...and the Darkness consumes us...
(The scene opens up and we see a large brown oak door, intricately laced with carvings and designs on the front. Clouded glass windows surround the door, making it impossible to see inside the building which it belongs to. The camera pans out and around, and we see the front of the "Lee & Todd Funeral Home", the white panelling reflecting the sun's rays, making it hard to look at directly. Moving in closer, the camera follows a woman and man , their ages somewhere in the 50s, as they approach the door. The man is dressed in a stone-gray suit, with a powdered blue Oxford shirt and a black tie and black dress shoes on. The woman, his wife, is clothed in a somber dark gray dress, with black stockings and black heeled shoes. With expressions of dismay on their faces, the couple opens the door and slowly, sadly enters the funeral home. In front of them, a sign is displayed:
Memorial Service of Jason Marcus Lobo
August 10th, 11:00 A.M.
The man tugs at his suit jacket sleeve, pulling it up so he can view his watch. 10:03 A.M. The man turns his attention down the hall and preceeds to make his way there, followed by his wife. They enter the main viewing room, where Charles Lee, one of the funeral home owners, is making final preparations for the funeral. Charles is an elderly man, his balding white hair combed over so as to give the appearance that he's not losing his hair. Golden wire-frame glasses rest on his nose, and his face is suprisingly void of wrinkles, especially for a man of his age. His thin body is covered in a dark navy blue suit, with a white button-up shirt, a navy tie, and carefully polished dark brown shoes. At the sound of the husband and wife's entrance into the room, Charles shifts his concentration to them. Both the man and woman still have the sullen, depressed expression etched on their faces. Charles approaches them with a smile, in hopes that it would somehow cheer them up.)
CHARLES: Mr. and Mrs. Lobo, how are you?
(The couple regards him with the same look as before, the attempt of cheering them up obviously despondent.)
MR. LOBO: It is the day of our only son's funeral. How do you think we are?
CHARLES: I'm sorry. It was just instinct to ask that. Please forgive me.
MR. LOBO: Don't worry about it. Is everything ready?
CHARLES: It seems so. As you can see, I've got all of the chairs in the seating arrangement you desired, and I've placed the flower arrangements and pictures around the casket as we discussed...
(The husband and wife look around the room, their eyes purposefully avoiding the looming, ebony casket at the end of the room. The room has two entrances: the one that the husband & wife came through, and one on the left side of the room, opposite the casket, leading to the outside. The wallpaper is a light blue, with a gray weaving of designs on the border near the ceiling. Various silver lamps and decor are scattered throughout. Around the room are several wooden end tables, each with at least 3 or 4 unlit candles. The candleholders are all silver, to match the rest of the color scheme in the place.)
MRS. LOBO: And what's with all of the candles? We didn't request those...
CHARLES: Well, I put those in at my own liberty. I thought that once they were all lit, it would give the place a warm atmosphere.
(He then gestures towards the back of the room...Towards the black casket.)
CHARLES: As the parents, of course, you get the priviledge of viewing your son first...
(Mr. Lobo nods his head as his wife begans to sob. Tears well up in her eyes as she reaches into her purse for a packet of Kleenex. Charles leads them up to the casket and opens the waist-up section of the lid. Placed there, inside that box of death, is the cold, unmoving, deceased body of Jason Marcus Lobo. The 22-year old male lies in the casket, his arms crossed over his chest, his body surrounded by the red silk lining. Jason rests there, in the unforgiving grip of Death's hand, his still form making him appear to be only asleep, aside from the lack of breathing. He is not attired in your normal funeral suit and tie. Dressed in a black Ozzy Osbourne shirt and, covered by the remainder of the casket lid, tattered baggy, black jeans and black Vans shoes, this grunge metal-head breaks the mold for the average departed soul. His deep brown hair is gelled up in a semi-spiked fashion, looking more like he just woke up than the precision spiking of most metal-heads' hair. The silver rings and studs in his ears and the spiked stud in his libré stand out like a fire in the wilderness night. Charles looks upon his body, waiting, as Mr. & Mrs. Lobo stand in silence, apart from the occasional bursts of crying and weeping. After a considerable amount of time, Charles dares to interrupt the moment by posing a question.
CHARLES: Now, you're sure that this is what you want him dressed in? It's not exactly normal funeral apparel.
(Mrs. Lobo fights back her tears before answering the funeral director.)
MRS. LOBO: Well, nothing about Jason was ever "normal" or "average"...I just don't think it would be right to put him in a suit. He hasn't worn one since he was little and we made him.
CHARLES: Fair enough. (He gestures towards Jason's neck, on the left side, farthest away from the viewing position, where two puncture marks, side by side, reside.) Now, these neck wounds I couldn't completely cover up, but I did try and situate him so they aren't seen. What was it again that killed him?
MR. LOBO: We're not sure...The doctors at first said that it was maybe a wild dog or something, but if that were true, there would be more slash marks and tearing at the neck. The only other thing they could think of was a poisonous snake. Only problem was, there was no poison found in his blood. Even worse, the blood in his body didn't seem to be his.
CHARLES: What...? How is that possible?
MR. LOBO: I don't know, but when the doctors ran the tests for the snake venom, it came back that his blood type, DNA, everything, was different. Obviously figuring that it was a mistake, they ran the tests again. Same results...over and over. Seven times they ran the tests, and seven times they found the exact same thing...Someone, or something else's blood was residing in his body. How, no one knows. It just...doesn't make sense.
(After a few moments of awkward silence as the three contemplate the mystery, Mrs. Lobo speaks up.)
MRS. LOBO: Um, what about the guest book. I didn't see one at the entrance. I was hoping to have one so we could thank all who came to see Jason and support us...
CHARLES: Hmm..I had it here a second ago...
(Charles looks around for a second, searching for the book. He locates it on the corner of one of the end tables. After pulling a podium out of a closet, he sets the book upon there and opens it to the first page. The heading reads "The Memorial Service of Jason Marcus Lobo; The Tenth of August; 11:00 A.M." Below the heading, two names are already signed in. On the first line, below the heading, the words "Damien & Raven" are written in red ink. Not noticing it, Charles walks away from the podium to speak with Jason's parents some more. The sound of the front door being opened is heard. Charles and the Lobo couple turn to the sound. Walking down the front hallway are two figures, covered completely in black hooded robes. Not an inch of their skin can be seen. Once fully inside the room, they remove their robes and lay them on the closest chairs. Standing there before Mr. & Mrs. Lobo and Charles are Damien and Raven, their black attire easily suiting the mood for the funeral. Damien eyes Charles before inquiring of him.)
DAMIEN: Are we too late? Have we missed the service?
CHARLES: Not at all. In fact you are early. The viewing doesn't start until 11:00. It's just 10:37 right now.
DAMIEN: Oh, I'm terribly sorry for intruding then. We'll just leave and come back later.
MRS. LOBO: Oh, no, don't do that. It's not that early. (After a slight pause she continues.) Did you know my son well? I've never seen you around, Mr...
DAMIEN: Just call me "Damien". And yes, I knew your son....somewhat. (He flashes a glance at Raven and smirks.) We had an interaction of sorts with each other while myself and Raven were getting dinner one night. And there began an inseperable friendship.
MRS. LOBO: How long ago was that, if I may ask?
DAMIEN: Last Friday.
MR. LOBO: Friday? That was the day Jason was killed!
DAMIEN: Oh, yes, and did they ever find out what killed him?
MR. LOBO: No...
DAMIEN: Me...I'm the one who killed your son.
(As soon as the words exited Damien's mouth, the deadbolt on the far door, the room's only direct escape to the outside, locks on its own. The only other exit is the doorway in which Damien and Raven now stand. Damien scans the room, his eyes shifting from one corner to the next, observing everything with his supernatural, vampiric vision. He turns his head towards his fiancee.)
DAMIEN: I think it's time to change the atmosphere, don't you, baby?
(With a flick of his wrist, Damien reaches out and shuts the lights off. Then simultaneously, all of the candles in the room light up, the flames shooting up before settling back down on the wick, casting eerie, dancing shadows on the walls. Mr. & Mrs. Lobo stare at him with wide, frightened eyes. He just laughs, flashing them a look at his creul, pointed fangs. They gasp at the sight, wondering what this thing is that invades their son's funeral. Charles just stands there, eyes pointed at the floor, not looking at anything. Seemingly no emotion runs through him...no fear, no sadness, nothing. The Lobo couple backs up against the casket, trying to get as far away from the intruders as possible.)
DAMIEN: I wouldn't do that. He's a biter.
(Damien smiles as the corpse of Jason Marcus Lobo sits up in the casket, his bottom half trapped by the remainder of the closed lid. Jason reaches out and grabs the neck of his mother as she and Mr. Lobo turn to see him alive and breathing. After kicking the rest of the lid off of the black box, Jason jumps out and pretty much tackles his mother to the ground. She struggles, helplessly, to free herself, and Jason opens his mouth, revealing two sharp, lethal fangs where his normal incisors should be. He holds his mother still as he clamps his mouth down on her neck, the fangs puncturing her skin right above the main vein. He begins to drain her of her blood, her body going limp in his arms. All of this happens in a matter of seconds, and the father barely has time to react. Without thinking, he kicks hard at his own son, trying to get him off of his wife. Jason releases his grip on Mrs. Lobo and lets her lifeless body fall to the ground. His eyes slowly move so that he looks at his father. He cocks his head a little to the side as he stares at the man who helped him come into existence. The man who now stands in complete and utter fear and desperation, tears beginning to form around his eyes. Mr. Lobo turns to Charles, who remains standing still, eyes at the ground.)
MR. LOBO: Charles! Help me! What are you doing?! Don't just stand there! Do something!
(But Charles continues to stand there, not daring to move a muscle. Jason glances at Damien, who now stands with his arm around Raven's shoulders. Damien nods his head at Jason, urging him to continue. Jason turns back to his father, who clasps his hands together and slowly sinks to his knees. Tears start to run down his cheeks.)
MR. LOBO: Jason...it's me, your father. Think about what you're doing. Please, you don't need to kill me. You've already killed your mother--your own mother, Jason! Think about it! Just calm down, let me live, and I can help you. I'll do whatever you want me to...Please.
(Jason regards his father with a cold, unforgiving look in his eyes.)
JASON: You'll do whatever I want, huh? Ok, here's my request: Fuck off and die!!
(And with that, Jason lunges at his father, who is still on his knees. Jason reaches down and clutches his throat. Showing unhuman strength, he lifts his father into the air, only holding onto his neck. As the oxygen fails to make it down Mr. Lobo's windpipe, his face turns red, and then begins to turn to a shade of blue. Jason drops him to the floor, allowing his feet to hit the ground. He continues to hold him by the neck. Then, without so much as a hint of sorrow or sadness, Jason tears out the throat of the man he once called his father. A pool of blood adorns the carpet as Jason's father falls to the floor facedown, already dead. A thin, almost untracable smile can be seen on Jason's face, but only for a second. Damien walks up and pats him on the shoulder.)
DAMIEN: Well, you've had your first taste of blood...how do you feel?
JASON: Great! I've never felt more energized, revitalized!
DAMIEN: Good, because, as I told you last night, that's your only hope for survival...at least, healthy survival. (He turns to Charles, who remains looking at the ground, frozen as if he were a statue.) So, Mr. Charles Lee...it seems that you kept your end of the bargain. You gave us Mr. & Mrs. Lobo. You kept Jason here safe. So, you get to live. (He leans in close, raising Charles' head so they looking in each other's eyes.) But Charley, as I told you before, if you breath so much as one word of this incident to anyone, and I mean anyone, then you will suffer the consequences. And believe me, they will not be so lenient and merciful as what happened to Mr. & Mrs. Lobo here. Understand me?
(Charles nods his head in agreement.)
DAMIEN: I can't hear you, Charley...
CHARLES: Yes, sir.
DAMIEN: That's more like it. Now, have fun cleaning up this little mess, and enjoy the few years that you've got left in your pitiful human existence.
(Damien walks over to Raven and takes her hand.)
DAMIEN: Ready, babe? (She responds affirmatively.) Lobo...you ready?
(Jason Marcus Lobo, now in his first full day of being a vampire, walks up beside the couple.)
LOBO: Yeah, I'm ready, but how are we gonna get out of here? And how did you get here in the first place? The sun's shining like none other out there!
DAMIEN: That's why you've got to have a friend who can walk in the sun. In this case, it's Raven's brother, Minion. He's our daywalker, so-to-speak. I'm going to introduce him to the Clan when I introduce you.
LOBO: The Clan? Who's that?
DAMIEN: I'll explain in the van. Let's go. Quickly.
(Damien grabs the robes and the three make their way to the front entrance of the funeral home. Damien pushes open the big door and they see a black utility van with the back doors open, Minion standing by it. Luckilly, the back section of the van has no windows, so no light gets in once the doors are closed. Damien tosses a robe to Lobo, and he spreads the remaining one over himself and Raven. With supernatural speed, Damien and Raven run from the doorway and jump in the back of the van, shielding themselves from the fatal sunlight. Lobo throws the robe over himself and dashes into the van with them. Minion shuts the door and takes his position at the driver's seat. Minion yells back through the metal between the storage area of the van (where the vampires are) and the cab section.)
MINION: So, where to, Damien?
DAMIEN: Home, James.
MINION: (with a chuckle) Shut up, man.
DAMIEN: Take us to the Nightmare's mansion. We'll stay there for the rest of the day and then meet up with the Clan tonight.
MINION: All right. Nightmare's mansion it is.
(The van speeds off as the vampires all try and catch up on their much-needed sleep.)