*** Disclaimer - I do not own the movie or book or rights Underworld. My
writing is for fun and enjoyment. ***
It was dark, very dark. To any normal person, it was night. The time of night that made the poorly developed eyes of a human see only black and made them resort to the use of a pathetic little tool that produced false light; the tool also provided a false sense of security. For the night wasn't made for the human - it was made for the ones who walked the darkness - who walked the night. The vampiric ones - these were the species that owned the streets during the hours of midnight dreary. They walked among the humans that were considered nothing more than sustenance for these creatures. However, as ruthless as the vampires seem, they weren't without justification. They aren't alive - they aren't born with the civil liberties the humans owned.
"Then again, we weren't born we were created and that is by no fault of our own".
These were the thoughts that plagued Korbin every night. Tonight, just like the others, as he stayed watched perched on a scaffold above the world below, he thought of the "justifications" he spoke to himself of. Were there really any? He was a vampire, condemned to the darkness and purged and christened by the sunlight. He watched as the thousands of people walked the streets. All ignorant and unaware of the dangers that shadowed them, Korbin knew they were only useful for one thing. They were food. So, he and his fellow vampires hunted them like food; similar to how a predator hunts its prey.
"There is definitely justification for our killings of the humans, we have to eat, and we have to survive. According to Darwin, that is the unconscious goal of every species."
Korbin's thoughts were interrupted by the sudden discharge of a gun and the screams and chaos of a frightened crowd below. He leaned forward, squinting his eyes, and looking for the source of the disturbance. There. He pinpointed the catalyst of the drama. A man was running, screaming, and blathering about someone or something that was trying to kill him but he wasn't holding a gun, so where did the shot come from? Korbin let his gaze remain stationary as the man passed but he saw no signs of someone following him; so he looked to the dark alley the mad had darted out of. Finally, Korbin saw his evidence and the man's attacker. Red eyes lurked from the shadows and Korbin's advanced hearing could pick up the vibrations of the growl that immersed from the creatures throat. Korbin almost felt afraid for a moment before his adrenaline kicked in and he felt his blood boil. He looked down at the ground that was nearly 70 feet below him. It was a long drop and would kill any normal human being.
Than again, Korbin wasn't normal and he certainly wasn't human. He ran, through the crowd of terrified people towards the darkened alley.
Korbin's senses were running wild, his hearing could pick up the footsteps of his prey - they were quick but heavy and sloppy, splashing through the puddles of backed sewer water. His blue eyes could see the shadow of something less than human as well - its bulk, the size of a small car and its length that of a giant. Korbin wondered if this was a living creature or a freight train he was chasing. He ran faster and faster becoming almost a blur to the human eye. Korbin skidded to a halt though, as the dark alley fed into a dead end. Trashcans lined the sides, their contents spewing out of their tops and onto the ground. The lamps hanging about the doorways of the abandoned buildings shown dimly, casting shadows of deception everywhere. Korbin pulled out his H2 - K 9mm, checked the clip, and then cocked the chamber. His eyes darted back and forth as he approached the brick wall that formed the dead end. The beast was still close, its scent was strong and its fear could be heard in the quickened beat of its heart.
"Here, Fido," Korbin taunted quietly in frustration, wishing the fight was already over.
A shadow passed, Korbin turned, but nothing happened. He heard the sickening sound of the creature's lips smacking together behind him and then the small lamps, one by one, suddenly flickered and died. Korbin had no sooner turned and fired once before the thing tackled him to the wet ground. Korbin looked up and finally saw it had been a lycan he had chased. The werewolf was massive and hairy, its drool ran from its open mouth that was inches from Korbin's face and his eyes started to water as the stench from the lycan's breath beat down on him. Its claws sank through Korbin's black, leather armor and into his cold flesh. He felt his blood run and the pain that shot through his body. The lycan had made its fatal mistake - it had made Korbin angry.
Korbin kicked outward, his hard, black army boots ramming into the lycan's chest. The lycan's claws were torn out of Korbin's chest as it flew backwards and barreled into some of the trashcans. Korbin pushed himself up and fired off more shots at the lycan. Out of the 6 shots he fired only 3 struck the lycan as it clambered up the walls trying to flee. Korbin ran in pursuit, sprung off a trashcan, and landed on top of the brick wall where the lycan was now crouched. Korbin knew he only had one shot left and unless it was put between the lycan's eyes he could be ripped to shreds.
The lycan charged. Korbin charged. Both forces slammed into each other and tumbled towards the ground. The lycan smashed head first into the pavement and lay motionless but Korbin landed feet first a short distance away. Korbin reloaded his gun as he slowly walked over to the fallen body. He placed his heavy boot on the lycan's neck and heard a low growl. He pressed the cold, steel gun to the beast's forehead and pulled the trigger. Blood splattered across the ground and then flowed down the street like rain running off the ground. Korbin holstered his gun and turned from the corpse, walking out of the alley.
"That," he thought, "is all the justification I can take for tonight."
It was dark, very dark. To any normal person, it was night. The time of night that made the poorly developed eyes of a human see only black and made them resort to the use of a pathetic little tool that produced false light; the tool also provided a false sense of security. For the night wasn't made for the human - it was made for the ones who walked the darkness - who walked the night. The vampiric ones - these were the species that owned the streets during the hours of midnight dreary. They walked among the humans that were considered nothing more than sustenance for these creatures. However, as ruthless as the vampires seem, they weren't without justification. They aren't alive - they aren't born with the civil liberties the humans owned.
"Then again, we weren't born we were created and that is by no fault of our own".
These were the thoughts that plagued Korbin every night. Tonight, just like the others, as he stayed watched perched on a scaffold above the world below, he thought of the "justifications" he spoke to himself of. Were there really any? He was a vampire, condemned to the darkness and purged and christened by the sunlight. He watched as the thousands of people walked the streets. All ignorant and unaware of the dangers that shadowed them, Korbin knew they were only useful for one thing. They were food. So, he and his fellow vampires hunted them like food; similar to how a predator hunts its prey.
"There is definitely justification for our killings of the humans, we have to eat, and we have to survive. According to Darwin, that is the unconscious goal of every species."
Korbin's thoughts were interrupted by the sudden discharge of a gun and the screams and chaos of a frightened crowd below. He leaned forward, squinting his eyes, and looking for the source of the disturbance. There. He pinpointed the catalyst of the drama. A man was running, screaming, and blathering about someone or something that was trying to kill him but he wasn't holding a gun, so where did the shot come from? Korbin let his gaze remain stationary as the man passed but he saw no signs of someone following him; so he looked to the dark alley the mad had darted out of. Finally, Korbin saw his evidence and the man's attacker. Red eyes lurked from the shadows and Korbin's advanced hearing could pick up the vibrations of the growl that immersed from the creatures throat. Korbin almost felt afraid for a moment before his adrenaline kicked in and he felt his blood boil. He looked down at the ground that was nearly 70 feet below him. It was a long drop and would kill any normal human being.
Than again, Korbin wasn't normal and he certainly wasn't human. He ran, through the crowd of terrified people towards the darkened alley.
Korbin's senses were running wild, his hearing could pick up the footsteps of his prey - they were quick but heavy and sloppy, splashing through the puddles of backed sewer water. His blue eyes could see the shadow of something less than human as well - its bulk, the size of a small car and its length that of a giant. Korbin wondered if this was a living creature or a freight train he was chasing. He ran faster and faster becoming almost a blur to the human eye. Korbin skidded to a halt though, as the dark alley fed into a dead end. Trashcans lined the sides, their contents spewing out of their tops and onto the ground. The lamps hanging about the doorways of the abandoned buildings shown dimly, casting shadows of deception everywhere. Korbin pulled out his H2 - K 9mm, checked the clip, and then cocked the chamber. His eyes darted back and forth as he approached the brick wall that formed the dead end. The beast was still close, its scent was strong and its fear could be heard in the quickened beat of its heart.
"Here, Fido," Korbin taunted quietly in frustration, wishing the fight was already over.
A shadow passed, Korbin turned, but nothing happened. He heard the sickening sound of the creature's lips smacking together behind him and then the small lamps, one by one, suddenly flickered and died. Korbin had no sooner turned and fired once before the thing tackled him to the wet ground. Korbin looked up and finally saw it had been a lycan he had chased. The werewolf was massive and hairy, its drool ran from its open mouth that was inches from Korbin's face and his eyes started to water as the stench from the lycan's breath beat down on him. Its claws sank through Korbin's black, leather armor and into his cold flesh. He felt his blood run and the pain that shot through his body. The lycan had made its fatal mistake - it had made Korbin angry.
Korbin kicked outward, his hard, black army boots ramming into the lycan's chest. The lycan's claws were torn out of Korbin's chest as it flew backwards and barreled into some of the trashcans. Korbin pushed himself up and fired off more shots at the lycan. Out of the 6 shots he fired only 3 struck the lycan as it clambered up the walls trying to flee. Korbin ran in pursuit, sprung off a trashcan, and landed on top of the brick wall where the lycan was now crouched. Korbin knew he only had one shot left and unless it was put between the lycan's eyes he could be ripped to shreds.
The lycan charged. Korbin charged. Both forces slammed into each other and tumbled towards the ground. The lycan smashed head first into the pavement and lay motionless but Korbin landed feet first a short distance away. Korbin reloaded his gun as he slowly walked over to the fallen body. He placed his heavy boot on the lycan's neck and heard a low growl. He pressed the cold, steel gun to the beast's forehead and pulled the trigger. Blood splattered across the ground and then flowed down the street like rain running off the ground. Korbin holstered his gun and turned from the corpse, walking out of the alley.
"That," he thought, "is all the justification I can take for tonight."