WELCOME HOME, PRINCESS
For many years our people lived, and for many years they blended in with the dull fleeting beings that took up residence here. Our blood built up this country and our blood will eventually tear it down. Cursed...we are, but also blessed, as my cousin would say. We're immune to disease, to mortality, and to yearning. Well...that last one is a lie. We do crave something : life. We desire it more than sex. Even more than love. It keeps us satiated. Which keeps the masses alive. We're stronger than we look, some more than others. Our bloodline is of royalty. We have always craved power, sought it out, and took it as our own. Then with our hands and our sacred blood, we built an empire. Royal we are, but to keep it we must fight for it. Cursed by our own blood to walk this earth forever with each other. No one can love a Cassadine, but a Cassadine. And no one can hate a Cassadine as much as a Cassadine. We live and breathe death, destruction, and chaos. Walking plagues we are to this earth. Some of us love it. Thrive off of it. Then there are some of us, so innocent and pure, this life is complete Hell. Children of Apollyon, we we're destined to destroy this world. Centuries and centuries the Cassadines have lived, procreated, and for many more we will continue. We have just entered the Modern Black War, with Cassadine against Cassadine. A dark time we are in. A time where death is more certain than that of new life. Blood will be spilled…..just hopefully not mine.
Many many centuries ago
He was feared, he was great, but sadly he was a second born. One trapped behind that of his brother's shadow. He was heir to nothing more than a title: Prince Vladimir Cassadine. No power. No armies. Men would follow him into battle if needed be, but no men truly would as long as his brother, Sandor Cassadine, was breathing. They lived and died, by that of the honorable tsar Sandor. Someone Vladimir grew to loathe despite their blood ties. He was irate. Cursed. How could it be that the gods gave him such a fate worse than death. Second borns, mainly known as lowborns, were saw as lesser beings. Especially if they were the same sex as their older sibling. Spares, we are! Nothing, but disposable parts of a larger vessel. That would soon change. When people heard his name they would tremble, and the earth would quake at his step. On command he would control one of Russia's largest and most powerful armies. He would be GREAT.
Present Day
The sky darkened quickly. Enormous thick gray clouds took shape in the sky. Blotting out what little sunlight they had. Sam stared up at the now dismal sky above. Sadden a bit by it. It always rained when someone died. Granted, rain was pretty common there, but in this case it would be her grandfather, Mikkos, who passed. The old man finally croaked. Chaos would soon ensue. Sam was sure of it.
She lit the cigarette she held in her hand. Inhaling it a bit. The air was cold and everything else was damp. Here on the Isle of Skye, her own little paradise of exclusion and solitude. She wanted to laugh. She had been sent here at the mere age of eighteen for simply trusting the wrong person. Barred from her home. Taken away from her family. Ten years. It had been ten goddamn years. She was older of course. Maybe not much wiser, but she knew one thing for sure. Life just got a whole lot interesting for her.
She removed the thick wool sweater she had thrown on to trudge outside to meet the morning sun. To her disappointment she was met with rain and gray skies. Nevertheless it was still a great day. She stood atop of the rocky cliffs bare to bottom, with nothing but a pair of dark brown hiking boots. Her nipples harden instantly feeling the cold air against her skin. She loved the prickly sharp sensation that rode it's way up her thighs over her stomach up to her neck. It was like breathing that first big gulp of air after almost drowning. Life being restored back into your body. Simple pleasures like this had made Sam more grateful for life, but inside her sat a coldness no fire could warm. It lived within her, eating at the slightest feeling of joy. Sitting deep in the back of her chest, like a reminder. It was always there and had grew with time. She would never again lose herself the way she did all those years ago.
Without a another thought she plunged head first off the edge of the cliff. Straight into the depths below. The rush was even more thrilling each time she did it.
Hello, uncle.
Sam beamed with delight at the rotting corpse that sat below the surface. The wire she used to strangle her uncle Stavros was still imbedded into the slowly deteriorating flaps of skin. She was mesmerized by how slow it took for him to turn to bone. He had been under the water since her first night here and yet he still looked somewhat feasible. Well...excluding his eye sockets. She had dug the tips of her thumbs into them and tore his eyes out of his head. Sam held her thumb up to his face. Sizing the large open wound on both side. Remarkable, she thought.
He was waiting as soon as she was done with her swim. "Alfred?" She couldn't believed what she was seeing. "What are you doing here?" She wondered out loud. Then turned to her Watcher, Mrs. Hurst, who was silent. She looked at Sam for second, letting her eyes wander over Sam's face. She looked sentimental and sad, which wasn't like her at all. "What's going on?" Sam asked,shaking her a bit. Hoping she would come to her senses. Mrs. H pulled herself together and hardened her face. Looking as every bit of the unbending impenetrable force, Sam knew her to be. Mrs. H was like a mother to her. She had been with Sam her entire life, watching over her and making sure no harm would come to her. She even willingly chose to leave with her. Leave all she knew behind for the girl she never birthed. Sam trusted her more than anybody. "Alfred's come to take you home." She said slowly, making sure Sam heard her clearly. Sam was bemused. "What?" She asked in disbelief. "You're exile has been lifted with Mikkos' death. You can go home now."
Port Charles, New York
Spoon Island
The rain poured down like an onslaught. Beating against his windowpane so hard Nikolas almost mistaken it for the devil himself. He opened the doors to his balcony, letting in the storm. The unruly wind blew rain against his smooth flat tanned chest and face. Drenching him in a matter of minutes. "I fear no man or being. I'm invincible." He spoke into the heart of the storm. Laughing as more and more water sprayed his face. He was loving every bit of it. With his grandfather dead, his father nowhere to be found, and his treacherous cousin exiled to an island far across the world he was the next in line. This was his time. Finally.
Stirring from behind caught his attention. "You coming back to bed?" She asked, walking up behind him. Her hands immediately found their way to his chest. She loved every inch of his godlike exterior. He loved being worshipped. As he should. He was a God, an immoral one, but still one. He felt no pity for those below him. He was a being meant to be look upon and praised for their beauty, power, and strength. He wasn't being overly confident. He was just being honest. "No. I'm not, but we can do so much more right here." She bit her lip in anticipation. "Like what?" She whispered, letting the raging storm conceal her words. He ran his hand over her angelic brown skin and through her thick curls. Grabbing a handful of her hair, he yanked her head back. She winced at the pain it caused, but also smirked from the searing pain it caused. He had never found someone that enjoyed pain as much as him. Well, outside of his family that is. He lowered her body with simply just the tug of her hair. "Get on your knees." He commanded, while she complied. Her light brown eyes stayed on him as she did. "Yes, my Lord." She purred, getting on her knees. Her mouth instantly latched onto his already erect dick. Using her hand to keep it steady she licked the base and then the head. Biting on it hard enough to draw blood. Nikolas groaned and shook from the ecstasy it brought him. She drunk the blood she spilled. Licking her lips to make sure she got it all. Her mouth moved over his dick with ease. The pleasure she brought him was immense. The very sight of them by the opened balcony, with the storm raging on around them must be a envious sight for the gods. Something he took great pleasure in.
Kristina stared at the exquisite ring placed on her wedding finger. She loved it. It was a cushion cut 3 carat black diamond. Something she longed for since she was a little girl. She had many dreams of this day, her Bacchanalia, her wedding, and her life after. It was all she knew. All she was raised to know as Natasha Cassadine's second daughter. Second born…..lowborn. Nothing more. Now that she had it she still felt incomplete. Something didn't feel right. It wasn't the ring. She absolutely adored it. Could it be the man that gave her the ring? She shook her head quickly. Not wasting a single despairing thought on it. Of course not. Phillip was great. He had a title, he had money, and he knew of her family. He accepted them. Which was always better than the alternative. Then why did a girl who had everything she wanted still feel like her world was falling apart?
Dinner was ready, and everyone gathered around to sit. They each stood behind their chair, paying respect to a fallen Cassadine. "Mikkos, was a wonderful husband and father." Helena started. You could tell by her clenched jaw and tighten grip on her champagne glass, that she was livid. "He loved all his children, some more than others though. He lived a great life with many accomplishments. May his soul rest in the Nether." They all raised their glasses in honor.
"Oh, give it a rest. Mikkos' soul will only know peace in between the legs of one of his mistresses. I bet the old son of a bitch is face full of some Romani pussy as we speak." Irina said, gulping down her drink. When it was depleted she beckoned their maid for a refill. "Oh how we missed your sense of humor, Irina." Helena said sarcastically, as she took a sip of her champagne. Helena didn't waste anytime and took her seat. The rest of them followed. "I'm sure you did. This house is such a sad shadow of its former days. That's more of a tragedy than of Mikkos keeling over. Which of course I'm glad to bear witness to." Irina droned on. Kristina and Molly knew it was best to keep silent. Irina led the prestigious Covenant, a very well known group that use to dedicatedly follow Apollyon. Now they use it as a front to do charity work all across the work, while still using their influence and power to do Apollyon's bidding. By joining would mean to give up meaningless ties that would bound you. No children you could bear. No marriages you could have. The Covenant had been around for centuries and they were the same people who punished Molly and Kristina's eldest sister to Coventry for her betrayal.
Kristina obviously didn't want to join in on such an agreement, but her baby sister Molly did. It was all she talked about since she got closer to her 18th birthday. With her being sixteen she still had time to truly decide whether that path is the one she wanted to take. If she chose to, she would have to stand judgment. Which neither Molly or Kristina knew what that meant.
"Don't you ever shut up, Irina?" Nikolas said, finally getting fed up with her incessant chattering. He threw his napkin down and waved his hand for the idle maid to clear his plate. "You came hear for what? We all know of your dislike for Mikkos. As if he's somehow to blame for you being a bastard." As soon as he said it the whole table became unease. That was the one thing that could set Irina off. She lived with that title everyday of her life and somehow to hear it was like an alarm going off inside her head.
Irina immediately stopped talking and straighten her back. Glaring directly at Nikolas. "I mean the old man still gave you his name and accepted you as his own. That's more than his brother, your real father, Victor, ever did." Nikolas said smirking, while taking a sip of his wine. The air in the room was thick with tension. Stefan raised a hand to stop what they all knew had started. Helena just sat back in her chair and watched. Tickled by how marvelous her grandson turned out. He was the best choice to lead this family, far better than his father or his weak uncle. "Father, stay out of this." Molly whispered to Stefan, who gently shook her arm off of his. He stood, though mute, trying to calm both sides when a slick silver dagger flew across the table. The dagger pierced Stefan's neck, causing a sheet of blood to spray the table and all its occupants. Soundless screams came from Stefan as he fell to the ground. "Daddy!" Molly screamed, falling to her knees beside him. Kristina slowly, with less dramatics, came to his side as well. Pulling the dagger from his neck without blinking. "You would stab your king." Nikolas stated with laughter. He wasn't surprised by Irina's volatile behavior, she was infamous for it. Irina rolled her eyes and scoffed. "Modern terms are for children, Nikolas. I also don't see any "kings" here. Just a petulant little boy, craving power and attention. Pathetic." Irina seethed. Nikolas smiled with delight. "Better that, than some feral bitch with no claim or title. Bastard." Nikolas hissed, making sure to push every button he knew he could. Irina knew what he was doing, but couldn't help the rage that warmed her blood and pushed her to strike him. Instead she held back and stood. Knowing what her assault against a future ruler of their family would get her and the loss of her hands was too great of a risk. "Coming mother? I have some things to discuss with you." Irina said, moving away from the table. She didn't look in either of their direction and spoke over her shoulder. Her long pale blonde hair fell down her back. She was tall and lean. Almost reminding many of a Valkyrie. Her beauty was also a well known fact.
"Of course my child." Helena followed her steps, but before they could leave Nikolas stopped them. "Irina?" He called her name, which halted her steps. "You ever try that little knife trick again I will rip your heart from out of your chest and then set that beautiful hair of yours on fire. So that when we present you on your funeral pyre, you'll be the nothing more than the joke you already are. You're dismissed." Irina, with nostrils flared, stormed from the dining hall. Helena slowly followed behind. Comforted by her daughter's lack of restraint. Knowing it would one day get her killed.
Nikolas looked down at his uncle and got up from his seat. "The funeral is tomorrow. Make sure he's well dressed and prepared." Without a second glance Nikolas was gone from the room. Leaving Kristina, a bleeding Stefan, and a distraught Molly behind.
The Floating Rib
The air was thick with smoke, while music gently played in the background. Something slow so the masses could grind against each other. Rubbing their bodies together as one. He walked through the crowd. Trying to find a seat at the bar. Which thankfully he was able to and to his surprise next to one of the most sexiest woman he had ever seen.
"I'm Dr. Patrick Drake." He introduced himself immediately upon sitting. "And you?" The woman swung her ebony curls to the side to stare up at him. "A doctor, huh? Can you cure me?" She said, staring deep into his were as a black as night. Something hidden just within them. Something mysterious. He liked it. "I can cure all diseases and ailments. What are you suffering from?" He asked, letting his eyes roll over her tight little body. "Death. How can you save me doctor?" She whispered into his ear. Letting her tongue slide up the edge of it. His eyelids shut and he felt himself harden almost instantly. "I've got an elixir that can cure the dying and bring back the dead. Would you like me to show you?"
The blue neon sign from outside showered the little motel room with its hue. She rose from him, bathed in the blue shade. Slowly she rode his dick letting her bare breast rise and lower with each movement. She bit her lip as she rode him faster and harder. A groan escaped his lips with the tightening of her walls around his dick. His hands grasped at her body. Squeezing her hips to move with her, in sync. Her large breasts bounced as he slammed his dick harder inside her. Sweat poured down the middle of them, rolling over her stomach and onto his. She slid off his dick, climbing to his face. Sitting upon a throne made of flesh. His tongue tasted her sweet warm juices that his dick was once in. Hungrily eating at the savory tastes her pussy bestowed upon him. While his face was full, she clenched onto the headboard. Eyes completely black and mouth wide open salivating, hungry for something more than the head of his enlarged dick. No, her hunger was coming from a place of depravity. One she could no longer keep at bay.
Port Charles Police Department
Lucky sat in front of his desk going through the files one by one. Numerous murders of young men and women had struck Port Charles, his home, for the past few years. The cases were overlooked for some time because each one was a single act that happened over an extended period of time. No more than three murders occurred within the same year. Now he sat in from of five different cases of brutal homicides that happened all in the last week. One body was burned, two others had their eyes ripped from their heads, another was torn apart not by steel or machine, but by human hands. The last one was a twenty-three year old female, who was heading home from work. She was split in half. Cut up from her crotch through her abdomen. She was still alive when the crime happened. Lucky closed every single file in front of him. No longer able to read the words. He grabbed the flask from underneath the pile on his desk and took a swig. Not caring whether any of his fellow brothers or sisters in blue saw. This job wasn't for the weak. It took its toll on each and every one of them, so they looked past his occasional drink. Even if it no longer was every once in awhile. He had slowly, but surely become addicted to the taste and smell of hard alcohol. Waking up to it and needing it to soothe him to sleep. He was able to keep his family unaware of this problem, but it was becoming harder to mask with each passing day.
Hands fell over his shoulders, wrapping around his neck. "You coming home tonight?" Maya asked, looking down at what was before him. Lucky removed the files from her eyesight. Not wanting her to see what gruesome injustice was waiting for the people of Port Charles. "Of course." He replied, getting his things together. Maya, though, couldn't stop thinking about what she read: Is this the work of a serial killer or of THEM. Who were "them"?
"You coming, babe?" Lucky said, snapping Maya out of her thoughts. She shook away what she had read and smiled. Grasping his hand as they walked out of the PCPD together.
Two hours later. . .
Cloaked in black he stood in the shadows just outside the PCPD, waiting patiently. Time was of no importance. He would be here until she came out. To his surprise she got off earlier than he expected. It was 2am and she came out of the building. She waved goodbye to some friends as she walked toward her car. He followed. She could feel the eyes of someone on her and turned accordingly, met with nothing, but the chill of the night and the smell of more rain to come. She continued to her car. Getting her keys out. Never seeing when the man in black struck her from behind.