Deadly Attraction

Deadly Attraction Part 2 (Short Chapters Version)

Chapter 2: Life or Death

As the first light of dawn began to pierce the dark morning sky, Vic lay beside Aaron, whose body convulsed uncontrollably on the cold tile floor. Panic enveloped them both, a thick fog of fear and confusion as the sirens wailed through the streets. The town, once shrouded in the quiet of the early hours, was now awakened by the sounds of alarms and blinding police lights.

Vic's mind raced, thoughts tumbling over each other in a desperate search for answers. The serenity of the morning had shattered, replaced by the urgency of the unfolding emergency. Reporters, drawn to the chaos like moths to a flame, descended upon the scene, their cameras and questions probing for the truth.

Paramedics burst through the convenience store doors, their presence a blur to Vic as they commanded, "STEP BACK! STEP AWAY FROM THE YOUNG MAN!" Their voices, loud and authoritative, echoed in his ears, a stark contrast to the silence that had preceded them. Rough gloved hands gripped Vic, pulling him away from Aaron, whose life seemed to hang by a thread. Yet, as Aaron lay convulsing on the floor, the urgency of the situation became painfully clear. Vic's mysterious bloodline, once shrouded in the shadows of ignorance, now demanded to be acknowledged if Aaron was to be saved.

A syringe, filled with a metallic substance, plunged into Aaron's chest as the paramedics fought to save him. "WE'RE LOSING HIM! GET THE DEFIBRILLATORS!" they shouted, their words a grim harbinger of the gravity of the situation. Vic, rooted to the spot in shock, could only watch as Aaron was eventually loaded onto a stretcher, his fate uncertain.

Detective Monica Denam, her brown ponytail swaying with determination, observed the scene with a critical eye. The call of a possible poisoning had disrupted her morning, drawing her to the corner of 5th, where the convenience store now stood as the epicenter of the crisis.

"Is that him?" she inquired, pointing a stern finger at Vic. The paramedic nodded, confirming her suspicions. "Yeah, we found a poisonous substance on the boy; it's probably from him." Her gaze, sharp and unyielding, fixed on Vic, who sat hyperventilating, the reality of the situation crashing down upon him.

"Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to stand up, back against the wall. Place your hands against the wall as I speak to you. Do not remove your hands for any reason," she instructed, her voice brooking no argument. Vic, tears streaming down his face, complied, his body moving mechanically as he faced the wall. Two officers stood wide-eyed behind her, their gloved hands tingling toward their guns, ready for any ill-intended movement.

"What breed are you, sir?" Detective Denam asked, her notepad at the ready. Vic's response was a stutter, "Armenian... Armenian Devil." But the detective was unconvinced. "No, I don't believe you are. That boy is in critical condition right now, barely hanging on to life." She stared angrily at vic with a frown.

"It's on my birth certificate. I'm... I know what I am," Vic protested weakly. But Detective Denam's skepticism was clear. "No, I don't think you do," she countered.

In that moment, Vic's life flashed before his eyes, the pieces of his existence falling into place with a clarity that was both enlightening and terrifying. The rejection he had faced at birth, the doorstep of the adoption agency that had become his cradle, the unanswered questions of his heritage-all pointed to a truth he had never considered. He was dangerous, a threat to those around him, and now, to Aaron, whose only crime was a friendly encounter that had turned life-threatening.

Vic's life in the small town was marked by the ordinary and mundane, a contrast to the extraordinary secret that lay dormant within his very genes. Adopted from Armenia, his birth certificate bore the name "Armenian Devil," a label he carried with pride yet with a hint of mystery.