Scribbles and Drabbles

Vampire Drabble 1

Written: 2020

It was dark. The Warhead Tribe had attacked their camp. In the panic, he'd got separated from the rest of his men. They had all grown too lax with the reduction of battles in recent months. All the fractions were searching for the thing that would give them an edge. The thing that would let them become the primary power in the lands. The Warheads weren't going to stop killing rival fractions so quickly.

The landscape was in ruins from years prior. The city was devoid of life; it had been for many years. It made it the perfect location to fight a war without killing innocents. Both sides had set up camps here while searching for the secrets of the previous age.

"Ethan," a voice called, a smooth undertone of coaxing in it. "Come out, please. We need to talk."

It took everything Ethan had not to snort at that. Funny way of talking. Attacking the camp and scattering them all, so they were alone and vulnerable before sweeping them all up in chains. Ethan knew Jethro's methods of dealing with his enemies.

Ethan looked around. He was crouched behind a broken wall, the concrete grey and bare. He was upstairs but only one floor up so if he needed to jump, he could. Jethro was nearby but not dangerously so. Not yet, but if he kept moving in his direction, Ethan was a sitting duck. It was hard to see in the dim, but there was enough ambient light that Ethan could move mostly unhindered. There were no shining lights, either Jethro was using tech to find him, or he was as blind as he was.

Jethro's steps were oddly confident despite the darkness. Confident and getting ever steadily closer to his hiding spot. Tech, most likely, night goggles or the like. Ethan needed to move.

He darted to the next spot, wincing as a nail ripped into his arm. Clutching it softly, Ethan couldn't see how bad it was. It was wet; he was bleeding. Excellent, lovely, just what he needed.

"Ethan?" Jethro's voice shifted, and there was a sniffing sound. "You're hurt? Not too bad, I hope."

A whisper of something moved through Ethan. An uncomfortable feeling that he had not felt in a very long time. It couldn't be. Ethan gripped his arm and breathed slowly, pushing his pain away. If that were true, Jethro would locate him soon enough. Ethan bit his lip and moved forward, walking through the ruins carefully, but the man was getting closer. Every footstep echoed in Ethan's ears. His heart hammered in his chest. He knew what this feeling was; it was panic. He was panicking.

Fuck.

"Come out, Ethan. I want to check that injury of yours."

There was a cry of pain from outside. Alli was hurt. Ethan pushed to the side of the building, trying to see in the dark. Alli was whimpering somewhere nearby, surrounded by whispers but he wasn't screaming. His arm complained as Ethan pulled himself to the next level. There was nothing he could do for Alli right now. Not without getting himself killed. Alli wouldn't be killed. They couldn't kill Alli without retribution from their own. Many of the Warheads hailed from the same territory as the young man; they were protective over what they saw as theirs. Terrible things could still happen to him, but Ethan's men would get Alli out soon enough. Hopefully.

"Ethan, I'm getting impatient now," Jethro warned, his voice starting to take on a new level of dark and frustrated. "Come out and face me!"

"In daylight, sure," Ethan breathed.

The chuckle confirmed the tugging in the back of Ethan's mind. Not good. He needed to make a choice here. If Jethro truly had made the change, Ethan wouldn't be able to hide too much longer. He couldn't have been changed that long ago, anyone trained would be able to appear in front of him in a heartbeat. That brought a new set of dangers. Running could trigger a berserker reaction, however.