| "Dark Rising" |
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Salem, Massachusetts. A cold dark town with a dark history. It's late fall (early winter), and the frost from Trevor McNiles breath billows like the steam of a locomotive. He reaches deep into his pocket, pulls out a small 3" x 4 1/2" steel box. It is painful to touch in the 14 below zero chill outside. He opens it numbly, pulls a Marlboro cigarette from it and closes the box. He taps the open end of the cigarette on the metal box nervously. He places it in his mouth, cupping from the slight breeze with his left hand and lighting the cigarette with his other hand. He closes his eyes as he inhales the smoke and releases it into the cold. The smoke turning red reflecting the bright neon sign reading "O'Connors Tavern." The door to the furniture shop across the street opens briefly to allow a couple to exit the building. Trevor reached in his other pocket and slightly reveiled a small digital camera. The camera clicked a few times and Trevor went on his way. "If I wasn't so sure he'd come through with the money," muttered Trevor, "I sure as hell wouldn't be here..."
He hated it, but soon grew to love the different styles, the punks, the emo’s…he founds himself attracted to one group more than most…mainly because of a girl he had taken a liking too, and he was positive she liked him, but having been sheltered so long, he wasn’t sure how to approach her. Everyone left her kind alone, no one wanted to mix with the Gothic group. He started to dabble in things he had never done before…he started listening to new and different bands, bands like Nightwish, Lacuna Coil, Sirenia and the music of the Midnight Syndicate soon filled his CD cabinet. His looks and personality slowly, morphed. His hair which he hadn’t bothered to, as his father would have put it, groomed, was now down to his shoulders, black, with red streaks down the fringe which overlaps his right eye, washed, but still messy. But he liked it… Meeting his first girlfriend happened just like that. It happened on a cold November night, he had hit one of the local bars, but his appearance these days was sadly drawing stupid, unwanted attention, and a few insults later, he had vacated that spot and was making his way home, when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned to see that girl there, just standing. No jacket, soaked through and shivering. Looking frightened, of what he wasn’t sure. He didn’t think about it, but pulled his jacket off and through it around her, he was soon soaked, but the small smile he got from her warmed him up. As she gazed up into his blue eyes she thanked him, and explained she had been out at the same club he had just left, when some guys had tried to come onto her, and she left, in a hurry. He agreed to walk her back home, until they were set upon by the same thugs from the nightclub. Serge was considered very tall, but at 5’9 and of a pretty good build he could hold his own. One scuffle later, and sporting a black eye, Serge and Nicole returned to Serge’s flat. There had been a police patrol come around, so the thugs had legged it, leaving Serge to look after Nicole, which was fine with him, her clothes had been torn, and if the police hadn’t been there, who knows what could of happened. Though he knew…and just didn’t want to talk about it. Everything just followed on from there, and at the age of nineteen, he had conquered the first real challenge, and scored himself a girlfriend. But it wasn’t to last, good things never do…
He picked up the heavy knocker and attempted to knock on the large wooden door, but the wood was so old that the iron knocker simply crashed to the ground with the door. The hinges had rusted so bad and became so brittle that the slightest breeze from the inside may have caused the collapse as well. Trevor stood in the wake of the gaping hole where one of the doors had just been and called out inside for his promising client. "Mr. Anubi? It's McNiles... the PI you hired?" "Ah... yes..." a near hissing sound came from the thick darkness. A silouette appeared from behind the partial pulpit. "Yeah, I got the pictures of the girl, gotta admit she's a bit of a looker... so, what is she to you anyhow? Girlfriend? Sister? Mother? Wife?" "In my dreams I keep hearing her voice. I know she's gone, but it feels so real. When I wake I realize I never actually met her, but somehow I know her." Mr. Anubi said lost in thought.
Trevor looked at him sideways for a moment and lit up another cigarette. He was silently intruiged by this client. He seemed so shady... Trevor just couldn't seem to read this guy, and he was known for that specific talent. One of the main reasons so little is known of him, the Tzmisce are secretive. Violent, deadly, smart, but secret. No one is truly sure why he chose to sire Serge, but he did. Maybe he felt sympathetic, or perhaps he felt the boiling blood deep within him. But whatever it was, he wanted it for his own. So he hatched a plan… He called one of the local gangrel over…and devised a plan that would dispose of any links Serge may have to the real world, and place a little blame on the Camarilla. Shame this Gangrel was an antitribu, though Serge didn’t know that. After watching Serge for sometime, Jacob put his plan into action. Serge and Nicole walked back from a gig in one of the underground clubs, when the noise started they were already in the middle of the nowhere, buildings loomed all around, and side alleys branched of into the oblivious night. Scuffling, sniffing. As if, as if they were being tracked by some sort of animal. The first whispers came from Nicole, and Serge attempted to reassure her, but how could he, not when he was trying to reassure himself. Another alley, a sound and Serge looked to the left, and looked back at a tugging, Nicole was gone, her muffled screams could just be heard up an alleyway, without thought, Serge lurched forward and up, round the corner and into a sight that… he never wished to behold again. By the throat she was held, suspended high, as a wild figure, his lips to her neck seemed to be drinking, Serge shouted but the figure ignored. Serge threw a brick, the figure turned and blood could be seen flowing freely down Nicole’s neck. The thing whatever it was, dropped her now lifeless body, and started towards Serge. Step by step it moved closer, nearly there until a figure came running up the alley, what appeared to be a sword in his hand…no the hand seemed to be the sword but how. One swing and the figured sword parted the assailants head, and the body crumbled and then burned away to ash. Serge stood there shocked, stunned not moving. Then started when the saviours hand/sword became normal. He looked wide eyes at the figure, then his attention turned to Nicole’s limp body, he started towards her, till voice told him to stop, it was too late. Nothing he could do now. He was pulled away, pulled into the night, back to a small flat that existed below ground level. He was sat down and offered a drink, he took it and downed it in one, still not having spoke. The minutes passed, and then he started to ask why, he was interrupted. He was told, that his girlfriend had been killed by a vampire, and that he himself was a vampire. Serge scoffed. But the seriousness in the mans eyes stopped him. He was told, about the vampires, there clans, the sects. He was told the vampire was of the Gangrel Bloodline, and that he had belonged to a group called the Camarilla. An evil vampire group hell bent on wiping out the human race. Serge was too shocked to speak as the man talked. He was told the man was a Tzmisce, a flesh carver. When Serge started, he was told that the abilities were only used to help mend and protect. He was told. If he wished, he desired these powers could be his. He could stop tragedies happening like they did to Nicole, Serge felt hazy...the drink perhaps, but he agreed. He was drained, then fed the blood. He felt nothing, and the only pain came when his vitals organs were flushed from his body…it was the end of his life, his dreams, everything…he soon realized what this old Vampire had told him was lie, but he didn’t care. He still believed the Camarilla to be responsible for the death of Nicole, and he hated Gangrels with a vengeance…he learned over the next two years about history of the clan, the sabbat. Everything he needed to know he learned. He then turned to his abilities, he found he could control them expertly, but his dreams were another matter all together. In his dreams he could hear a woman’s voice and somehow he felt she had perished, but the voice was so real! When he awoke he realized he had never actually met her. It was not Nicole as he had wished… somehow he knew her…in his blood. Through Jacob maybe? He only remembered the voice calling to him and he felt a drawing to America. He resolved he would follow this pull, it may benefit him somehow. There was always the chance for a new life, new possibilities, and a new start.
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