Chapter 1: Things Change…

A sleek black car parked near the entrance to a local restaurant, round headlights catching two men like frightened deer. Its driver side door opened, and a thin man exited its dark frame and casually approached them.

Both stood inches above him, and with full hearted smiles openly threw false hostility towards each other.

Laughing as they entered they sat down at the bar and ordered impatiently. After a few minutes of conversating on the topic of comedy their drinks arrived and the tall and equally larger one, Bob, rose slightly to dramatically propose a toast.

"Lets congratulate Mark on his one thousand subscribers, dude I cant belive it!"

The slimmer one also nodded and rose his glass in the center of the three. Their cups clinked and they threw back their heads taking a largely appreciated drink.

"Thanks guys, you really didnt have to." Mark said, smiling coyly with an open laugh. Suddenly the other thin man, Wade, flicked Mark's glasses in a joking manner.

"Seriously?" He said, his voice taking on the tone of someone who had just enough of his friend's crap.

An hour or so past as they devoured steak, fries, and combinations of any other bar food they could get their hands on.

Unfortunately, the night passed them quickly by, coming to an end.

The cold Cincinnati breeze blanketed Mark's face as he stepped out from the bar. He hugged his two companions as they departed and gave Wade one last push to agitate him. He said his goodbyes and walked back over to his car.

What he heard was a whisper at first, a low crackling static that seemed to emanate from a hoarse throat. Mark looked up as he heard it again.

"Hey!" A small man shot up from a bench against the building, and waved energetically at him. At first Mark was hesitant. A strange man trying to get your attention? Anyone would be suspicious.

Then a thought fluttered through his mind, canceling out the other completely. Maybe he was a fan. One of the thousand people that actually wanted to know if he was going to upload again. He turned towards the man and began to walk over, his curiosity igniting anticipation through his body. The man stepped back a few inches as Mark approached deeper into the alleyway behind them.

"Yes..?" Mark's voice echoed slightly as he stepped once more only to begin retreating in shock after he assessed the situation in his mind fully. Hunched in the entrance of the alleyway the man stood beneath the silhouettes of the street lights, just out of clear perspective. This shadowed man who had seconds ago sounded friendly, smiled crookedly.

A flash, and the man had grabbed Mark forcing him backwards into the shadowed alleyway. As the man held him in place against the wall by his neck with one hand, the YouTuber began struggling and flailing blindly at him trying to hit something, anything, to get him release his iron grip.

His attacker's nail's dug into Mark's neck, cutting off any sound that tried desperately to escape. This sociopath had a smile plastered on his face, a smile that seemed to be carved of stone - and never changing. Mark's blurred gaze caught sight of jagged uncleaned canines, each at least an inch long. Relief, desperation, and inhuman lust plagued the assailants expression as they shakily moved closer to Mark's exposed skin. The man seemed impatient, making his work sloppy. It was as if it was the first time he had to do such dirty work on his own, like his attacker had just arrived from the womb.

The YouTuber let out a cry as the man's teeth connected with skin, puncturing deep into his flesh. The man growled, trying again in a new spot. Unable to locate a fresh and thriving vein in his neck he angrily threw Mark down on the concrete staring him dead in the eyes. He wrapped his hands around his head and got ready to break Marks neck in one move. Close to losing consciousness, he felt his whole essence fade and saw only white as he closed his eyes.

Suddenly, all of the weight of the man was thrown away from him - and he breathed in deep heavy breaths, to afraid to move. He glanced over to see the man's face to his right blown to pieces, bleeding on the concrete. His expression, if you could piece together one from what was left, was of pure shock.

Almost immediately he saw the light whiteness blur again but this time from a flashlight. A local police officer threw commands into his walkie talkie as he hovered over Mark, assessing his injuries. Aside from a most likely sprained neck, he had cuts, scrapes and a broken rib from the impact to the ground. All this along with many small orbital puncture wounds, where the man tried over and over to pierce Marks jugular - luckily missing by less than an inch. He was beaten and bloody, but alive - and mostly confused.

Today was a celebration, not a day to get mugged and brutally assaulted. He had just hit one thousand subscribers on his YouTube channel.

He let his head clear and closed his exhausted eyes listening to the police man calm and reassure him. The officer that saved him had helped him up, and was now also helping him recollect himself.

However, Mark was beginning to feel a new kind of sick.

The world was spinning. It was moving side to side, up and down. It was like it was tottering endlessly. It was never going to stop, was it? The churning of its new waves prompted his stomach to empty. He leaned over and puked up the dinner he had finished earlier in the evening. Steak and fries emptied in hearty chunks as the officer patted him on the back. Mark's world got more painful as the shifting got worse.

As the man began to ask more questions, Mark suddenly felt cramped in the alley. He couldn't stay. All he wanted was his small apartment and bed. He began to beg the officer if he could leave, uselessly trying to persuade him. He shook his head no, insisting he had to stay to fill out his report.

Mark desperately searched for new ways to escape.

Somehow…

He just couldn't handle the dry crumbling red of the brick wall across from him. He couldn't deal with how it moved in front of his eyes, or how his stomach tightened in his body. He had to go. Now.

Suddenly he was thrown an opportunity as the officer shrieked in fear as the man who attacked Mark groaned. Blood spurted from the hole in his forehead as his hands scraped the ground leaving deep gouges from thick nails.

Fear sent a cold shiver throughout Marks spine... He had to get away. He couldn't stay if that freak was getting back up.

"Oh... My... God..." The officer whispered harshly pulling his gun out once again, his hands fumbling. Shaken by the grotesque scene displaying itself in front of him.

Mark was blocks away when he heard two quick gun shots, then a third. He had ran out of the alley and down the street despite the rapid twisting and dancing of the world. He had to stop three times before he pushed through the front door to his apartment and fell to his knees, in intense pain.

Fire. Like the burning of a marshmallow as it slowly crisps the outside until it's encased in a black cocoon of heat and pain. The indescribable amounts of agony he felt melted his skin and scoured his vocals.

He tried to get back up, but was paralyzed. The world grew hazy, then red, then faded to black. His body shocked itself awake suddenly, as if it would not allow him escape from his torment in the merciful arms of sleep.

He laid in his bed for what could have been hours until he was able to move again. It began with the ability to move his fingers, starting with his pinky and then his ring finger. Soon his whole hand was twitching as he loosely maneuvered it. He got feeling back limb by limb until he could successfully sit up. As he did, he noticed the once tender and pierced skin on his ribs didn't feel broken, and the pain in his head and neck was gone.

He circled his head around and around and stood with relief. Frowning, he looked down at his clothes. They were ripped, bloody and masked with dirt. Mark tore off his shirt and paced into the bathroom to shower and as quickly as possible trying to forget everything that had happened previously. He turned on the faucet and passed his arm under it.

The water was freezing, and it sent a passive shiver through Mark's being. He allowed his whole body to shake with the cold, but didn't remove the limb that was being assaulted by the water.

A few seconds later and the water was beginning to warm up, and his arm began to heat up as well.

Mark then finished peeling off his clothes and stepped into the shower. The water rushed over his body, taking all the dirt and grime and blood down the drain to hopefully never be seen again.

He finished and exited the shower, sighing heavily.

Maybe it was all a dream. It did feel only like a memory to him – like a thing that had happened to a friend. However a shudder passed through his body every time his mind fished out a stagnant memory. The attack might have seemed like a dream, but the torment he knew was real. He didn't think about what that could have meant.

Of course even the attack being a dream was argued by the multiple bite wounds in his neck, from the man who just couldn't kill him.

The thought vampire crossed his mind, but he quickly moved on from the theory. Vampires weren't real. They were things one read of in fiction, and saw in movies.

Maybe the mugger was an enthusiast. A creeper who had taken an obsession to far, trying to get the real feeling.

He ran a hand through his unruly wet black hair. His apartment seemed just too small at the moment. He felt like a caged animal, with the bars of his cage twisting around, choking him relentlessly.

Mark threw on a jacket and left his apartment. He walked along the streets of Cincinnati breathing in the cool air mindlessly kicking stones and stopping to watch cars pass by. He was incredibly lucky, and didn't know just how to feel.

Pulling out his cell phone he called his first contact, Wade. Though he joked and was a complete asshole to him most of the time they both knew they could count on each other for support, regardless of the reason.

A groggy half awake man answered the phone, "Mark? What the hell do you want? It's like three in the morning!"
Mark snorted, "Shut up Wade." He smiled then continued, "I was mugged earlier today by some whack job. I was lucky to get the hell outta' there alive, and he almost broke my neck."
Now fully awake, Wade sat up and spoke. Concern was laced throughout his voice. "You okay?"
"Yeah, yeah I'm fine just out for a walk and need to tell someone that's all."
"Mark you just got mugged and now you're walking around at night? Are you asking for it?" Mark smiled widely as he leaned against a wall.

"Shut up Wade." And hung up.
He was feeling more normal than ever. The fresh air filled his lungs, seeming to purify the scattered pieces of his mind.

Until an attractive blonde walked by. Her stride was confident, the clicking of her heels defined on the concrete.

It was sudden, her stumbling slightly.

She landed on her bare knees, letting out a small cry of surprise.

"Whoa, hey, you okay?" He said approaching her without thinking, offering his hand for help.

The smell hit him then.

The metallic sweet fragrance.

It was warm and comforting, drawing him closer to her with each second it lingered between them. His throat began to ache with an electrifying burn.

Her blood.

The red platelets seemed to call out to him, singing exotic melodies only his ears could transpose. He shook his head fiercely, as he tried to push away the need to grip the woman.

"Hey, you okay?" She asked and he nodded.

She took his strong hand and smiled sweetly looking down at her knees only to see small droplets of crimson fall to the concrete. As soon as the crimson raindrops fell the smell ignited a fire of lust deep in Marks stomach.

She tried to wipe away the blood that was falling with one hand.

The act only brought the smell closer to him.

He instinctively moved closer to her. It was immediate, and without hesitation. His body said no, but his mind...His mind said god yes.

He pounced.

Wrapping an arm around her neck he stood behind her and had her in a tight choke hold, dragging her kicking body into into the shadows. Slowly, her cries and attempts to get free were slowing, until finally, she fell unconscious in his arms. He let her fell to the pavement, hearing the echo of her fall bounce off the nearby walls.

Now what?

His hand clawed through his hair and he bit his lip. He made an instinctive decision and picked her up, bridal style. She was as light as a feather. He moved quickly, quicker than he had ever moved before. He'd never before been scared enough to run this fast. Not that he was initially scared now. He simply moved with an ease and grace astounding to him. Finally, he was in front of his apartment. He had come back in twice as little time than it took him to get out that far out. He took a deep breath, testing if his lungs felt strained.

They didn't.

The woman in his arms began to claw back into consciousness, her heavily made up eyes fluttering. He clenched his jaw, then threw her inside his home.

She landed hard and awkwardly, knocking the wind out of her chest with a whoosh.

"What am I doing?" He breathed out softly as she tried to crawl away miserably. He wanted to step forward and he wanted to taste her. The smell throbbing out of her with every beat of her weak heart made Mark's own chest clench.

He wanted to drink in all of her beauty until she was nothing.
He was fighting these thoughts, nonetheless. This was wrong. So damn wrong.
But...
The thought was a part of him, and it wouldn't leave. He couldn't shake it.

Could he actually go through with this?
The answer horrified him, because he knew…

He could do it.

Hours ago, the thought would have sickened him. It would have sent him into a rant on why it was wrong, why it was a sick thing to think of. He would have laughed at the thought of him actually taking someone life, and how bizarre it even sounded.

But now… now he had changed... he had something ripped away from him. Something from deep inside. Something important.
Self control? The ability to say that he could do this was wrong?

She struggled as he got on his knees and held her down. The small motions were nothing to him as he held her, moving his face closer to hers.

"You smell like..."

He let his nose brush right next to her jugular.

"Sweet, sweet chocolate."

And chocolate was his favorite.

He then felt his new teeth, the long canines, descend through his gums for the first time with a tiny stab of pain. A small amount of his own blood slipped onto his tongue from where his fangs ripped from under the tight pink flesh.

Mark knew he was about to taint his soul forever, eternally and internally poisoning his blood.

Every excruciating second he held back the more his body bombarded him. His 1000 fans, wherever they were, would never know or forgive him for what he was about to do.

For what he desperately needed to do.

His fangs slid in easily, and he clamped her neck in his jaws. Her blood, like hot chocolate, collided with his saliva and filled his mouth to the brim. It was like the nectar of gods.

He had done the unimaginable.

And he continued to do the unimaginable.

And continued...

And continued...

Then the girl wined softly as she fell unconscious from blood loss.

Mark pulled his canines from the woman's neck he watched as the translucent ribbons fall and dance within one another, dripping down and staining the carpet beneath.

He stood looking down at the pitiful pile that was once considered a woman. A smile was present on his lips as he stared at her now shaking body. It was the last motion she would ever make before she left her body completely.

The YouTuber gave a dark chuckle as he stared down at his now ruined shirt and jacket. Her... well, her blood's sweet scent lingered there.

What an experience... that was... it felt like he had taken a trip into a new heaven.

One stained in crimson and sewn together with screams.

Mark left the body where it drew its last breath as he went to the bathroom. The first thing he saw was his eyes. They were molten glowing orbs, red as blood and shining with what could only be the cool luminances of the moon. He still had a reflection despite his conclusion. He was a vampire now - no doubt against that. He let his fangs descend and slid his tongue over them, feeling their power and mystique. They were perfect, shiny and deadly. Unlike those of the man who had attacked him.

Mark made a small commitment to himself that he would make sure they stayed that way. His smile, still present, grow bigger.

He sighed in contentment.

Next Time…

Four Years Later…

It wasn't who he was, and it never will be.

He hated his curse, and he hated his diet.

They were just animals.

He took a sip…

For his fans.

A/N

Hi Guys! If you liked this,

please

Please

PLEASE

Share it with a friend and like make them love it as well. (seriously shove your, like phone in their face or something)
This is a collab between me and my friend Sm1l1ng. (hence InnerSmiling)
We put HOURS into editing this, and that is not even how much time we put into writing it in the first place.
We really appreciate Mark for what he does.
But we also love Darkiplier.
hehe.
This Fan fiction was inspired by Things In the Night By TheGoreyMakeUpGirl
Please, if you liked this, go check it out. It is, like, for real, our favorite fan fiction at the moment. ^.^
Expect an update about a week from now.
Feedback is much appreciated. And,
Please do remember:
Share it with a friend!