The characters and plot of Underworld do not belong to me. I am not receiving any profit for this writing. If you are the copyright holders, merely e-mail me before filing a lawsuit, and I will cease and desist at once.
The story. If I do not clarify things in it, or details, ask in the review, or click on my profile and send me a message.
I changed it to be more like Underworld while keeping the plot I made. many thanks toShadowsHaveOffended, andZELINIAfor being my first reviers, and being positive.
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The war had raged for over two centuries. We knew that much. Warring lycan packs and vampire covens slaughtered each other almost on sight. They thought they were invisible. They thought wrong. We watched from the shadows as the monsters of the night battled We had know for eighty years of their existence. Whenever a vampire grew too thirsty for human blood, or a lycan saw us people only as walking meals, we hunted them down and killed them off. We defended the innocent… we died so they would notlive in terror of the full moon, or the night itself.
I am a guardian. One of the best. Yet my abilities came at a price. I had been bitten, by a vampire, six years ago. I followed Parabellum's protocol, made for secrecy, and tracked the monster down and killed it, despite that I was wounded, sick. We knew the cure for their bites. A red-hot iron pressed to the wound after it was washed with holy water. I did not come in for the cure until after I killed the vampire. Two days after I was bit. For months I wondered just how much the cure had purged me… Had I become the thing I beheld as a monster?
Then three years later, while impersonating a vampire on a spy mission, two lycans scented me from my spot and mauled me. I barely escaped breathing. The cure too lycans bites was much more complex than vampire bites.. For six days I lay, near death, as the medicine battled the virus… The bites gave me inhuman fighting ability. I became the best guardian quickly. But I knew, eventually I would pay a price for my carelessness those years ago.
The lycans are on the prowl again. There has been a string of murders; four victims, found drained of blood, with needle marks in the neck. I and my partner shadowed some lycans for weeks; I can sense the vampires nearing. The deep breath before the plunge.
We guardians can blend into a crowd, if needed. Impersonate a vampire or lycan. Or merely become shadows, in a dark room.
My name is Orithian.
The rain came down, drizzling, and very cold. The Hungarian night was extremely bitter, worse than Chicago. Orithian hurried along, dressed in a black coat, following a lycan. Two, actually. They stood out like beacons in the crowd. Unlike everyone else, they didn't seem to care about the rain, and they did not walk hunched, or dash. It took the guardian only a minute to realize who was being tailed. A young man, probably 25-35, wearing a sweatshirt with a hood over his head. They were headed for the subway. The guardian's green eyes flicked towards his partner, who was keeping ahead of them. Whatever the lycans want with him, we'll soon find out, he thought. He followed a good twenty paces behind the lycans, trying to stay out of their sharp sense of smell. He trotted down the stairs. Turing the corner, he felt it like a shocking wave. Vampires were nearby. Two, perhaps three. He surveyed the crowd, and picked one out instantly. A young man, extremely pale, thin, dressed like a death dealer. That couldn't be all. They almost never traveled alone, not the death dealers, not when tacking lycans. Another? A young woman, dressed entirely in black leather. Her skin was pale, nearly pure white, a sign of being a vampire. Then Orithian's attention shifted back to the lycans' mark. The man was heading for the train doors. The lycans followed. The man slowed, looking at the female vampire. She returned his gaze for a moment, then slunk against a pillar. Orithian, stopped, wondering for a moment if it was a set up. Probably not; the vampire female was pretty beautiful, the mark a normal young man. The mark glanced at the train, and continued to it. The lycans started showing people out of the way, heading straight for the man. This will be a picnic. A crowd, lycans, and vampires. Orithian reached for his gun, his heart picking up as he anticipated the fight. Suddenly the big black lycan stopped dead in his tracks, turned around. Orithian tensed, thinking he had been scented, despite the rain and crowd. The lycan locked eyes with the male vampire.
"Blood!" the lycan bellowed. He reached into his coat. Orithian ducked behind cover, watching. This was a lycan-vampire fight, he was not to become part of it.The lycan was using stery tmps, machine guns not much larger than a pistol, but much more devastating weapons. A woman suddenly was hit in the shoulder, and the lycan's mark rushed out, dragged the woman to cover, and started treating the wound. Orithian's partner, at the other end of the station, scrambled behind a pillar. The two vampires returned the lycan's fire, who was simply unloading dozens of bullets in their general direction. The smaller lycan suddenly drew a pistol, and managed to flank the vampires. He shot the man twice before the woman got off a shot at the lycan and made him retreat. Orithian saw the vampire collapse to the ground. Why are the bullets affecting him so? Orithian wondered. The vampire opened his mouth, crying out in agony as he burned in mere seconds, to ashes. The woman stepped out from behind the cover, dual-wielding berretas. She bravely advanced, firing rapidly, then ducking back to reload. Orithian saw the scrawny lycan making his way towards the mark. The guardian withdrew his weapon as well, a large, extremely powerful magnum, basically a hand cannon. The lycan grabbed the man's shoulder, just as Orithian fired once, shooting to kill. There a blast, then the huge silver round knocked the lycan backward like a physical blow, barely missing his heart. The lycan retreated, and ducked into the train. They will never learn, vampires or lycans, Orithian thought as he watched the battle continue. Never leave home without a bulletproof vest. The woman death dealer turned to look at him, hearing a shot. He put his back to the pillar, keeping her from seeing his face.
Suddenly another gun spurted. Another death dealer approached, blasting away with his small pistol, driving the big lycan into the train, who had apparently spent all his ammo. The small lycan ran off in one direction. The female death dealer snatched the dead vampire's camera, and pursued. The other vampire charged the big lycan, who was running parallel to the train. Orithian watched as the vampire impressively leapt through the rear window of the train, into the darkness. Good luck, Orithian thought sarcastically. Orithian picked up the shell his pistol had ejected as it fired. His partner, a man nicknamed Hoot, walked up. He bent over, picked up the dead vampire's gun, and removed a single bullet from the magazine before placing the round in his pocket and putting the gun back the way it was. He was wearing leather gloves; no fingerprints would be left.
Without speaking, both men walked off, vanishing into the darkness. Hoot had stealthily taken plenty of pictures. The mark was safe for the moment, the lycans gone. Police sirens sounded, as they grew closer. But by the time they arrived, the body was gone, all the combatants disappeared as well.
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