I've found myself fascinated and enamored with Nikola Tesla and felt the need to start this story. It's turning out to be rather short, but it is an introspective character study rather than plot driven piece. I hope you enjoy it! :)
I, like all writers, would love your feedback!! :D Reviewers will be given big Tesla hugs and kisses!
(Sadly, as you all know, neither Nikola-the-scientist nor Nikola-the-vampire belongs to me.)
It wasn't as if he had done anything wrong. On the contrary, he had given those Cabal agents a chance to be a part of something phenomenal, more important than they could have ever imagined. Their insignificant mortal existence had been destroyed so easily, snuffed out like a candle in a howling storm. But he had brought them back to life, even if it had left them unintelligible and brain dead. Better to blindly follow him, to change to world, than to lie decomposing, lost forever in the depths of a Roman catacomb. He had thought it was a good plan; sure, it was no alternating current, but it bore his typical hallmark of genius, was positively reeking of it. No, it had not been his best plan, but who could have guessed it would go so horribly wrong?
From his thoroughly undignified position- flat on his back on the cold dirt floor- Nikola Tesla glared into the darkness as he sniffed haughtily and dusted off his suit jacket. Who could have predicted that that simple, shiny-headed murderer would show up in the nick of time, to steal his Helen from him yet again? It made no sense. John Druitt, he practically spat, the name sticking in his throat like acerbic bile. What could she possibly see in him? Sure the man was tall, strong, and clearly knew how to make an entrance, but he was weak. So disgustingly weak. He squandered his abilities and talents like so many cheap parlor tricks. Nikola, on the other hand, had style, ambition. Under his watchful eye, the world's most intelligent, most powerful race could once again be restored to its former glory, forever occluding the pinnacle of mere human achievement from here to eternity.
This was just the start. Druitt had no idea what he was up against. If he thought a fist through the gut, extraordinary painful though it may be, could stop Nikola Tesla, he was sorely mistaken.
He could already feel his strength slowly returning to him; the pulsing life force that had trickled over the pressed fabric of his already ruined suit and mingled with the dank, russet sediment on the catacomb floor was becoming a mere annoyance. Though still weak and injured- a drill through the chest, three bullet holes, and a gaping abdomen wound could do that to a person, even one who possessed his unique abilities- Nikola pushed himself up off the floor, clutching at his tattered garments. With a slight, keening groan of pain, barely audible through clenched teeth, he placed a supporting hand on the wall and started to limp down the corridor.
Stopping to rest only when it proved absolutely necessary, he trudged his way down passageway after passageway. He tried to ignore the way his limbs felt numb and heavy and the tunnels spun languidly around him. He briefly closed his eyes and brushed chilling sweat off his already pallid skin. As much as he hated feeling weak and helpless, he smiled smugly to himself for he knew it would not last long. Though it would take him quite some time to recover from this particular injury, before long he would be back at full strength, more determined than ever to see his ancestors reborn.
In the meantime he would need to feed, he would need to rest, but, most importantly, he would need to plan. Nikola Tesla squared his shoulders, gritted his teeth against the pain, and slunk off into the darkness, preparing to lick his wounds and bide his time, waiting for the moment when he could once again show the world what true genius was.