My vampire

In this moment of pure animal desperation, all you can think of, all you want in the world is to brush your lips against hers and banish the eternal cold of un-death, even if only for a fraction of a second, to relive some of what has been lost, to heal your mind as well as your body. This unearthly desire proves too great to resist, and you draw forward, embracing your lover and pulling her close. She struggles at first, but eventually yields to your touch, a deep groan of pleasure on her lips. The feeling is euphoric.

Hot tears stream down your cheeks and your chest constricts with gut-wrenching emotion as your embrace spans what feels like hours of pure bliss. And then there is pain. You're able to ignore it at first, but it returns with a vengeance as your lover is torn from your arms, a sad smile etched on her lips.

"No!" the word rips its way out from the bottom of your black and shriveled lungs. "Not again!" Your eyes shift to the demon pulling your lover away, and you recognize yourself in its face once again. Not as you once were, but as you are now-soul twisted and shriveled, a gaping maw with protruding fangs. You leap forward, ripping your doppelganger away from his prey before plunging your teeth into his neck. "Not...ever...again!" you grunt against his flesh, crimson bubbles flowering at the edges of your mouth as you scream defiance even while you drain your personal demon dry. When at last he breathes no more, you fall back, triumphant exultation fading as your body finishes knitting itself together again. Reality settles around you again, and you feel a biting sting of dread as you turn to take in the true scene.

The mutilated body of a young man lies sprawled on the ground, his neck torn open and hanging at an unnatural angle, expression locked in sheer terror and disbelief. He's tightly grasping the hand of a young woman-he'd somehow held on even as you drained the life from his body. Unlike her partner, the young woman has yet to succumb to oblivion-irregular breathing causes her chest to rise and fall and her eyes drift listlessly until they alight on you, your lips and chin slathered in a mix of blood from both your victims. She tries to scream, but finds herself unable to summon the necessary breath, and all that comes from her lips is the pitiful squeak of a prey animal. She's dying. She knows it. You know it.

"I don't want to die here," she rasps, her knuckles going white as she clutches her dead partner's hand.

Your head is spinning as you sink to your knees before the woman, unable to banish the vision of your lover's face. Her expression of betrayal was not at all dissimilar to the gaze of this young woman, soft eyes searching for answers and wondering why-how you could have done such a thing.

"Please," she whimpers.

You turn away from your victim and and start toward the factory once again, your bloodlust sated now that your body is fully mended. The disturbing memory the woman had conjured within you is already fading into background noise out of necessity-you have to return to the fight.

"No!" the woman cries desperately from behind you. "You can't just leave me here!"

"I won't harm you further," you state flatly.

"It hurts!" she howls. "Please!"

You stop for a moment, wracked with indecision before continuing to the factory. "You'll feel nothing soon enough," you say, not entirely unkindly. "Make your peace and then join your companion in the afterlife."

She's silent then, though whether due to blood loss or accepting the inevitable, you cannot say.

Next

Your newly mended legs carry you over the stony grit with remarkable strength, your renewed sense of vigor immediately apparent as you tread uneven terrain. The crashing churn of the nearby dam might largely mask the sound of gunfire if you didn't know to listen, but sporadic bursts indicate that the battle is still in full swing. You round a large pile of dirt, approaching the building from the rear when you hear a guttural shout of warning from within.

The factory abruptly explodes in a fiery conflagration, showering you in an avalanche of brick, wood, and concrete debris. You stand still for a moment, stunned and rooted to the spot before your bestial vampiric instincts overwhelm you and you flee the fire heedless of other, more mundane concerns. It takes several minutes for you to wrest control back and turn yourself around; you grind your teeth as you force your feet to carry you back toward the demolished building, your unnaturally strong aversion to flames screaming in the back of your mind. The air itself smells burnt, and your eyes sting from the clouds of disturbed dust.

That maniac Ward must have rigged the place to blow. The shock wears off when you see that the flames have already burned out-the majority of the building was built of metal and brick-and you try not to cringe as you wade into the wreckage, gun held at the ready. Someone in your group must have survived; they can't all be destroyed.

You pass by the twisted and burned remains of several mortal mercenaries, and as time goes by you begin to wonder if any of your companions made it out. The scent of charred flesh and burnt hair are overwhelming as you catch sight of movement through the haze of smoke. You duck low, advancing defensively until you can make out two figures ahead of you, locked in combat. Through their grunts and brief vocalizations you're certain that one of them is Qui, but you can't be sure which is which without getting closer.

You examine both brawlers through the haze of smoke as you run toward them and make a snap judgment. The stance, the growling-you're certain that the one on the left is one of the Ferals you saw fighting earlier and therefore your enemy. You leap into the fray and narrowly duck a wildly-swinging claw. To your right, Qui emerges, bloodied as ever.

"Help me or get out of the way, Chasan!"

Qui is a marvel to watch in combat, and within seconds you can tell exactly why Prince Arundel chose him as the city's Sheriff. As you draw the animal-like Kindred's attention with your sudden appearance, Qui fades to the vampire's side, just out of his peripheral vision before grabbing its arm and dragging it backward, tripping it over his extended leg. Without releasing his opponent's arm, Qui brings a meaty fist down against the wrist, audibly shattering bones. The deadly claw hangs useless and the pathetic creature howls in agony as Qui repeats the process on his other arm in the time it takes you to blink.

"Grab the chain from my pack," Qui calls over to you as he restrains the wounded Anarch. "Quickly now! The Gangrel will mend soon enough!"

You rush over and fumble with the pack's straps, bringing forth a heavy set of chains. "Why the chains?" you ask. "Didn't you say you wanted to finish them all?" You hand the chain to Qui, bemused by his change of heart.

The Sheriff wraps the Gangrel's arms behind his back with practiced precision, even as the cracked bones begin to pull themselves back together. "I'm not doing him any favors," Qui says, shoving his prisoner to the floor. "Down, boy!" he yells, pulling the chain earthward with an inhumanly strong whip-crack, snapping several more bones as the restraint constricts. Qui stares down at him. "No moving until we tell you to." Now that the prisoner is bound, the Sheriff gives you an appraising look. "It looks like you're tougher than I thought, Chasan. Ward hit you like a damned truck."

"It's good to see you too, Sheriff."

Next