to this very day ... growing bitterer and bitterer by the second.
After Lord Frederic’s unexplained death, Infinity took an alternative route by securing the escaped Queen Katherine, Lady Maribel and Baby Christopher via their North American Branch. Even after Lady Maribel’s death from pneumonia, Infinity continued securing the Queen and the dhampir child.
Their names were legally changed by the American Government. Unfortunately, their lives were racked with constant, stigmatic struggle.
Renamed “Katherine and Christopher Bennett,” the immortal refugees lived under the word of their allies. Informants, such as the faceless White Noise, were loyal to them for generations, gifting them with a road to peace. From what I uncovered during my studies, Katherine and Christopher are still alive.
Infinity probably sent White Noise to my aid by request of the Queen. As a result of these concerns, White Noise—with his arrogant, pompous arse—has nagged me for the past 24 hours. I’m not crazy for saying this ...
... I r-e-a-l-l-y wish Maribel would’ve opened her legs to a human, instead of a vampire!
[“Evening, Stu. What’s on your mind, eh?”]
Tch! Well, what do you know? If it isn’t “Exhibit A”.
(“White Noise. I know you’re concerned about me, but ...”)
[“Y-e-s?”]
(“... I’m making love to my boyfriend. Give me a few minutes, will you?”)
[“W-e-l-l, since you don’t *want* my help,”] the faceless informant sardonically clears his throat. [“Fine. Cum a few times. *If* you can last that long ... Then, I’ll just idle by while a Hierarch slaughters you and your precious little sugar cakes for dinner. I’ll probably sip on some tea to rub it in your face, ya horny prick.”]
O-h! Fine! The stubborn bastard ...
(“Okay, okay. You win. Make it quick.”)
[“No, ‘quick’ is your bust count. This is going to take some time, my friend.”]
(“White Noise. Are you calling me a ‘1-minute man’?”)
[“Oh, so you have a brain after all? Good. It’ll come in handy. Now listen up ...”]
If he weren’t my informant, I’d break his chops in. Then again, I don’t know what the bastard looks like let alone his whereabouts ... Oh well. Might as well hear him out.
[“... The Hierarchy is on the move,”] his report quietly unnerves me. [“Oh, and forewarning—this isn’t a test. A Hierarch has been following you for quite some time.”]
(“Really?,”) I confuse. (“I thought Father Yuvraj said the Hierarchy forbids crossing on ‘unclean territory’.”)
[“Yeah. Turns out ... we were wrong.”]
White Noise’s words nearly freeze me solid. [“The Hierarchs are sneakier that we thought,”] he continues. [“The Hierarch revered as ‘Backdoor Man, the Gates of Perception’ is on a crash-course with the Smackdown roster. Hotspot: Kingsley. That’s about a week’s travel before reaching Rutherford.”]
(“Indeed. Traveling the Old Waylander Road would cut the trip by a few days, but our traveling party’s much too big to risk traversing those old roads. Taking that route would definitely spell trouble for our tires.”)
[“Exactly, Stu. The company doesn’t have much of a choice in the matter. It’s either that or road trouble, just as you said ... Oh, and for the record: Backdoor Man is skilled and h-i-g-h-l-y dangerous, just like Father Yuvraj. The old Time-bender may not be there to support you, so you must promise me one thing ...”]
(“What’s that, White Noise?”)
[“... Keep a cool head, bro. Mankind depends on your survival. Oh, and keep little Damien safe.”]
(“Oh God ...!”)
I hear White Noise snort derisively, [“Why are you swearing the Lord’s name?”]
(“... Isn’t it obvious?”)
[“... Eww,”] he disgustingly understands that I just ejaculated. [“Need some alone time, 1-minute Champ?”]
(“*Excuse me?* I was going for a solid hour, until *you* barged in and ruined my concentration. Arsehole.”)
[“W-o-w. Can’t count. Can’t concentrate properly. Typical rookie on *more* than one level.”]
(“*Oh, go away, damn you!*”) I mentally snap.
I somehow successfully chase him off, [“Alright! Don’t squirt your menstruation on me, Ms. Sassy Pants! Gees!”]
That disrespectful, foul-mouthed, arrogant, pompous son of a bitch ...
... calling himself “my ally,” when all he does is ...
... I swear. I’m r-e-a-l-l-y starting to hate him.
“Daddy ...”
“Yes, Sweets?”
“... Why do you look like you’ve been in a heated argument with someone?”
Damien kisses my neck, laid comfortably at my right side.
I shake my head with a fibbing grin. “S-t-u-a-r-t Alexander Bennett,” he scolds. “Don’t give me that tooth-and-cheek, sugar-berries-and-crumpets act. I know when you’re upset. Now, please. Be out with it, love.”
“... Damien. This is going to sound rather immature, but ...”
“Yes?”
I blush and scratch my head, “... am I ... a ‘1-minute man’?”
“Well, if you add 89 minutes to that 1 minute,” he giggles. “I’ll be m-o-r-e than happy to yay that query.”
“Oh, really?,” I smile. “An hour and a half. What a relief.”
“What made you so insecure?”
Damien cradles against me. He runs his fingers through my soft mane, comically provoking me to growl like a lion ... Damien giggles sheepishly, as my lips tickle his neck.
“Oh! Okay, I take that back—I take that back! That’s my sweet spot, Stu, cut it out!”
“M-m-m ... Sugar sweet. Yummy and tasty ...”
I bury my jaws in his neck, and he suddenly pushes away in pain, “Ouch! You bit me!”
“O-h, I,” my eyes widen with shock. “I did *what*?”
How absurd! I didn’t BITE him, I merely nibbled on his skin.
“No, you bit me, look,” Damien shows me his left jugular.
I perceive small, sharp teeth marks, and a little blood surfacing.
“That’s strange,” he looks into my mouth and sees something unusual. “Um, Stuart ...”
“Yes, dear?”
“... Most of your teeth look like canines. Sharp ones ...”
“... Pardon me for a moment, love,” I leave the bed and head for the bathroom mirror.
When I arrive to our hotel bathroom, I turn on the light and look in the mirror.
Damien follows me there, and arrives as I observe my teeth ...
... By Jove! It’s as he said ...
... Every tooth in my mouth has become canines, like that of a carnivorous animal! These teeth ... are made for quick shredding and slicker chewing. Razor sharp fangs as clear as the morning sun!
Wait ... My word! My oral bone structure silently altered in the past seven hours?
This is ...
... this is unbelievable!
“Stuart,” Damien’s concern earns my attention. “This isn’t normal.”
“Damien, it’s ...”
I turn away from him, ashamed to look Damien in the eyes, “... It’s best left alone, my love.”
“*Best left alone?*”
Damien stand in front of me and displays his bite mark in outrage. “You call *this* ‘best left alone’?,” he angers. “Humans aren’t supposed to have that many sharp teeth, Stuart!”
“Damien ...”
“*What?*”
“... you wouldn’t believe me,” my fists tighten with irritation. “if I told you *why* this has happened.”
Damien folds his arms, “What is it? Another campfire tale?”
“*If it were only that simple*,” my grave expressions speak dangers untold. “Come sit with me, love ...”
My boy unfolds his arms, as his expressions become piteous. “... I’ve something very important to explain to you,” I turn to him with dreading eyes. “Damien. What’s happening to me affects more than just us ... It affects everyone on the face of this planet ... I’m afraid, Damien. For the first time in my life ... I’m ... *utterly terrified* ...”
“Stuart ...”
Damien heavily exhales, “... Fine. Let’s talk.”
We retreated to our bed, where I told him everything. From A to Z.
“So, you’re saying ...”
My words have somehow piqued his interest, “... vampires are *real*?”
“Damien, when Raj attacked me, I discovered a power called ‘Existence’,” I explain. “From what White Noise told me, all children of the night are innately gifted with this power. Hollywood fairytales like Twilight, Fright Night, the Vampire Diaries, and even the Dracula films—all hogwash and lies.”
“So, this ‘Hierarchy’ ...”
He pieces things together, “... they want to kill you because you’re a ‘dhampir’?”
I can tell Damien’s wrestling with this, attempting to support me with all his might. “Stuart, that’s horrible,” his believing words somehow lift my spirits, though I’m still very upset. “What would make those people hate us *so much* ... when we never did *anything* to them?”
“White Noise explained it best ...”
My foreboding words regain Damien’s attention, “... the preservation of the hunt. The food chain, Damien. If humans and vampires coexist, the hunt will end.”
My boyfriend gently holds my left hand, silently confessing that he’s nervous. “It was Lord Frederic’s wish to end this by marrying Lady Maribel and starting a family,” I continue. “It was a failed attempt, which led straight to me—his current descendant, Stuart Alexander Bennett. The last dhampir.”
Damien fascinates, “The ... ‘last dhampir’?”
“Yes, Damien. I’m the last of my kind ...”
I gaze into my boyfriend’s warm eyes, “... I wanted to keep this a secret, but after what I did to you ...”
In a wave of emotion, I warmly take Damien into my arms. “... hurting you, making you bleed,” my voice becomes wet with pain, and I soon begin to weep. “I’m so sorry, Damien. I said years ago that ... I would never hurt you, and ... look at what I did! I ... just can’t see past the darkness of my sins ... My love. Can you forgive me?”
Yes. I promised to never hurt him ...
... something most men in love do.
How foolish I was, making that mistake. Speaking as if I’m the perfect being; the alpha males of alpha males. Unspotted, pristine and unblemished ... I regret spitting those immature words.
“Stuart. Listen to me ...”
Damien pulls back, and gently wipes my tears away with his right forefinger.
Wait, is he ...
... Damien is ...
“... Half beast or not,” he plants a kiss on my cheek. “I still love you. So don’t worry.”
... He accepts me. Damien truly accepts me.
“You’re such a kind man, love,” my voice becomes warmer, gentler, activated by his love. “You know, Sweets. We should go out this weekend. It’s high time we enjoyed the pleasures of the evening.”
“Stuart,” Damien giggles. “Is that your ‘inner beast’ talking?”
“Inner beast? Why, no ...”
I smile and tickle him, “... *this* is. Tick-tick-tick-tick-tick!”
My boyfriend giggles like a merry preschooler. “Stuart, that’s enough,” I silence Damien’s giddy laughter with a sweet, passionate kiss. “Mm! Mm ... mm ... m-m-m-h ...”
He pulls me closer, lowering my body onto his ...
... Damien wants me again ...
... Unfortunately, that’s not going to happen.
[“A-w-w, sugar smacks! Save the mushy stuff, will ya?”]
My face comically distorts!
See? I knew that wasn’t going to last for long.
Damien pushes me up, and curiously observes the area. [“Hey there, Damien,”] the faceless White Noise greets. [“Heh. Look at you two kiddoes. Having fun with your half-bred lover there, laddie?”]
“Daddy ...”
Damien queries of me, “... is that ... who I think it is?”
I sit up to give my lover some room. “Sweets, this is our new friend,” I smile. “White Noise. He’s the faceless informant I told you about earlier. You remember, the one from Infinity?”
[“I’d give you a hug, b-u-t,”] White Noise giggles. [“I’m about 800 miles away. Maybe later, eh?”]
“Oh goodness, Daddy ...”
Damien blushes, reminding me of his affinity for the Scots. “... we’ve a Scotty in our midst,” he claps his hands together and smiles. “How lovely! He sounds so handsome and kind ...”
Damien gives me a curious look, “... Daddy. Why does he get under your skin so much?”
[“Simple. I tell him the truth and he hates it.”]
White Noise titters, provoking me with his snide comments. “Like *hell* you do,” I defensively fold my arms to his statement. “Hmph. Calling me a ‘1-minute man’ when you *damn* well knew I lasted for an hour.”
[“Feh. More like ‘1 second’.”]
“*Oh, shut up!*”
[“A-w-w. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to spoil your ‘pipe dream’. Should I go walk the plank now, ‘Captain Peckerwood,’ or do you need a countdown for *that* as well?”]
Damien’s merry holler makes me feel ...
... utterly mortified ...
... Damn you, White Noise! When I get my hands on y-o-u ... BOOM! Right in the chops!
“Okay, okay ...”
Damien scoots to my side, and supportively hugs me, “... Lay off my boyfriend, Mr. Noise. Please?”
Sweets ...
... he’s supporting me, just like always ...
... Damien knows I have inadequacy issues. That’s why White Noise’s trash talk bothers me.
I don’t hate White Noise. I just ... despise feeling pitiable. It’s irritating.
“Stuart,” Damien’s kind tone earns my attention. “Mr. Noise is only playing with you. A lot of guys do it; making fun of each other so they can ‘open up’. I believe our Scotty chum actually likes you.”
I turn away, “You ... think so?”
“Of course, silly. A lot of Scotsmen are smart-mouthed and boorish, but that’s just the way they are. Oh, and unless you forgot, Stuart ... You’ve a mouth of your own.”
[“Yeah, pup,”] White Noise confirms. [“So stop bellyaching and start playing along ...”]
Playing along?
I see ...
... Well, after learning the truth, White Noise’s arrogance isn’t all that bad. [“... Look at it this way,”] he regains my attention with warm tone. [“*Someone* has to get you up to speed, especially after learning about all of this stigmatic bullshit. Being put in the middle of everything ... So what’s a few jokes between comrades, eh? It always gets the steam off *my* back, that’s for sure.”]
I jest with a sarcastic sneer, “Hmph. For a holy man, you’ve quite the loose tongue.”
[“I’m Catholic. I’m Scottish. I drink. I smoke. These robes don’t mean jack shit, especially after my resignation from the Hierarchy. As I stand, I’m a dapper vampire activist and nothing more. Hell. I’m buried in as much horseshit as you are, Stuart ... Oh, before I forget. Damien ...”]
“Yes?,” my boyfriend wonders.
[“... I’m afraid you’re riding the boat with us, laddie.”]
Damien fears, “Oh dear! I’m in trouble *too*?”
[“*Uh-oh* ...”]
Damien holds his mouth, alerted by our informant’s precautious tone. “White Noise,” I worry. “What’s wrong, my friend? Are you in danger? Is someone following you?”
[“... I’ll have to get back with you on that one. I have a few ‘unwanted guests’.”]
“Hierarchs, I presume?”
[“Aye, about seven of them,”] he hisses. [“Heh. Cakewalk. They’re all inexperienced D-Classmen; newbloods, not even strong enough to hold my ink pen. I’ll reconnect with you lot later. Stu, be on the lookout for Backdoor Man. He’s one tough son of a bitch, so keep face and do your best.”]
“Will do, my friend. Take care.”
[“Heh. Plan on it. Over and out.”]
Suddenly, our alarm sounds, meaning we’ve talked the entire night away!
“Oh, well that’s realistic ...”
I fetch and deactivate our alarm clock, “... We did talk for almost three hours. Before that, well, you know ... Perhaps we could tell Nattie and TJ we were ‘waiting for the rooster,’ eh Damien?”
My boyfriend gives me a sarcastic grin, inaudibly judging my corny advice. “Er, right,” I blush and scratch my head. “Perhaps that’s not the best idea. Excuse my silliness. Insomnia makes me act awkward.”
“It does that to everyone, so don’t worry ...”
Damien leaves the bed, and approaches the bathroom, “... Let’s just get ready. A nice morning shower should wash the drowsiness away. Right, Stuart?”
He halts in the bathroom doorway, turns on the light, leans against the doorframe ...
... and seductively gazes at me. “So, get up,” he winks. “We have to ‘get ready’. D-a-d-d-y.”
Oh my. Looks like HIS “inner beast” is calling ...
... Well, who am I to turn down my boyfriend? After all, time waits for no man ...
... and ...
... I wouldn’t want to keep “my man” waiting. It’s bad form. Right?
Damien takes me into his arms, “I love you, Stuart.”
“I love you too, Damien,” I lean into his sweet, gentle kiss.
Hmph. Now you see ... why I call him “Sweets”.
All consultations are temporarily postponed, my friends. Leave a note by the “Do Not Disturb” sign.
A white hood strolls down the empty Portman Road to Kingsley ...
... slinging a small, metal chain around his right forefinger ...
... humming a most familiar tune.
Hey, all you people that tryin’ to sleep I’m out to make it with my midnight dream Cause I’m a back door man The men don’t know But the little girls understand
He stops for a moment, lifts his head and exposes emissive crimson eyes!
“I can sense it ...”
The white hood smiles, bearing his pearly fangs, “... *Them*. They’re headed this way.”
He balls the chain in his fist, itching for a fight. “Yes, that’s it,” the white hood delights. “Bring him to me. Please. He *must* feel it ... Half-breed. You *will* taste the bitterness of my pain!”
“So, Nattie ...”
“What’s up, Stu?”
“... Why the change of course?”
“Oh. This way’s a lot quicker, trust me.”
Before leaving the Loch Kavanagh, Natalie and TJ invited us to join them for the remainder of our European Tour. As Damien and Natalie are very close friends, my boy just couldn’t turn down the offer.
I’m not one to deny people their personal time, so I suggested the otherwise; following them in a separate car. Unfortunately, after looking at our funds ...
... yeah. The extra help will definitely come in handy.
Funny. It’s almost as if Natalie and TJ knew we would need their help. Then again, my spending habits have become a bit laughable in the past few months. Hmm ...
... I believe I may need to rethink my needs and wants.
“Hey, Dame ...”
Natalie’s questioning tone earns Damien’s attention, “Yes, Nattie?”
“... Is that a bite mark on your neck?”
Natalie’s keen perception never fails!
Damien’s riding backseat with her, so it’s only natural that a clever woman like Natalie would notice his obvious physical imperfections. Damien hold his left jugular, remembering the mark’s position.
“Oh, don’t even try to cover it up,” she scolds. “Talk. Where did that come from?”
“I was fooling around and got hurt,” Damien quickly fibs. “That’s all.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive. It’s just a minor flesh wound. No need to be worried, Nattie.”
“Uh-huh ...”
Natalie shoots me a cold, suspicious stare, “... If you say so. Hmph.”
G-o-d! That look! It’s the same one ...
... Okay. I better change the subject while changing is good.
“So, TJ ...”
He looks at me for a second, “Yeah. What’s up, Stu?”
“... You guys decided to take the old Portman Road. Good call. But I wonder ...”
Natalie looks at me through the rear-view mirror. “... you two aren’t from these parts,” I smirk. “How did you know about this road? Only old timers know this road.”
“R&R., Stu,” TJ cleverly replies. “Research and Recommendation. Old survival tactics I learned years ago.”
“You don’t say? Boy scout?”
“Yeah. That and summer camp. Right, Babes?”
Natalie proudly confirms, “You should see his old bedroom. Nothing but medals and awards.”
“Impressive,” I admire. “I never took you for the outdoorsy type, TJ.”
TJ blushes and giggles.
Damien observes the passing greenery, growing fonder of the Homeland by the second. “My, how I miss the country,” his dreaming tone earns Natalie’s attention. “When I was little, my parents would bring me to visit my Uncle Alexander in Morgaineshire. It was so much *fun*.”
“Did he live on a farm?,” Natalie intrigues.
“Yes, he did. Uncle Alexander traveled a lot, so when I got to go see him, I was excited ... I really miss him. But sometimes I feel like he’s right underneath my nose. Don’t know why, but I do. Strange, huh?”
TJ admires, “Farm life. I like the sound of that. Hey, Babes ...”
“Yes, Honey?,” Natalie smiles.
“... When we retire, you want to live in the countryside? A nice, quiet life, just like we like it.”
“Sounds fun, b-u-t,” Natalie proudly folds her arms. “No thanks. I’m a bitch in the heat.”
“Oh, right ...”
TJ drones, “... I figured you’d say that.”
Suddenly, the image of a man-in-white appears several inches in front of our car!
“*Shit!*,” I panic. “*Hit the brakes!*”
TJ steps on the brakes, scaring the living hell out of Natalie and Damien! Damien, Natalie and I hang on for the rough ride, fearing a potentially fatal accident ...
... until the man-in-white stops our car by simply putting his foot on our bumper!
The car stops ... Wait, it’s stopped?
What the bloody hell? This is ...
... fucking incredible! Who the hell does that let alone survives in the end?
TJ parks our car, as we abort our seats to confront the uncanny psychopath. “Sir, excuse me,” I approach the maniacal fool. “Have you gone mad? You could’ve been ... well, you *should* be dead!”
The man-in-white ...
... a white hood, and—!
Oh no ...
... A crimson cross-and-moon pendant! He’s slinging it on a chain in his right hand!
You men eat your dinner Eat your pork and beans
The man-in-white slings his chain, and haunts us with musical verse.
I eat more chicken Than any man ever seen I’m a back door man Whoa, the men don’t know But the little girls understand
The man-in-white stops slinging his chain, and takes his foot off our car. “My mistake,” the man-in-white, a Hierarch, glares at me with emissive eyes. “I would’ve just waved, but then you wouldn’t have stopped. Everyone’s like that. Human. Vampire. Other creatures of the night. Always looking out for ‘Numero Uno,’ ignoring innocent travelers stranded on the road. God could be asking for a ride ...”
The Hierarch gazes coldly at Natalie, TJ and Damien, “... but, people wouldn’t pull over for Him. No. They’d just let Him dehydrate, starve and *die* ... Shameful, to say the least.”
“You’re obviously *not* God,” TJ irritates. “*So why bother with the allegories?*”
TJ’s snappy behavior tickles the Hierarch.
“Why you snow white l-i-t-t-l-e,” TJ snaps. “*Who are you anyway?*”
“... You already know who I am ...”
The Hierarch unveils himself, “... All of you!”
Everyone is shocked by this unveiling!
This person standing before us ...
... it can’t be true ...
... This man is, “*Morrison?*”
“That’s ‘Father John Hennigan’ to you,” the revealed Hierarch smiles at me. “Half-breed!”
It’s shocking. Scandalous. Outrageously appalling.
One of our young wrestling greats stands before us, bearing such foreboding presence.
In more ways than one, it’s disappointing, and ...
... rather saddening.
TJ steps forward and questions John, “Since when were you a priest, huh?”
“Yeah, what’s up with all of this?,” Nattie seconds. “And ... Did you just call Stu a ‘half-breed’?”
“Hmph,” John scoffs. “Why not ask Stuart? He *is* ‘the teller of tales,’ after all.”
John shoots me a fierce, burning glare!
I don’t know how to react. A man I’ve grown to respect ...
... is a Hierarch?
I’ve fought in-ring with this man, and we’ve even shared outings together. He supported my relationship with Damien. John was always there, never leaving. A friend to the end ...
... So why? WHY does it have to be him, of all people?
“John ...”
“What?”
“... How long have you kept this a secret?”
“Hmph. Long enough I suppose.”
“Long enough? So you plotted to further deceive us, *you bastard*?”
“Deceive?”
John proudly folds his arms and turns his back to us. “I’ve been a Hierarch for the past 651 years,” Damien and our friends are shocked. “The Pope sent me here with a mission: to kill you, Stuart.”
“Kill me, huh?,” my fists ball defensively. “I won’t go down without a fight.”
“Fight? Feh ...”
John turns and faces us, “... Sorry. I won’t entertain your expectations. At least ... not yet.”
I confuse, “What?”
“You heard me. I won’t attack you now ...”
“You *bastard*,” I fume with rising ire. “*Then why show your face?*”
“... because ...,” John’s lifts his right hand, balls it into a fist and cracks his knuckles. “... I want you to feel my pain. Bit my a-n-g-u-i-s-h-i-n-g bit. And I will start off ...”
“... by kissing my ass, *you creep*,” Natalie loses her patience. “Seriously. I always knew you were a ‘freak,’ but I *never would’ve guessed* how ‘literal’ that term was until now.”
John shoots Natalie a burning glare that freezes her in place!
“Mannish-sounding little bitch ...”
With a widening of his eyes, John casts a wave of air pressure from his body, “... *Away with you!*”
The air pressure brushes Natalie off her feet, throwing her 7-feet from the group!
“*A-a-a-a-h!*,” she screams in midflight.
“*Nattie!*,” Damien and I panic.
The poor woman crashes onto the roadway, physically damaged by the Hierarch’s attack! “No ... no, Natalie!,” TJ ragingly balls his fists. “You b-a-s-t-a-r-d ... How dare you ...”
TJ turns with a shooting right fist, “... *lay a finger on my girlfriend!*”
Unfortunately, TJ’s hasty attack leaves him open for a quick left-hand parry from the Hierarch. “Anger will only take you so far, *boy*,” with a simple stare, John’s Existence suspends TJ in place. “You see, TJ? Even if you try with a-l-l your might, you *never* win ... *at anything* ... Feh. How pathetic.”
Suddenly, TJ is also repulsed by John’s Existence ...
... landing beside his girlfriend, 7-feet away from us!
“Annoying ...”
John turns to us with furious eyes, “... You people. *You’re all annoying!*”
I stand in front of Damien, protecting him from the unveiled Hierarch. John gazes into my eyes, bearing a leer filled with vampiric bloodlust ...
... He giggles. Pleased by his volatile crimes against Natalie and Theodore. “Sorry, guys,” he closes his eyes and smiles. “The Gates of Perception. My Existence. It makes me become ... a little violent.”
“You call what you’ve done ‘a little violent’?,” I burn with anger. “*Seriously? You could’ve killed them! People you’ve made and shaped our business with for years!*”
“Why worry, Stu? Death is good ... It’s done *me* wonders, as you can clearly see.”
“Wonders? Why you ... *Have you lost your goddamned mind, John Randal Hennigan?*”
“I don’t know, Stu. Maybe I *have* lost my mind ...”
John outstretches his arms at his side with grandiose bearing. “... *but it was humans who stole it from me, my friends!*,” he laughs hauntingly, frightening my boyfriend. “Humans and their detestable ways. *Oppressing* their brothers and sisters for generations. *Hating* what they fail to understand ...”
John looks up to the sky above, immersed in an ocean of insanity, “... Such animosity. Such *cruelty*. That would drive any man mad, give or take a few hundred years.”
“That’s life, you idiot!,” Damien’s outburst earns John’s attention. “Yes, you’re right. Humans are ignorant creatures. Misguided souls given flesh and bone. Still, that *doesn’t give you the right* to ... *do* things like this! That goes for the rest of your Hierarchical brothers, *and* your superiors!”
“Life, you say?,” John laughs. “Life. A fairytale created by humans to make things seem ‘all right’ ...”
John holds his arms out to us with a charming smile, “... Gentlemen. We’re already dead. Humans. Vampires and other children of the night. We’re merely searching for something to ‘help us feel alive’. Just like Lord Frederic, whose very existence was poisoned with loneliness ...”
“Loneliness?”
“... Yes, loneliness,” John smiles and laughs. “And then, a spoiled, rich human girl opened her legs like the whore that she was! That *bitch* Maribel thought she was making the situation better by marrying him, after discovering she was pregnant ... Feh. That did absolutely nothing, but make the situation all the more ... *revolting*!”
“You’re *wrong* ...”
Damien’s sudden disagreement angrily regains John’s attention. “... Maribel and Frederic fell in love,” he emotionally defends. “You’re right. It’s racy. It’s taboo. But when two people fall in love, intercourse isn’t unpromised. It happens ... You can’t blame them for wanting to start a family, John! Getting married and *actually honoring* their commitments ... Something *you* fail at doing with Milena!”
The crimson of John’s eyes becomes three tints lighter, as his fists ball with seething rage!
“If you’re a Hierarch, then,” Damien smiles. “*You’re* also a vampire, just like Frederic. *You* fell in love with Milena, *and did the same thing*—you were intimate with her ... because you *loved* her. Right?”
John turns his back to us, reflecting on his contradictory behavior. “John, please, don’t do this,” I honorably insert myself into their conversation. “Just stop. You’ll only crush Milena’s heart by continuing this ... this ... I don’t even know what to call it. It’s just ... madness ... *pure madness, man*!”
“The procreation of humans and vampires made your kind ...”
John lifts his head and observes the road ahead, “... Abominating the natural order. Turning the very foundation of the night upside-down. But ... with Milena ... I ...”
Damien releases me, and approaches the obviously pained John.
“... *Don’t take another step towards me!*,” the Hierarch’s coldness freezes Damien in place. “Damien. Stuart. It’s only natural for vampires to hate humans. To hunt them. To feast on their bloody souls—savoring the sweet crunch of their throbbing muscles ... Heh. If you want to be technical ...”
John turns and observes the incapacitated Natalie and Theodore. “... Take those two *pretenders* for example, acting like they’re *actually* hurt,” his words enlighten us of something. “They’re trying to hide the truth, just like me and a-l-l my Hierarchical brothers *and* my superiors. The incognito approach ... Feh. Doesn’t matter anyway. Humans always discover the truth and, when they do, they scream for God and *beg* Him to save their miserable lives ... Fortunately, not a single human is in sight. If that were so, Natalie and Theodore would be dead, and you two would be shitting your pants. So, now do you see the truth? Are your eyes f-i-n-a-l-l-y open, boys?”
For some strange reason, I can overhear Natalie’s voice ...
... She’s mumbling. Angrily mumbling. And TJ ...
... He’s biting his teeth with guilt?
Wait a bleeding moment! John just said ...
... then, that means ...
... Nattie and TJ really ...?
“I’ll be at the Super Show tonight,” John laterally outstretches his arms. “Until then, pray I have mercy upon your *pathetic* souls ... Also. Think about what I said, boys ... We’re everywhere ... *Later!*”
The Hierarch leaps high into the azure sky ...
... Then, suddenly, the atmosphere becomes tangerine orange!
Wait. This color ...
... Then, that can only mean ...
“... Hierarchs are fond of leaving a mess lying around,” Raj’s voice comes from where Natalie and TJ lay unconscious, earning our attention. “So, you’ve discovered the truth ...”
Yuvraj’s warm smile beams upon us, “... the ‘Shaman of Sexy’ is really a Hierarch in disguise.”
I head over to check on Natalie and TJ. “Raj,” Damien wonders. “How did you find us?”
“I sensed violent activity from this area,” Raj replies. “My Existence, Clockwork Orange, has a satellite ability that comes in handy during situations like this. So, my answer would be: ‘luck,’ on your behalf.”
Natalie awakens from her mock unconsciousness. “Natalie,” Raj worries. “Are you okay?”
Father Yuvraj helps her stand upright. “If you can give me the number of that train,” Natalie smiles her pain away. “I’ll be all right. But, um ... Wait a second here ...”
Natalie is confused by Raj’s presence, “... Where did *you* come from? I though you hated us.”
“Who am I to hate a fellow Canadian, much less people who’ve allowed me into their country?”
Father Yuvraj approaches TJ’s unconscious body. “Natalie, I grew up not too far from your hometown,” the Punjabi Rebel kneels next to TJ, and concentrates his Existence. “Don’t worry, I’m healing him by bending the laws of physics ... You know. My onscreen personality and the way I treated everyone until just recently—it was all an act. Forgive me ... But look who I’m talking to here.”
Natalie sighs and folds her arms, before sporting a blushing grin. “Come on, old woman,” Father Yuvraj looks at Natalie with a warm smile. “Clockwork Orange allowed me to overhear Father John’s former words ... He’s right. So, please, stop pretending. They have a right to know the truth.”
TJ sits up and sports a guilty blush, just like his girlfriend. “Natalie, Theodore,” I take a step towards them with humble bearing. “John and Yuvraj, both of them told us the same thing. You’re our dearest friends. You’ve been there for us through thick and thin. So, why keep such secrets from us?”
Damien suddenly remembers something.
“Oh, I see ...”
Natalie and Theodore observe Damien’s enlightened smile, “... So *that’s* why Natalie was *s-o* quick to rush off for beddy-byes back at Lake Willington. When Stuart said, ‘Why, I’ve a mind to say there could be a vamp amidst us right now,’ Nattie stood, yawned and retired for the evening. TJ followed her like an obedient puppy. Then again, that’s how the man a-l-w-a-y-s behaves around her. However, if you overview his quick ‘goodnight wishes,’ he’s *just* as suspicious. Yes ... It a-l-l makes sense now. Right, Nattie, TJ?”
Father Yuvraj helps TJ stand upright, as Natalie approaches us.
“They’re right. And yes, it was wrong for us to keep secrets ...”
Natalie blinks her eyes, causing them to lightly burn. “... You *are* our closest friends,” she holds her right arm, a signal she’s feeling ashamed. “So, tell me. My acting skills ... Did I do a good job behaving like a human woman? I’m a crappy actress, but you two should already know that.”
Damien walks into Natalie’s arms, and gives her a big hug. “I’m sorry, boys,” she holds Damien, and pets his head with her right hand. “We both are. I was the one who convinced TJ to remain silent about everything ... It was to protect you. By allowing you boys to live normal lives ... But ...”
Natalie recalls our camping trip at Lake Willington, “... that night ...”
The entire trip replays in her head. Rapidly. Every moment, from start to finish.
“... When Stuart began narrating the Romance ...”
Natalie recalls sensing something extraordinary back then, enlightened by her Existence. “... his body started to glow,” she fascinates. “Damien couldn’t see it, but TJ and I did. When TJ confirmed the sighting, I *knew* I wasn’t going crazy ... But at the same time, it scared me.”
“Why, Nattie?,” Damien wonders.
“It scared me because ... I never wanted Stuart to get involved in this ... *chaotic mess*. Also. After hearing a recent report from White Noise ... Damien, I’m afraid for you too.”
Damien leans back and looks into Natalie’s burning eyes. “We all are, Nattie, but,” TJ approaches us, Raj following in his footsteps. “Raj was the one who told us about Stuart’s incredible awakening. They may be involved now, but at least they stand a fighting chance. Damien’s tough too. I remember fighting in-ring with him myself, and if he can take down *an old pro like me* ... Heh. No worries here, that’s for sure.”
“I second that remark,” Raj supportively smiles. “Natalie. We should trust in their abilities. That’s what friends do—believe in their companions, despite the odds against them.”
Natalie closes her eyes and proudly smiles. “So, Nattie,” my curious tone reopens her eyes and gains her attention. “Tell us about yourselves. Is there anything else we should know?”
“Well, yes. There is ...”
Natalie releases Damien, steps back and smiles at us. “... You should already know who I am,” Natalie cups her hands and places them against her bosom. “My name was mentioned in the Romance ...”
Damien and I are stunned speechless!
“I am ... Katherine MacArthur. The *former* Queen of Rutherford.”
TJ steps forward and stands at his girlfriend’s side. “And I’m the Head of Infinity’s Global Outreach Ministry,” he confesses with a proper bow. “Grigori Yefimovich Rasputin. At your service, gentlemen.”
What? Did he just say ...
... Theodore is really ...
... Rasputin, the fabled Russian healer from World War I? “During my youth, I was blind just as you boys were,” he continues. “Infinity saved me, after I, a man of God, was brutalized and turned by Hierarchs. As time passed on, I established a name for myself as a Rebel, and eventually ascended to my current ranks ... Finding my future wife, Katherine. Becoming a Rebel, and spreading the Word of God. Taking you boys, and many others as brothers and sisters in Christ ... I would die and be born once again, just to relive those precious moments a second time.”
The incredibility of it all ...
... and the looming awkwardness ...
... makes me laugh. It’s hilarious. It’s ... fucking unbelievable!
“Stuart?,” Father Yuvraj wonders. “What’s so funny? Are you amused, my friend?”
“Well ...”
I stop laughing and observe our three vampiric friends, “... Looks like things are becoming more interesting by the second. The former Queen of Rutherford, and a character from the Romance: Katherine MacArthur. A man whose name is a product of Russian folklore and religious myth: Grigori Rasputin. It’s extraordinary yet funny ... Like living a childhood dream. A dark one at that.”
“So, Katherine, Rasputin,” Damien queries of the unveiled vampires. “We’ve known you as ‘Natalie and Theodore’ for a long time. So ... After discovering your real names, what should we call you guys?”
“Nattie or Kate will do for me,” the former Queen smiles. “As for my boyfriend ...”
“... TJ or Razz,” he proudly interjects. “Whatever’s comfortable. Besides, I don’t really care for fancy titles.”
Damien and I affirm with a nod. “Okay, boys, enough hellos and idle chitchat,” Nattie draws our attention with stern, yet strong character. “Let’s get out of here. The Hierarchy, as you’ve just witnessed, can attack at any given moment. It’s best to get Damien to safety, and Father Yuvraj ...”
She looks to the Punjabi Rebel, “... We’ll see you at Kingsley. Taking this old road cuts our former travels by a few days. Stay safe until then, brother. May God be with you.”
Father Yuvraj deactivates Clockwork Orange, and bows to his superior.
“As you wish, Lady Katherine ...”
Father Yuvraj’s image fades away like dust in the wind, “... Until we meet again.”
ED: “Black Diamond” by Mizuki Nana
Along the way, Natalie and Theodore told us stories of their adventures. Magnificent tales of every genre, from tickling comedies to heartwarming romances to chilling horror stories.
During those stories, they never mentioned their real names.
Natalie and Theodore want our images of them to remain the same. They don’t want us to view them as Katherine MacArthur and Grigori Rasputin ...
... No. They would rather we call them Nattie and TJ. The doting nicknames given to them by their devoted companions, upon changing their names to further obscure their identities.
Compared to them, Damien and I are mere children. That would explain why they treat us the way they do; like parents or legal guardians. For example: when Natalie noticed Damien’s bite mark.
She explained Theodore’s first bite.
When Theodore was a newblood, he accidentally bit his former girlfriend in a wave of bloodlust. From his personal confession, we learned that the woman in question wasn’t as understanding. She slapped him, ran off in tears and was never seen or heard from again.
The incident happened around the time he first became a Rebel. Natalie—or should I say, “Queen Katherine”—took him in, and taught Theodore the ways of the vampire. Through Natalie’s teachings, Theodore honed his Existence and became a proactive Rebel of Infinity.
This life ...
... being with Natalie and the Infinity Rebels ...
... being our devoted friend ...
... He has yet to regret anything. Both of them. Natalie and Theodore enjoy fighting the good fight ... in hopes that ... someday ... everyone will be able to live in peace.
Still, it’s horrible. Absolutely depressing ...
... Discovering John’s identity as a Hierarch. Natalie said John is “Backdoor Man, the Eyes of Perception,” and that he’ll stop at nothing to kill me. The only reason he left was to make sure he could fight me at full strength. After all, vampires are much weaker under sunlight. Therefore, he’ll more than likely initiate his attack during the nighttime. It’d make more sense, give or take one’s beliefs in vampiric folklore.
Barely halfway to Kingsley, Damien breaks down into tears ...
... John and Damien were very, very close friends.
Amid his relationship problems with Melina, who has since left the company, Damien was there to console the two lovers on separate occasions. He was the reason behind their subsequent friendship, which Damien believe was proper considering how long they were together.
He wanted to see them happy because ...
... John and Melina made Damien happy. He enjoyed spending time with them, getting to know his two “fabulous friends”. I came into the picture late, but still had enough time to develop a bond with John. Melina left before I could even speak to her, much less earn her attention for two seconds.
John called Damien “little bro,” which warmed my heart. Hearing another man valuing Damien like that made me feel happy as well. It was awkward at first, but my doubts were eventually washed asunder. Especially now, after seeing how John handled Damien ...
... He didn’t want to kill Damien. John wanted to scare Damien away, in hopes that he didn’t have to resort to meaningless violence. His coldness was intentional ... Despite his Hierarchical position, John was still being our friend. I recognized his loyalty ... when Damien mentioned Melina’s name.
Regardless of this, what John has done is unforgivable. Almost causing us to die ...
... hurting Natalie and Theodore ...
... If there’s a way to stop him, I’ll do it. I don’t want to kill John; it’d kill Damien and would definitely leave a mark on poor Melina, wherever she may be.
The last thing I want is to be the cause behind their tears. To kill a man one cares about is also unforgivable, even if the endeavor is justified with honorability or compassion ... This may very well be my most emotionally demanding battle ... because ... because ...
... I know the impact either outcome will have.
I’m not going to lie. I’m terrified ... I don’t want to kill John. I don’t want to hurt Damien, Melina or anyone connected to the man. So ... What should I do?
How can I stop a vampire ... without killing it?
— To Be Continued —
When the Moon Rises Again: Episode 4: Perception—Midnight Dream—
“William Blake said it best ...”
“You’re right! He said, ‘If the doors of perception were cleansed ...’”
“... ‘man could see things as they truly are: *infinite*.”
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Post by ladymaestra on Aug 25, 2014 0:28:18 GMT -6
This episode ended on a climatic edge with an interesting return from someone who, in my opinion, should return to the WWE. I'm glad that John Morrison is still in the story because he is one of my favorite characters. Plus, I can't wait to see some action in the next episode...I'm just itching to see some more Existences! Hope you post soon!!!
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Post by Admin on Aug 25, 2014 0:35:06 GMT -6
This episode ended on a climatic edge with an interesting return from someone who, in my opinion, should return to the WWE. I'm glad that John Morrison is still in the story because he is one of my favorite characters. Plus, I can't wait to see some action in the next episode...I'm just itching to see some more Existences! Hope you post soon!!! |
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Post by MelGabrielle on Aug 25, 2014 2:03:35 GMT -6
Okay I loved this chapter because of Stu and White Noise's antics during the whole thing. I remember reading this the first time and almost falling out of bed because I was laughing so hard.
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Post by Admin on Aug 25, 2014 2:41:00 GMT -6
Okay I loved this chapter because of Stu and White Noise's antics during the whole thing. I remember reading this the first time and almost falling out of bed because I was laughing so hard. |
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