Blood: The Immortal Nightmare

Birth of a Demon

The rain tapped lightly against the window as the boy looked at the tree outside. It's branches were waving wildly about, as the wind whipped and howled, just like it had been for hours. He turned around again, looking to see if the night officer had come to check on him again. "Not like it makes a difference..." he muttered to himself.

He had been in jail for 3 days already, and was feeling less inclined to interact with the adults by the second. After walking into the front door of his home, just out of school, he saw a room painted with the blood of his parents. Both were lying in pools of the crimson liquid, and it could be seen about the entire rest of the room as well, as if someone had splatter painted the walls and ceiling.

After calling the police, he was taken into custody, and told that social services would come to get him when a worker could come down. 3 days of waiting, and still no one, still in jail. After what he'd already been through, and now this... he couldn't trust them anymore. They lied to him, and locked him up, so he thought to himself, "I'm leaving here tonight."

Finally, after another half hour, the officer came to check on him again. When he was nowhere to be seen, however, the officer briefly described the situation over radio, then entered the cell to check for him. He had called repeatedly for the boy, but with no response, he entered carefully, feeling something was suspicious about the situation.

Not thinking to look up, however, was the worst, and last mistake of his life. The boy dropped onto the officer's head, falling from the top of the door frame where he'd been holding himself up, out of view. There was a muffled gasp, as the officer began to understand what was happening, then a snap as his neck broke, and he dropped to the floor.

The boy got up, standing next to the body now, and looked it over briefly. He took the roll of keys he'd had, along with the non lethal, personnel control gear he'd been carrying. From there, it was only easier as things went. He walked down the hallway, to the door leading out of the max security wing he was in; the isolation unit. He took a quick glance into the next room through the tiny window in the door.

On the other side, there were two officers; one on a computer, the other looking to be asleep on his feet. He took a second to steady his nerves, then unlocked and flung open the door. With a crash, the door hit the wall it was attached to, startling and briefly disorienting the guards. With a "bean bag" already loaded, the boy aimed the barrel of the launcher toward the officer at the computer, smashing his wheeled chair against the far wall, and knocking him out with the concussion he received upon bashing his had against the wall.

The officer by the exit barely had a chance to react, as the boy cocked another bag into the chamber, and let 2 loose on him before he hit the floor. "Easy enough, but I'm gonna need more once I'm out. Something with more permanence..." The boy jingles the keys around, checking 3 before the door opened, before slotting the successful key into the space between his ring and pinky finger. "But this'll have to do for now."

The boy proceeded through the jail in a much similar fashion, but adding keys to his improvised spiked knuckles along the way. Some proved easy enough to take down with the guards gear, but those with stronger wills or builds went down easy enough with a few puncture wounds added to the barrage of bags, replenished by store rooms and other carrying officers.

The end of the line, the exit, the last thing between the boy and freedom, was finally before him. "You gotta be chaining my yank..." he whispered. 5 guards were posted at the door, 2 with some very real looking pistols, drawn and ready. It would seem a jailbreak is a bit difficult to do stealthily. Nonetheless, he wouldn't be stopped now, after so much already.

There were 3 keys left dangling, of which, only one could fit the door, as 2 had already been used for various store rooms. The 4 canisters of tear gas collected from the jail by this point, would be quite useful to the boy. Which is exactly what he had in mind. With a quick, fluid movement, the boy drew the string he'd fashioned from his socks, over the last few days, from all the canister's pins, as he swung and flung them through the door, as he cracked it open just enough to do so.

Within a minute, every officer there, not anticipating the intelligence, combat prowess and resourcefulness of the potential escapee, was laying unconscious on the floor, deprived of oxygen. The boy donned the tactical oxygen mask he'd taken from the riot gear room, and strolled out the doors, taking time to enjoy the liberty and victory he now had. That was the first taste he'd have of the cruelty and demand for subjugation by this world. Unfortunately for the world, they now had to answer for the monster they'd made, and would learn to shudder in fear of.