The Ultimate Vampire Resource and Directory

Back at the Lab.
22:03 May 28 2006
Times Read: 568

Vats line the lab grated floor with cables and hoses affixed to the base, blues lights show floating bodies like large embryos. Technicians orange jump suits go about their tasks ignoring two well dressed men who amused themselves with their menagerie.

“What about the hybrids, Carl? Have you had any success with the, *cirs*, problem yet? I heard the board of directors are uneasy with the expenses you have been pumping into this project of yours.” Grinning to his twin brother, knowing full well that things we’re not going as planed for either of them.

“You know damn well how things are going; you’ve sat in on half of the meetings as I have on yours. The cybernetic implant rejection syndrome is a tricky business, not unlike your genetic experiments. You randomly encoding and blending genes from animals with human genes to make the ultimate being for your end of the bet. Playing God was Fathers hobby, what we are doing would make Father seem like an armature, Jeremy. As far as the Directors are concerned they’re getting enough profits to graze on.” Echoing laughter, in stereo, mirrored reflection on Vat number nine gave a gloomy house of mirrors effect.

Chuckles slowed as both were reminded of the night they had lost a batch each and billons in assets. One survivor escaped the ill fated birthing. Raw materials were cheep but staff and equipment became very costly.

“Where did we get the base subject from? Was he from Europe, Asia, or Central America? “Jeremy inquired.

“Not sure, really …” pulling out a silver cigarette case, tapping the filtered end on its polished surface. “I recall he came from a military mental hospital in Geneva. Suicidal case with claims of prior life experiences, reincarnation, or something like that. Clinic Psychiatric Doctors filed him as incurable. A brief military career with the Swiss Border Volunteers with no prior record, he was simply a ‘Blank’. He was picked up in Cairo for grave robbing and trespassing. He survived six months in one of their satellite prisons archeology’s for foreigners. Has along list of psychotic episodes, and killed nearly half of the staff with some hundred prisoners that he labeled as “week”, unarmed. It was reported that he ate … no drank their blood in some sort of ritual. A real killer, no morals what so ever, and I thought he would be reprogrammable with your neurological tempering.” Lighting two long cut German cigarettes, handing one to Carl.

Mature prodigal sons of Arian linage in York tailored suits. Blue hues cast aquatic ghosts across their manicured faces. Blue eyes meet, both knowing the others thought, linked together through genetic breeding and Neural transievers.

Clatter of data clip boards on metallic grating breaks their unvoiced conversation. A startled technician arched back away from the gruesome visage.

Contrast on motion of a behemoth of a man like being three meters by two. Spiked fine hair stand on end, tiger bud implants serve as a picket fence for a grimace. Foot steps felt rather than heard. All bulk of muscle and sinew wrapped in an expensive lunar silk suit, white eyes doted with pin point pupils. His phantom in pallor, the color of porcelain, lacked flaws. The heavy blue shadows seem to shrink back as he passed each vat, eyes locked on the glass less mirror before him. Facial expression frozen as Cobalt hues shades dance around ivory features, as he stopped short of three meters from his marks.

“What is it Wraith?” spoke Carl, intentionally breaking the chilling wave that crested and poised to crash on the occupants of the lab. Insipid granite flushes to malleable clay as ferocious maw zip to a tolerant semi-smile.

“You seem to be in a pleasant mood, has there been an incident of mass misfortune of your doing? Or have you completed your complex calculation of world dominance? “Jeremy added to the mirth on cue from his brother.

Tolerance lessen, eye brows narrowed in malcontent, statuesk Wraith held his ground. The beast silently laughed at their week jabs.

Imagery of a mutant Siberian tiger being held by two rich brats with twine and tail chuckling at their belled prize and poking it with frozen asparagus spears, came to mind of the technician who had first noticed the ominous intruder.

“Your pet has slipped through your fingers, Doctors. The Purist arrived before my brood could get a scent. I would not be surprised if your “abomination“ bathed in your blood less guts tonight. As for my plans, they don’t involve nor concern you. I have paid for your perverted experiments to make me more than I had asked for. Your enemies have been taken care of. With the exception of Weird Happenings Organization Incorporated, you have your cake. But can you eat it all before a murder of crows start to lineup?” Wraith said, returning their verbal jab as he walked back wards into the shadows.

Carl’s face turning to Wraith to respond, Jeremy seeing his twin’s expression, and both look to where Wraith was. Both suits expected to see him in the next set of light sources which lead back to the laboratory doors but saw no sigh of their colorless creation. Waves of exhaustion and nausea crashed through them. Beads of sweat and crushing dread filled them and their employees. Blurred face grinned at them from the open door way as florescent light from the hall blind them of his features. Jeremy caught a glimpse of an upturned fist waving its back side “V” at them before the doors slide closed.

Mesa, Arizona: 1639 MTZ 7August 2090:
21:59 May 28 2006
Times Read: 569

Pastel sun set reigned over the valley, jet helicopters circle searching for their quarry. Stretched stratus call to his leathered eye lids, showing the path to safety and comfort for a aged body that has seen to many battles. Great Grandfather has another journey for this disjointed brave, honor will be restored to the fallen. Too many times he has met the enemy on lands, lands that was taken from the Human beings, and was victorious in surviving the day through their deaths. Spirits of beast, birds, and all that once crawled lent him their wisdom, courage, and talents to face those who were and are wrong to walk upon Great-grandmother’s bosomed nature. Brother Eagle once told him that each feather he earned for enemies he brought down would have made a cloak of near equal to the coat of avian gold. Brother Eagle has been silent for son seasons now, he was the last to speak to him before tools and chemicals claimed much of the forests. His burden hung heavy across his scarred chest, his hart seldom soared, but breath still is drawn for another “good day to die”. Death has forsaken the cursed, laughing from the other side of the river with no fire, and how he so longed for the long sleep.

Dense ceramic coated sharks swam through the air patently, circling inward, high tech senses sweep for the faintest sign.

Dorsal fins whine as twin turbine Mercedes engines crank to half thrust as the pack gather towards the sinking sun. North ward is the mountains, Sedona, Black Canyon and a rumble of a gasohol burner. I-17 is hardly travelable doe to the DMV collapsing with the creation of Ground Effect Machines. Hover freight transport would roar over Ferro concrete sand blasting micro meter at each passing. Broken slabs made for good ‘B’ post holocaust movies. Solid 40 centimeter tires found grip as the gigantic metal slug neared. Archaic vehicle rolled, down shifting, crunching to a hissing stop. Lacquered chrome, near solid save for the narrow view ports above its idling snout, reflected twilight hues of the night sky.

“Ya need a ride?” came flatly from a cheep hidden speaker, “Or are you gon’na hold (pop) up traffic?”

Night’s heavy veil began to settled. Radiant sensors auto switch on krypton halogen head lights.

Dark hair sway as camouflaged uniformed figure climbed into the cab. Visably soreness racked the taunt body, diligence forced him on. Internal environs pressurised the chamber as dust flew out from under reinforced tires. Green consol lights in fornt of the driver gave him an eerie look of a corpse with three days of facial growth. Plad pattern sleeves hung from a skeletal frame as blood shot eyes stared forward. Faint smell of sweat and tobacco lingered. Kilometers rolled by as pain settled in where the feeling of dread loomed. City lights faded as they head eastward. Faded green mile marker riddled with holes read, ”Globe 97”, few letters of remains of the next town or city name gone by corrosion and shotgun blast. The night seemed to solidify, rocking cab made sleep fall faster.

Un Named location Turkey: Day February 2080
21:58 May 28 2006
Times Read: 570






Safety lever sliding to semi-auto, cross hairs cross vector on black hooded head, brown almond shaped eyes focus on the contents within a crate of ammunition cans. Dual turret twenty millimeter Vulcan cannons swivel on its base as the automatic anti aircraft system runs a functional check. One defense point of many, but this was not the target he was given. Sticky sweat clings to tan skin. Virtually invisible to a passer by with in a meter and thermal scopes, carbon muzzle painted to match the terrain. Intel sent the unit out here for a recon for a new landing zone; apparently their intelligence was aware of the possibility. Romeo Three nearly half a kilometer away, Romeo Two gave the order to climb this hill, and Romeo One is on the next hill watching. Micro bead broke the silence,” Romeo Four… Romeo One, contain and stand by”.

Gritting teeth acknowledged the command. A desert slug made its way to the sentry, pausing only to ensure detection was evaded, gravel and rocks bit at his limbs and chest. ‘I hate the day… you may be a patriot for your cause, as warriors we made the decision…’ Soft rock rest against the ‘AA’ gun, waiting for the next can to be placed on the base, hooded face met sandy wall as meshed hand crushed upper vertebrae. ‘May your god receive you in honor.’ Twin six barrel guns continue hydraulically spin hungrily as warning alarm announces the arrival of targets five kilometers out. With a flick of a main switch motors and pumps fall silent. ‘Mission accomplished, but Rome wasn’t built in a day.’

Four twin prop Osprey II land as his team secure the perimeter. More desert camouflage and corporate grey climb out. ‘What did they want with this location?’ Two score of silver unmarked cases in each grey glove.

“Romeo One to Recon team, get into the transports. Time to go ” voice reverberates in his ear.

Bio-tech symbol on the collar of the grey suits of what company is uncertain.

One hundred meters off the ground the transports angle their wings for forward momentum, glints of chrome positioned in a circle, then fade. The team seemed uneasy with the lame task given to them but none spoke the whole trip.

Hours later the opposing forces surrendered in a mass of delirium, visions of giant scorpions and spiders, and some just shook where they stood. Over two thousand corpses found in the hills where the lame mission was finished. Torn to pecies with out friendly forces with in a hundred kilometers of their location and command denies any involvement with the incident.

Week’s later corporations contact him with job offers, his tour nearly up, but the hunger returns.

Fire light murder of trespassers.
21:53 May 28 2006
Times Read: 572

Foliage bound to buck skin, white devils march on their path made with horse and wagon. Darkness will hide them only for a short time. ‘Chief Ten Bears said not to fight them, Shaman spoke more truly with his warning of the trespassing of the white devils, but nothing was said of following them. New moon will make them huddle closer to their fires and morning fog will allow a closer look. Toe -- heal steps dogged the soldiers, black wolf pelt added to stealth passage.

Fires dotted the camp, wagons, tents, and thunder stick armed blue jackets spread neatly about. Dark ears rise above shrub top, two pairs of eyes alight from closer fires. Blue coats match the number of fingers and toes, a hand full of white coats, and two Cherokee women dressed like whites.

“ Damned bitch watch what you are doing!” Bellowed a pale white coat as the woman reeled back as white arm finished its swing. Rage flared, body shook, and growls erupted from the bush line. Vision blurred as white was painted red, blue turned to black in the fire light, and silence was left.

When the great Spirit answeres our nations plea.
21:50 May 28 2006
Times Read: 573

Plains land … night time



Ceremonial gathering sang their prayers for a protector of the children, ancestors, and the land that they depend upon. Grey fog roll over the cave floor swallowing rock, bone, and decorated animal fur. Fire light dance across crude paintings that line the cave wall, mist washes over their sacrifice to the Great Spirit. Sweat soaked tan skin fades, two spirits become as one, and the body dies as grey clouds disappear into pale nose and mouth. Animated flesh stagers out of the cave. The Clan prospered, their prayers answered, guardian remembered in stories told by the elders.

Blood Trails
21:37 May 28 2006
Times Read: 574

Story by Chrome Fangs (Pen Name)





In living memory of Gandalf, We are honored to share your life with us.



Prolog



San Francisco Peninsula, California: 2341PCT 1April 2092



Blood trails down hairless pale cheeks, curving around fanged grin. Ruby droplets fall to mingle with rain water, road sludge, and alley rubbish. Water whooshing out from under passing hover cars has drowned out groans of injured metro policemen unheard as bullet holes through pale skin seal themselves; long, pale fingers fumble with the chin strap containing a dying man’s head. A sweat-soaked dense plastic helmet rolls free, the short crop-haired skull droops lifelessly, and silicon-chipped studs line the right temple glisten in the city lights. Leather sleeves unsheathe from a plated-chest cavity, a kneeling body falls to soaked cartons of recycled circuit boards.

‘There were twelve of them… don’t smell any more past the alleys. Why did they use the locals? To buy them time… figures! An hour maybe two if they think I enjoy dispatching innocents. Carl’s dogs will be on my heels soon. I got to get out of here. Twelve… too easy… What does that fucker think he’s doing? I wouldn’t be in this mess if he didn’t make me …’ Sirens wail in the distance. Draping his long leather overcoat over the corpse, he bowed his head in mourning a senseless death. Mini-jets whine down, white beams swing into the alley as red and blue lights pulse. Two more Urban Panthers flank the first. Krypton eyes survey a four-meter space between Ferro concrete walls. Thermal imaging showed fading red figure shapes.

“Metro seven theta three to base … “, The patrolman spoke into his communications microphone with a grimacing face framed by green neon behind a tactical heads-up display as he spoke.

“Base… Seven Theta three… proceed with your report” came across the speaker.

“You’d better send a few meat wagons to Industrial Avenue and 32nd. No sign of the perpetrator…We’ll need a clean-up crew before the media shows up.” Waves of bile leapt into his throat. “Better make it fucking quick… looks like we have a survivor….”

The sole survivor dragged entrails behind his ripped torso toward the light, haggard breathing sputtering blood through shattered visor. “Hel… pp…”

“Base… Seven Theta three… copy, Red Cross Bios en route. Be advised… Security’s Technologies team has reported that a W.H.O. combat unit is near your vicinity.

“Shit…! Seven Theta three to base copy… Beginning sweep” The gloved hand typed in a new frequency. “Fucking genetic purists”, he spat as he spun his Panther around.



Ten meters up, hanging from fiber optic conduit and watching the Metro Police turned away from the alley, a pale figure snaps on his new jacket. Ripping off a San Francisco Metropolitan Police Force patch off his shoulder, ‘”Weird Happenings Organization” Carl is getting desperate. ‘He’s got the “Normality Police” out for my white ass. I guess he’s having trouble covering this up… “Genetic purist” …Shit … if he only knew’.

A waft of stale musk intruded hyper-sensitive nostrils. ‘Well … well… well. Here come the *ghoulies*. They’re getting better.’ Chills rolled across his back. ’Fuck… The old man’s with them. Shit is getting serious. Well, time to go.’

A black blur briefly passes in through a holographic “No Vacancy” at the other end of the alley.



Ten-wheeled flat white Brazilian with chrome lettering “W.H.O. Inc.” centered on its ceramic armor plating slows to a halt. Rising up from the mid section, a multiple-lens surveillance turret armed with twin 50-calibur chain guns makes a single sweep. Diesel turbines roar out as a pneumatic breaks hiss, and a white behemoth inches into traffic. The turret returns to its position.



A worn Zippo flicks to life as a blue flame lights a Mild Seven. An orange glow hooded by ash colored hand. The high collar veils the woman’s face, her gun metal grey Panama Hat keeping the polluted rain off of her crimson hair.

Corporate workers heard their way in the rain, dodging each other and single-minded to their destination.



Ruby eyes glare through a tinted bay window. Like the hours before, a white-furred head watches the large passerby go on about their business. Once in a while there would be a non-fur look in on him with its flat snout and point its short-clawed paw at him. The feeder would wave metal at him, doing its silly things. The brightness was gone, food and water available, and a soft cave was waiting for him to return. The smell of Feathereds, scales and odd water was there each waking period, but a new smell made its way to his nose.

The stink of dirty water from outside lasted for a few breaths. Whiskers felt movement - something as big as the flat snouts. A Feathered squawked, and then silence permeated the space. He slunk to the barrier where the feeder stands and hiked up onto his hind haunches to catch a scent of what he felt approaching. There was no scent but a sensation that had not been recalled. He stretched as far as he could, paws against the cold surface, seeing only the red shiny in the distance.

There it was - the feeling, and then the noise of clumping paws on the other side. Dirty water smell preceded the feeling and plodding noise, with a blunt snout nearly the same color as his legs with its non-light fur glistening with dirty water. Cool fur less paws, quick yet gentle, scoop him into its grasp. A comforting rub with a firm hold keeps him from squirming out. A blunt snout brings its nose to his; its eyes are black like its fur.



“Hello you, and what’s you name? ‘Mustela Putorius Furo Hyper’ Gandalf… hmm, well handsome, it looks like you got it made. Food, water, a warm place to rest, an occasional check up… what’s this…?” A data board hangs near the identification plate. He returned the animal to the pen with one hand wile plucking up the digital pad. His furrowed brow wrinkles to the title of “Gene Pets”.

“Well Gandalf, we’re two of a kind you might say. Genetically altered and don’t what or why we are, but you don’t have a few dozen mega corp. after you. Let’s see here … it’s says your vitals are normal for you, high protein diet with monthly supplements, and you show signs of exceptional intelligence. Well if you’re so smart. What do you think I should do... hmm? ”

Pale skin meets white-fur tipped in pink diamond, ruby orbs glaring at black, and scents exchange between them in the heavy-shadowed store.

Both yawn at the same time. Images of the street past a bay window fills two minds’ eyes, in response *dangerous rats*. Both acknowledge that uncertainty did not concern them.

“Well, Gandalf… ‘Exceptional intelligence’ is a bit short-sighted, eh?” He placed the animal on his shoulder, thinking it would be safer if it didn’t try to jump from there. A cool, moist nose nuzzled his earlobe in understanding. He made his way around the stock, grabbing 10 kilos of protein kibble, a shoulder satchel carrier, a harness, a box of what he understood as treats and a portable pet environ bubble – small.

Double-checked the data board for any other needs for the animal, and stored it within the satchel. The burglary would be on data file but the Metro wouldn’t be in time. Flipping the camera the bird, another corporate subsidiary to and from his list of pursuers, he went out the back the way he came in. Hours passed and no animal stirred, even when the insurance security team went over his tracks viewed on their digital display. The shop clerk said very little about the animal, she knew very little and didn’t want to bring more attention to her business. The rain had stopped for awhile anyway.







Copy Rights reserved.