BLOODLUST by Bil Caesar

Bil wrote:Btw, Miss Pippy. U not bin online for aaaaaaaages. Lol. XX

Sorry!!!!! I keep forgetting.

Bil wrote:Im glad u like it. Sory for the long delay, hope it was worth the long wait.

Sory its hard 2 read, duno y it keeps coming out black. Lol.

Pheonix fire-- Love the pik. XX Lol

Her name's Holly.

And yeah, I'm sorry. Forgot to check. It is really good, Bil. congratz!

Alchemy City. 24^th May 2038 – 11:17



Grant steps through the doorway of the temple and is completely awestruck at the sight before him. He stands in a daze as his eyes move around the enormous room, slowly taking everything in. The large dark walls have long red drapes that appear to be made of velvet, hanging loosely from the ceiling; the floor is black marble with a purple carpet leading from the doorway to a large throne at the other end of the room. In front of the throne are two soft looking armchairs with a small glass table between them. The high ceiling is covered with a magnificent painting of six winged demons standing on red clouds filled with mutilated corpses scattered at the demons feet.

The windowless room doesn’t appear to have any candles or sconces and yet, the entire hall is well lit. He looks around the room at the walls, ceiling and floor and can’t discern where the light is coming from.

Grant, Connor and the guard move down the steps onto the main floor, the three of them move along the thick carpet toward the throne.

On the throne is sat a strange looking man, his skin looks dry and brittle, and a grey stone colored tinge to his flesh. Even though the man looks old and weak, Grant can see that his lean body is covered in muscle, the mans eyes look young and are a vibrant violet color, the strange vampyric glow – that Grant was now getting good at recognizing – was evident.

To the left of the throne are two large pumas curled up on the floor, one is asleep, and the other raises its head and looks at the three men. It stares Grant in the eye for a short moment, then its head jerks slightly as the grey man pulls on the large heavy chain. The puma looks at its master and then lays its head down as it drifts off back to sleep.

On the right of the throne is stood a beautiful woman with long raven hair and hypnotic blue eyes, she is wearing a white silk dress, it seems to gently flow in a breeze that no one else can feel. The dress does very little to cover the slender body of the woman, two thin strips of material barely cover her breasts, exposing almost everything from her collarbone to her stomach. The strips are connected to a skirt that is cut high on both sides, right up to her hips, leaving the skirt to hang loosely at the front and back and leave her legs uncovered as it moves in the invisible breeze.

The three men stop before they reach the throne, the guard takes a few extra steps forward, before stopping a respectful distance from the throne and crouches down on one knee as he addresses the Overlord.

“Overlord Draken, I present Alchemy Agent Connor and he has a detective from Slate city with him.” The guard says, keeping his gaze toward the floor, never making eye contact with the Vampyr king.

“Leave us.” The Overlord says in a deep commanding voice that echoes through the large hall as he waves his boney hand in a gesture to dismiss the guard.

The guard hesitates; he looks up at the Overlord with a shocked look, and then glares at Grant before turning his gaze back to the floor.

“But sire. He… he is a human!” The guard makes no effort to hide the disgust in voice.

The Overlord sits forward in hi throne and glares at the guard.

“Do you dare to defy me?” The Overlords violet eyes immediately turn red, the brightest red that Grant has ever seen.

The Overlords steely gaze cuts deep into the guard, making him physically tremble as he rises from his knee and turns to leave the temple.

Drakens eyes slowly turn back to the vibrant violet as he watches the guard leave. Once the temple doors are closed, Draken looks at Grant and eyes him warily.

“So this is the detective that you have chosen to aid you in your hunt?” Draken asks Connor, never taking his eyes off of Grant.

“Yes my lord. He is a good cop and he is as determined to find Jack as I am.”

“Why is that?” Draken directs the question to Grant.

“My friend was killed by Jack three days ago.”

Draken scratches at his chin with a long fingernail.

“Ah yes, vengeance can be a powerful motivation for most things, even more powerful than love or hope. However, you must be careful that you do not allow it to cloud your judgment.” Draken makes a motion with his hand, inviting the detective and the agent to take the seats in front of him.

Grant sits on the armchair cautiously but once he touches the seat it seems to mold around him and he sinks into it lazily, quite possibly being the most comfortable seat he has ever sat in. He tries his hardest to remain alert and sat upright but despite himself he ends up slouching slightly in the chair, not caring that a king is sat a dozen feet in front of him.

“Detective Grant, I understand that you have a great number of questions on your mind, but I need to know that any information I give you will be safe.”

“Yeah, Connor said earlier that I need to have your approval before you tell me anything.” Grant sits up a bit straighter. “What do you need me to do?”

Draken takes the beautiful Vampyr woman’s hand and kisses her knuckles.

“This is Lindsay, she will need a sample of your blood and from that she will be able to find out if you are trustworthy or not.” Draken says as Lindsay pulls a small hypodermic syringe from a leather pouch on her hip.

She steps over to Grant and puts the needle in his arm, after extracting a small amount of blood she turns and moves over to Draken. Lindsay kneels down in from of her king and hands him the syringe. Draken takes the syringe as she lies on her back; he stands over her as she mumbles an incantation that Grant can’t quite hear.

It sounds like Latin.

Grant wants to ask Connor what is going on but he decides to remain quiet so as not to disturb the strange ritual.

Draken kneels next to Lindsay as he prays with her, once the prayer is finished, he brings the syringe down and slides the needle into her chest. She stares at the painted ceiling as Draken pushes down the plunger, injecting Grants blood directly into her heart.

Draken stands up once the syringe is empty and sits back on his throne. The room falls silent as the three of them quietly stare at the woman lying on the floor.

Grant flinches as her body starts to twitch and spasm.



Lindsay feels the needle of the syringe as it punctures her heart, the feeling of the warm blood flowing into it, filling it.

Her heart feels heavy, her body feels light and a sinking sensation comes over her as she waits, she is completely oblivious to anything in the temple apart from the magnificent painting of the winged demons on the ceiling.

Then it hits.

Her body twitches and spasms as her brain is filled with visions, a thousand lives rush through her mind.

The lives of Grants blood ties, his direct ancestors.

The ones that, are responsible for his current existence.

Lindsay’s mind aches and her eyes burn as she tries to focus on them, trying to pick one out of the din.

She see’s one life and focuses on it, trying to make it clearer.



Denmark. December 1526

Grants ancestor is a large hunter on horseback, he rides through a dark forest that’s covered in snow, and the hoof beats are loud and rapid as he catches up to his target.

A woman on foot runs as fast as she can, faster than any human, she manages to stay ahead of the horse.

The hunter raises his crossbow; he gets the woman in his sights and fires. She drops to the floor as the arrow hits her square in the back. She tries to get back up but the hunters’ horse tramples over her.

The woman lies on the floor; her bones are broken and splintered. Each breath she takes causes her extreme anguish.

The hunter climbs off of his horse and unsheathes a long broadsword; he walks over to the broken woman.

The woman pleads for mercy but the hunter doesn’t break stride, the hunter looks deep into her blood red eyes as his blade moves through the air fast and swift toward her neck.

The woman manages a brief scream, and then the snow turns red with her blood as she is decapitated.

As the vision fades, another life fills her minds eye.

Italy. February 1782

Another hunter on a horseback rides along a dirt road, a large cloud of dust plumes up behind the stallion as it drags something by a chain.

The dust clears as the hunter pulls on the reins, causing the horse to slow down as it turns around, it trots back round to face the long stretch of dirt road again, the horse steps over the Vampyr that was being dragged by the chain.

The hunter presses his heels against the horse’s ribs and it starts to gallop, once again dragging the bloodied and battered Vampyr along the hard dusty road.

The Vampyr starts to scream as the horse picks up speed; the scream disappears as the dust fills the Vampyr’s lungs.

The hunter rides at full speed for over half an hour before slowing down, turning around and running the stretch of road again.

The hunter continues to go back and forth along the road all night. Each time he slows down, the Vampyr is more torn and shredded.

After several hours the Vampyr is unable to scream due to the severe blood loss it has suffered throughout the night, its body is unrecognizable, it’s so broken and beaten.

The hunter continues to ride along the road, the sun slowly starts to rise and the Vampyr finds his strength again as he starts to scream and thrash, trying to escape its fate. Yet still the hunter continues to ride as the Vampyr explodes into a ball of flames in the first rays of the new day.

The screams soon go quiet as the Vampyr dies, but the hunter continues to ride for a couple hours longer until the body starts to fall apart, leaving nothing but orange embers and ash blowing in the wind.

The hunter turns the horse and tramples the final remains of charred bone into the ground.

The dust is kicked up and the vision fades again, then another appears.

France. April 1838

The third hunter is sat on a church rooftop, cradling a crossbow on his lap as he sharpens a large machete. In front of him is a beautiful Vampyr, she has been crucified on the large cross on the top of the church.

A thick silver stake is embedded in each wrist, a thick leather bind is wrapped around her waist and another wrapped around her legs.

She tries to wriggle herself free, but the stakes in her wrists cause her too much pain and she passes out. She regains consciousness and stares at the hunter sat a few feet from her and then at the horizon behind him.

The sky is starting to change color and she feels the harsh light of the day as it slowly moves down her body as the sun rises higher. With the daylight searing her flesh, she wriggles harder, not caring about the pain that the stakes are causing.

She sees the broad grin on the hunters face as her skin starts to bubble, pus seeps from the many blisters as her skin cracks and peels, blood pours from her mouth as her organs slowly cook and liquefy inside her.

Her body starts to smoke as her dress begins to burn from the heat of her body. She shakes her body as wildly as she can in a final attempt to break free or even pass out before her inevitable death.

Her eyes start to slowly melt in her sockets and she just manages to let out a bloodcurdling scream as her throat fills with blood and her body eventually becomes engulfed in flames.

The hunter continues to jus sit and watch until the Vampyr is no more than a statuette made out of charcoal and ash.

He finally stands and moves over to the body, he unties the leather straps from her waist and legs, he pulls the stakes from her wrists and her body falls from the cross and disintegrates before hitting the ground, her ashes blowing in the morning breeze.

The vision fades into nothingness and she is able to see the temple ceiling again.



Lindsay lies on her back for a moment, staring at the extravagant ceiling of the temple as she tries to compose her thoughts. She knows that mere seconds have passed since Draken had injected Grants blood into her but she experienced every second of each lifetime within those seconds.

She wishes that she had never seen the visions; she feels terror fill every molecule of her being.

It’s not a feeling she is used to.

Grant is more dangerous than even Draken could have expected. He is a direct descendant of the most vicious and depraved Vampyr hunters in human history, it seems like every forefather of Grants was bred and raised to hunt and kill Vampyr’s.

She had also seen Grants life and he has no knowledge of lineage.

Lindsay slowly sits up; she looks around the temple as she gathers her senses. She can’t bring herself to look at Grant.

Draken kneels next to her and she whispers in his ear, telling him what she had seen. He doesn’t show fear but there is a look in his eyes that worries her. He helps her to her feet and moves her over so she can sit on the throne. Draken motions for Connor to follow him.



Grant watches as Connor and Draken move over to the far side of the room to talk, he can’t hear what they are talking about but it doesn’t look good.

He only just realizes how tall Draken is.

Draken looked large when he was sat on the throne but now that he is stood up straight, Grant can see that the Overlord is over six and a half feet tall, maybe closer to seven feet. His shoulders are broad and his chest is deep, he has the muscular build of ring fighter.

A few minutes later they walk back toward Grant.

Grant stands as they approach; he amends his guess at Drakens height.

He is definitely closer to seven feet.

“Is everything okay?” Grant asks.

“Everything is fine.” Connor replies.

Draken snaps his fingers; a servant enters through a door from the wall behind the throne that Grant hadn’t noticed before. The servant hurries over to Drakens side and hands him a file, Draken takes the file and dismisses the servant with a wave of his hand. The servant turns and leaves the throne room.

Draken hands the file to Grant.

“I am allowing Connor to give you full disclosure.” Draken says as he shakes Grants hand.

“Thank you, sir.” Grant says, with relief.

Draken looks at Connor.

“I have a possible lead on Jacks habits and whereabouts, but it might be problematic.” Draken says.

Connor looks confused.

“Why would it be problematic sire?”

Draken looks away from Connor.

“The lead is Cyrus.”

Connors confusion is replaced by panic, it makes Grant nervous.

“Cyrus? Please tell me that you’re joking.”

Draken turns and faces Connor, his features are serious.

“Cyrus is the only lead we have. He is the only Vampyr that has ever tracked Jack down. You need to find out how he did it.”

Connor looks like he is about to argue but decides against it.

“Yes my lord, it will be done.”

Grant feels Connor tug on his sleeve, and they both turn to leave the temple.

Once outside the temple, Grant stops looking at the file that Draken had given him and turns to Connor.

“Who is Cyrus?”

Connor takes a deep breath.

“Cyrus was my old partner; we were part of a large Immortalis death squad that was in charge of tracking and exterminating the Rax wherever we found them.” Connor and Grant move down the temple steps toward the Subaru that is still parked at the bottom.

“How come you aren’t partners anymore?”

“He somehow got infected with the Rax gene, becoming an entirely new species. He has the Rax’s strengths but none of their weaknesses; he spent a few months on a rampage throughout Europe before I caught up to him again. He was sentenced to death by starvation in 1942 but once we discovered that he was a hybrid of both races we decided to use him for science. Over the years we have conducted tests in an attempt to discover how he was turned and whether he has any particular weaknesses.”

“How long does it take for a Vampyr to starve to death?”

“We don’t know, there has never been any record of a Vampyr dying in that way. Starvation has an adverse effect on Vampyr’s though. If a Vampyr does feed, after a while they are driven insane and become unpredictable. The problem is that Cyrus was always a bit of a crazy bastard before he turned, so now after nearly a century he is likely to be a lot worse.” They climb into the car and Connor looks at Grant. “Given Cyrus’ unstable mental condition, I don’t think it’s wise that you’re in the room when I question him.”

Grant thumbs through the Cyrus file as Connor drives the car toward to the confinement cells.

He can’t help but wonder what a Vampyr would look like after a century of starvation.



Soon he will be in the presence of the most dangerous Vampyr ever recorded.



According to the file he is even worse than Jack and now he is going to be unbelievably hungry.

This is brilliant

Fanx chicken. XX

It's amazing, Bil.

Fanx Pipster. XX

It's the truth. xx

So long as its the truth i dont mind, u no u cant tell me its shit. If it's what you really fink. Lol.

XX

I think you meant I can tell you it's shit... And I know I can. It's just not!

x

Yea thats wot i ment. Smart-ass!!! Lol. XX

Lol! You could say that again. x

Say wot agen?? Call u a smart-ass? Lol. XX

Think so

London. 27^th September 1940 – 4:18am

The barrages of bombs have shaken London through most of the night, they had almost been continuous since the seventh; the residents of the south end are huddled in the underground subway stations or warehouse basements, sleeping in almost primitive conditions, on makeshift beds with their food and medical rations under lock and key. The dust falls from the ceiling with each rumble from the distant explosions causing the candles to flicker as the walls shake.

The adults pray for deliverance as they shiver from the shellshock clutching their screaming children and holding them close, as they to soothe them and wipe the tears from their rosy cheeks. The women try to hush their children to sleep as the men discuss and talk about what they would do if they ever had the chance to come face to face with Hitler, each one of them boasting and trying to out do each other.

They have no idea about what is happening above ground.

And it’s best that they don’t.

Tonight the streets are full of death.

Due to the Blitzkrieg, most of London is in darkness, a strange attempt to hide the city from the German Luftwaffe bombers that fly amongst the clouds high overhead.



Connor crouches on the street; he touches the red droplets with his fingertips and puts his fingers to his nose, smelling the blood. He looks into the darkness and sees something moving amongst the shadows. He stays crouched and silent as he tries to make it out. He slowly reaches for the gun on his hip, then a stray retriever comes bouncing toward him and then disappears into one of the shop doorways.

Connor allows himself half a moment to relax and then he is all business again. He smells his fingertips again and then sniffs at the air. He doesn’t react to the scrunching sound of boots on gravel and rubble behind him, there’s a tap on his shoulder as his partner crouches behind him.

Cyrus, a powerful Vampyr, he looks about thirty but Connor knows that he is at least four centuries old. When the Alchemy Law was passed they had both been partnered up. Cyrus had always called the shots, being over two centuries older; Cyrus outranked Connor and had always looked at Connor as a trainee.

It had taken almost forty years for Cyrus to accept him but Connor knows that Cyrus will never trust him fully.

Once England had declared war on the Nazi’s Cyrus had given Connor command of the hunt.

For the last twenty years Connor and Cyrus have been tracking a Rax family, their orders are to hunt them down and annihilate the threat in an attempt to uphold the truce with the humans.

Hitler’s air raid of Great Britain has worked in the Alchemy agents’ favor. They no longer had to worry about many innocents being caught in the crossfire; the squad had come across one or two British soldiers and had managed to avoid being seen.

The recon earlier in the day had managed to find the Rax nest, the average number of the enemy was reported to be around fifteen, at least.

Connor knows that their chances are slim, other than himself and Cyrus he had three other agents in his squad. The Rax are a fair bit stronger than the Immortalis and they are outnumbered at least three to one.

“We’re close.” Connor says to Cyrus.

“Lead the way.” Cyrus says back, he motions to the rest of the squad that they are moving.

Connor stands and starts to move down the street, gripping his rifle, clearing each shadow and doorway as he follows the scent of the blood. The air reeks of death, fire and smoke but the sweet smell of the blood is unmistakable.

His mind briefly goes back almost fifty years. To the last time he had tasted fresh human blood and felt the warmth of it smother his tongue as it flowed from the fresh wound and into his mouth in large gulps.

He feels a deep hunger at the distant memory and he pushes the memory back as he decides to concentrate on the task at hand.

They need to be at the nest before dawn.

The Rax can’t be in direct sunlight as it causes them to combust. It can take seconds or minutes, depending on the strength of the individual, but given enough time a Rax would eventually burst into flames and become a human torch until there is nothing but ashes blowing in the wind.

The plan is that once Connors squad finds the nest they destroy any that got home early, once the building is clear they will all take positions at the entrances and silently take the remaining Rax out one by one as they stagger home.

The Rax breed normally live together but hunt alone so they will all be back to the nest at different times before the sun rises.

Connor gets to a large derelict warehouse that looks perfect for a nest of Rax’s. The windows are boarded up, a large piece of corrugated iron covers the main doorway but looks like it can be moved enough for someone to squeeze through.

It’s going to be dangerous inside, there could be two dozen rooms with countless shadows and they will have to search each one for any Rax’s that may be hiding in the darkness.

They have an hour until dawn and they need to be quick. The Rax’s will be making their way back any moment now.

Connor motions at the three agents and they move around to the back of the warehouse to find an alternative way in, while Connor and Cyrus take the front.

Each member of the squad knows their roles.

Connor moves swiftly to the corrugated iron with Cyrus close behind him, both of them checking their surroundings for any Rax they may be on the horizon.

The element of surprise is their greatest weapon, without it, the squad wont stand a chance. They are vastly outnumbered and would be ripped apart in minutes; the savagery of the Rax breed is a lot more dangerous than their strength.

Once they are at the makeshift door of rusted iron, Cyrus grabs the metal sheet and pulls it aside enough for Connor to fit through.

Connor crouches through the small opening, keeping his rifle raised. He steps into the pitch black interior of the warehouse, his eyes immediately searching the shadows for anything that may pose a threat. The Rax’s usually booby trapped the entrances to their nests. It was rare that they were needed but sometimes they could wound a squatter or homeless man, giving the family something to eat during the day.

Cyrus enters the warehouse as Connors eyes adjust to the darkness, the corrugated doorway squeaks as it shuts. Connor gives Cyrus a moment to get used to the shadows, they look at each other and nod that they are ready. Keeping their rifles raised the two of them start to move from room to room, checking each dark shadow that they pass.



After half an hour the building is clear and the squad regroups on the ground floor. They assess their surroundings and take their planned hiding positions near the exits but in areas where they can see at least one of their fellow team mates, getting ready to ambush the Rax as they enter the building. The agents check their guns are locked and loaded, they unsheathe their swords, and then they wait for their prey.

One by one the Rax start to come back to their nest, the agents eliminate them silently, their blades decapitating the returning savages as they enter the building.

Connor peers through a crack in one of the boarded up windows and sees that the sky is starting to brighten, he notices silhouettes moving from shadow to shadow, keeping to the darkness as much as they can.

He realizes the estimation of the recon party was well off, they had estimated no more than thirty Rax lived in this building but Connor can make out forty, maybe fifty and there could be more on the way that he just hasn’t seen yet.

Bollocks.

Connor feels doubt creep into his mind. When he thought that they were outnumbered three to one, he was nervous but now that he knows that they are actually outnumbered at least ten to one, no words can describe the terror that is filling his gut.

The Rax are less than a minute away, if he is going to abort the mission then he needs to do so right now.

Connor sheathes his blade and hefts his rifle as he crouches behind a tatty old, dusty couch, aiming it at the door several feet away from him. The rest of his squad follows his lead, each of them aiming at their nearest entrance.

The first few Rax come into view of the doorways, the squad wait a few minutes as more enter the building.

Connor is crouched mere feet away from nine Rax’s, his body tenses as they move closer to him as they enter deeper into the building. One of the Rax stops turns and looks straight at Connor, the Rax crouches slightly looking similar to a cat getting ready to pounce. Connor freezes to the spot, not knowing whether the Rax sees him or not. If all nine of the Rax’s attack him at once then he will be torn to shreds.

A gunshot echoes through the warehouse and light fills the corridor next to Connor as a Rax dies screaming.

The Rax in front of Connor turns toward the corridor, knowing that one of their brethren is dead they run to the doorway. Connor seizes the moment and fires his rifle; the crouched Rax in front of him is hit in the forehead with the bullet. The Rax starts to burn and turn to ash as it falls to the floor, the fiery embers light up the room, highlighting everyone inside.

Connor fires again and again as he backs out of the room, killing more Rax’s as the bullets hit them in the head. The warehouse is echoing with the continuous gunfire from the Alchemy agents’ weapons.

When Connors rifle is empty, he drops it to the floor and pulls the pistol from the holster on his hip and continues to destroy the monsters. He slowly backs down the corridor to the central room where the agents agreed would be the best spot for a final stand if things went wrong.

He gets to the center of the room and is back to back with two of his squad members but Cyrus and another member are missing. The Rax continue to pour into the room as the squad repeatedly fire and reload their guns.

The room goes silent as each of the squad runs out of ammo and drops their pistols and rifles to the floor, they all draw the blades from under their coats, each of them willing to fight unto the last.

Connor quickly looks around for any sign of Cyrus or the other missing soldier, but there is nothing but an eerie silence in the air, the only sounds he can hear is the scuffing of boots on the charred rotten floor and the low guttural growling sounds of hungry Rax’s as they all crouch and prepare to lunge at the intruders.

There are over forty Rax around Connor and his two soldiers, slowly shuffling around as they surround the agents. The glowing red eyes of the Rax’s all look straight at the agents, their black pupils are the only things that indicate where they are looking.

Connor lets the feeling of rage fill his body and his vision clears as the brown pigment of his eyes turns red in an instant.

The Rax pounce at Connor and his men. Their blades move swiftly in the darkness as the agents decapitate their enemies.

A scream comes from one of the agents as six Rax pounce on him, dragging him to the floor as they push their hands into his chest and tear out his organs.

Connor knows that his fellow agent is long past needing help, and then he sees something down one of the dark corridors.

Cyrus.

The agent behind Connor sees Cyrus too.

“Connor, go! I will hold them off.”

Connor nods at the agent and runs to the corridor toward where he had seen Cyrus. He turns the corner and sees Cyrus on the floor, his hands against his stomach, trying his best to stop his intestines from spilling out of his stomach.

Connor takes Cyrus’ arm and puts it over his shoulder, he lifts Cyrus and they both move to the exit. They hear the screams of the dying agent as they get into the daylight, a few of the enemy try to follow but stop at the edge of the shadows as they watch Connor and Cyrus escape down the street.



Back at the Alchemy base camp Connor watches as a Vampyr nurse tries to treat Cyrus’ wounds as he writhes and screams in agony on the operating table. Cyrus finally stops, he grabs Connors jacket and pulls him close.

“Connor, I feel wrong.”

“What do you mean?”

“I… I don’t know but my blood is burning, I’m so hungry.”

Connor turns and moves over to the large fridge and pulls out a jug of the synthesized blood platelets, there is a loud crashing sound and a scream behind him and he turns around to see Cyrus holding the nurse by the throat as he stand behind her, using her body like a shield between him and Connor.

“Cyrus what the…”

“I want you to let me go.”

“You aren’t a prisoner. What’s wrong with you?”

Connor watches Cyrus as his eyes move around the room as he searches for an exit. Cyrus looks back at Connor with a strange look in his eye. Connor notices that the pigment of Cyrus’ eyes look wrong, they are red but small red veins are expanding from the iris slowly covering the whites of his eyes, until he has the eyes of a Rax.

“Cyrus. They turned you.”

“What?”

“You’re a Rax, how is it possible? How did they infect you?”

A menacing smile fills Cyrus’ features. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Cyrus throws the nurse, her body slams into Connor as they both fall to the floor. By the time Connor is back on his feet Cyrus is long gone.



Connor doesn’t know it yet but it will take him two years to track down his old mentor.

Amazing

Really great, Bil! Keep it up!!

Thanks Lowri + Pipster. XXX

When's the next one?

Wen i sort my housin issue chicken as bin kinda preoccupied wit that at the mo, sorta sik of livin on the streets now. Promise 2 do it as soon as i can ok? XXX

OK! When you can. x

Ipromise on Connors life i wil do it asap. XXX Feel free 2 hassle me wit a PM on fbk if u wan tho. Lol. XX

Lol. Don't promise on Connor's life!!!! That'd be harsh. I'm sure I will. x

K, i dnt like doin it but i only eva say it wen i no i wil keep my word. I wil await ur angry, impatient messages on fbk. XX But i no u loves me really. So u cant threaten me. Lol. X

Lol. I guess not.