Bred For Extinction

The Sheep becomes Wolf

The candle flame is driven low with the gust of air from the slammed door, yet sparks back to life as the air stills. Nothing moves as the vagrant stands, eyes flashing through the dim light for any sign of what is happening. Then the sound comes from behind, slow scratching fingernails being drawn across the wooden door just before the exterior lock was slid into place with a metallic clank by an outside hand. The vagabond spins, muscles taut, yet making little movement but to stand in the same place staring at what slowly etches towards him. Like a shadow the aged articulate vampire slides forward, movements graceful yet eerie in slow strides as it comes closer to examine its prey.

"Oh yes, you are a strong one. I can see in the outline of that robe...muscles, strength...mmmm, how I admire strong men, love to caress their skin bulging with potency. But your features are hidden to me by that hood, won't you let me see?" The vampire twists his head in perplexing ways for a closer look. "No answer? Is ok, surely you are confused, but don't be...it is all just a part of life, what is happening to you tonight...oh perhaps an unknown part to most, but still many have faced this, even I once went through this moment."

The vagrant still makes no motion, only standing tense as his facial features lie hid beneath the white hood of the hotel robe as the vampire floats closer.A long bony finger outstretching a curved blackened nail to pry back the robe's covering of the man's hairy chest. "Oh my, what a prize I have been brought this night...and silent too...such a quality...mmmm, if my loins still functioned how I would love to have you beneath me in passion...I could show you such things. But still, I can show you better things, for even though my physical love ended long ago, the ecstasy of the mind is so much more orgasmic." Slowly, the vampire begins to circle his quarry, eyes dashing in lust up and down the tramp's frame. "Oh yes, I wish to keep you. How does that sound...to be part of my family? I can always use a strong, silent associate...that is when I tire of playing with you. But until then, mmmm yes, you will make my nights alive again. And I can sense you want this, oh yes, for others would already be begging for their pitiful life in the corner, screaming for mercy, mmm but I love that too. I am a man of many perversions, as you will see."

Again, the vampire stands in front of his victim, mere inches away as he flows closer and closer in heated lustful tones, "So you will be mine? Yes, you will for you do not buckle from my advances, and silence must mean yes. Oh I cannot wait to have you, look at me, like a school girl flush with excitement...I must have you now." With that, weathered wrinkled fingers slide back the robe's neckline in nervous anticipation, exposing the corded muscular neck of the vagrant, and as the vampire's eyes close in expectancy, he whispers soft, "It will only string for a moment, my new love," before monstrous fangs protrude and dive deep into firm flesh.

The vagabond's body tenses as knife-like teeth dig deep into his flesh; head tilted back as his hood slips off exposing long brown hair that dangles down over his shoulders. The vampire, greedy in lust sucks hard, over and over again, tasting full from the streaming crimson river that flows over his lips and down his throat. The thick metallic elixir so sweet at first...so sweet, suddenly brings about a burning fire in the vampires intestines scorching upwards into his throat and mouth until no longer can he hold his grip on the man from the pain searing in his mind. Pulling back, he stumbles...staggering in wretchful convulsions backwards, backwards ......landing full force into his own wooden throne that rests against the wall. His eyes wild with pain as deep pants huff from his lungs...blood streams over lips as his stomach begins to expel that which in non-digestible to him to large syrupy clots.

Now, for the first time, Mochan speaks, " What is the matter, dear...does this mean you do not enjoy my taste...can I not be a member of your family now?" Eyes narrow in a gleeful sneer as he approaches the agonized vampire, "That disappoints me, I wanted so much to be...how did you say...your lover?" Slow fingers stretch up to massage Mochan's jaw as he ponders the situation, "You wanted a bitch, but found a beast...so sad for you. But don't worry, I won't let you die like this, burning with the taste of my blood on your lips...no...your blood and heart will be mine." Mochan's eyes close, allowing the metamorphosis to begin, knowing the sight of the change itself will be enough to send the already distressed vampire into deeper stages of fear and pain. As silver fur pours forth from pores and bones elongate, the change becomes real with flashing silver eyes, and the fear shows reflecting in the vampires eyes just before jagged canines dive deep to feast on aged vampiric flesh. Mochan's own greedy claws rip and shred deep into the master's chest, spewing forth canals of red liquid that pour down the aged vampire's frame and collect in puddles on the ground as the werewolf called Mochan devours flesh and sustenance in a hasteful rage as the vampire's flailing arms strike the single illuminating candle...dousing its flame. Finally, when the vampire kicks and moans no more, is it known that the heart has been consumed and the power of its substance merged into Mochan's own entity...and the room is still in blackness and silence.

As power surges through Mochan's frame, his mind is already wandering further...to where he should be next. He had mentioned to Rowane he would return to the pack, yet he knows he cannot be fulfilled in their activities. No he must go higher, find stronger and stronger sources of food...it felt so good...so powerful. One word kept flashing in his mind..."Outcast." The word spoken by that shivering vampire in the forest..."I would be outcast"...and one vision kept flashing to his mind...that of the wretched crawling creature that he encountered that night he was first discovered by the pack that made him what he was today. Surely, that beast was outcast, and to be in such a state that it was...old, desolate, miserable....it would have something to give, some information, if a bargain could be reached....perhaps a feeding would entice it to give up locations or data that would lead to deeper and more powerful confrontations. Yes, Rowane was right, he was meant for greater things.

Suddenly, in the dark, was the noise heard. A bolt being slid...the slow creaking of the massive wooden door inward and Mochan's breath became suspended, waiting for opportunity. The word that now floated hushed over the thick air reached his ears in but an instance, "Master?" Slothful were the footsteps that entered the chamber, two men unsure of their surroundings. More words emitted in the pure darkness, "Strange, the candle would not be burning."

"He has probably fed and is sleeping Thanas. Let's leave him alone." The nervous voice of Michael replies, wanting only to return to the safer surrounding of the upstairs bar.

"The master never sleeps at night, fool. Something is not right here. I swear to you Michael, if you have lied to me, you will be my meal."

"I haven't lied, I swear...I did just as you told me...hold on....I've got a lighter..."

As the lighter's flame flicks to life, there is just enough time for both men's eyes to catch a glimpse of a torn and shattered body lying limply in the wooden throne before they are caught up in a rush of supremacy that tosses both of them limply into the far wall. And even as the lighter burns no more, Mochan has no hindrance feasting on their cadavers in the dark.

Time has passed as Mochan stands once again in the kitchen of the hotel, his eyes scanning the workers for the one who accompanied him earlier upstairs to a room. The robe is gone now, for white shows blood heavily and besides his true clothes were not far away hidden behind an outside dumpster. There, the young boy that served his boss earlier bustled busily with choirs. "Boy, " Mochan's voice called out like a megaphone across the scene of clanking pots and pans of the kitchen.

"Yea? Do I know you?"

"Not important...here," Mochan's hand extends to present the boy with a wallet, empty of identification, yet full of bills. "The boss said you deserved this and to bring it to you."

"Wow, thanks." Eyes are wide as the boy stares at the stuffed wallet.

"Take care kid, and watch who you serve in the future, ok?"

"Sure, but are you sure I don't know you?"

"Naw, you don't know me." And with that, Mochan turns to stride out the kitchen service door, on his way to his next rendezvous.