The Beauchamp Chronicles: Humanity

The Prologue

A high pitched ring filled the theater mesmerizing the ears of the audience. The master of such music was a small Russian man with swept blonde hair and fingers that fluttered effortlessly off strings as he swayed with the drag of his bow. If you closed your eyes you could almost imagine each note being a black dot on the back of a monarch butterfly that drifted along in the wind. If you could taste each note your tongue would be overwhelmed by the sweet sapidity of nectar. It was in this essence of nectar and monarchs that Vera Beauchamp sat his hazel eyes fixated on the master in front of him. He admired the poise of the man, the way his body and bow seemed to have an endless connection. A familiar elongated note let Vera know that piece was coming to an end and he braced himself for the silence that would fill the room before frozen spectators would erupt with applause. The silence came, the applause filled the air, and the curtains went down signaling the end of the show. The crowd poured its way out of the theater and the silence was replaced with statements of praise and admiration. Vera snaked his way through the mass of warm bodies, expensive perfume, and whiny children who honestly had no place in the theater, but had been dragged there by their parents. One by one the spectators made their way out of the theater's gold doors and on to the cobblestone streets.

The world outside the theater was different.

In the theater everything was perfectly molded right down to the velvet chairs that audience sat in. Outside the world was primal and naked with spontaneity. Even in the still of nighttime you could feel the atmosphere pulsating to an unbalanced beat. Vera turned down a familiar set of side streets that would take him out of the city and to the countryside he knew as home. He walked with an aimless gaze in his eyes once he separated himself from the theater all he had to do was get home. The journey between that was empty and routine. It had no real meaning besides transporting him from one location to another. From a figurative home to his real one. Even the distant chatter that was coming from his family was routine. Amelie complaining about the show, Atticus asking her to ease herself, Gideon being optimistic, and Chevalier with Deseen paying attention, but never fully entertaining the conversation.

Every moment of it was sickeningly rythmatic and Vera wished it would come to an end. It has been said that man should be careful with what he wishes for and perhaps Vera's thoughts had permeated from his mind into the air. Fore once he reached the final familiar alleyway the pulse of the atmosphere quickened to an arrhythmic beat. Vera hadn't noticed it, but he had unconsciously started to walk faster and his family was now far behind him. He was alone now, but that was only the beginning of the strange situations to come.

The stillness of the night air was ripped a part by a piercing scream that jammed its way into Vera's sensitive ears. Impulsively, he ran towards the noise his agile body easily meandering around the shops until he found himself behind an abandoned apartment building. For normal eyes it would be difficult to see through the darkness, but Vera could easily survey what was in front of him. A young girl, no older than his sister, had her face pressed into the rocky gravel. Her clothes were thrown to the side leaving her naked and her hips were being forced to bounce off the pelvis of a greasily man. As if that wasn't enough a slightly smaller man was beating in her head with an iron pipe. Vera wasn't a hero, but he could never be made into a bystander.

A rage filled heat scorched through his veins as he reached into his most primal instincts. His first order of business was the man with the pipe. Evolution had never been kind to humans so by the time the man noticed Vera he had already separated his head from his body. The second man released the girl's hips and cowered away, but Vera was not amused by his pleading. A low growl escaped his lips as he pounced at the man. Vera cupped his face into his right hand and slammed his head against the concrete as they fell. His life ended with a thud that echoed through the alleyway and a satisfying crack that broke his skull in two.

The burning in his body subdued as he remember the naked girl was still alone. He moved to her and found her lifeless. Her body was a still as the air and he was certain she was dead. Cautiously, he moved to kneel down beside her. Her head was heavily disfigured from the beating, but beneath the blood he could tell that her face had once been beautiful. He reached out slowly to touch her hair when he found himself being grabbed the wrist. The girl's eyes flung open and she used what little energy she had scream and claw at him. She grabbed at his clothes leaving them lined with blood and dirt. In her frenzy she weakly his met his gaze and realized he was not her attacker. The clawing continued, but this time it was filled with a begging passion. Her thin mouth quivered as she barley let out the words: "Please don't let me die." She repeated the phrase until she exhausted herself and could nothing more than lay still. Torn between empathy and apathy Vera scooped the girl into his arms. The outside world was slowly returning to its still and routine state as he turned around and met the perplexed eyes his family. "We have to save her." Was all he said to answer their unspoken questions.