Last Ditch Effort

Disclaimer: He he. Almost forgot to do this. Ahem, All characters and events in this story are purely fictitious, therefore, all and any similarity to a real person, living or dead is entirely coincidental and unintended by she wrote this. Absolutely no connection to anyone involved in the TV show, especially since they had the bright idea to end the show as they did. Heh.

Author's Note: Here's another one that popped into my head as I was puttering away in my room, trying to find the order in my personal chaos..hope you like it! And need I say it? Reviews!

Chapter 1: The Awakening (also title from a song from the soundtrack of Underworld: Evolution heh)


As the screen began to focus, the bottom left corner declaring 'For Centre Use Only – 5/23/74', one could make out the shapes of a steel table standing at the centre of the room, with a chair on either side, an obvious lack of all and any creature comforts. Back to the basics, they declared, the walls whitewashed as their bareness screamed the lack of identity, of real human habitation.

A humming in the background slowly began to emit from the speakers of the DSA player, its melody lonely, a form of escapism from the shadows that closed in on him from all directions. As the camera shifted, a young Jarod sat near the opening of an air vent, his tune a signal for Angelo to make his presence known. He stilled as he heard the tortured gravelly tone of his friend reciting "Daughter sad, Daughter afraid, Daughter sad, Daughter afraid."

"Angelo?" Jarod called anxiously, his voice tight with worry.

The camera then shifted swiftly to follow the entry of a timid Miss Parker, her movements wary and apprehensive. As she spied Jarod in the corner, so did he; his head had spun swiftly at her entry. Pushing himself off the ground with one hand, he rose and waited for her to reach him, his eyes watching her as if trying to understand her solely from the way she moved.

"Miss Parker?" he voiced timidly. Their eyes catching, Miss Parker let out a soft sob, before moving forward into his arms, her face resting on his shoulder as her hands softly rested on his chest.

Jarod, stunned at the physical contact, felt his hands twitching impotently as his sides, useless in their incongruity, not understanding what he should do, how he should move even as his heart yearned to comfort this little girl that had come to mean so much for him in his time at The Centre.

Rising slowly from his sides, his hands fisted and released in smooth succession, unsure of their purpose nor their destination..

In the present, Jarod sat gazing in quiet concentration at the scene, one fist resting against his mouth as his other hand reached to flick the switch off, ending the DSA abruptly. The lines of his face were carved sharply, the light catching on his cheekbones as he stayed in that position, his eyes then moving to settle on the letter that lay in front of him. Slim and white, the envelope had a small multi-colored bouquet stenciled in at a corner and, even after all these years, a sweet scent wafted from the paper.

In its center, written in a cursive and elegant hand, reminiscent of what could be found on the small notes addressed to Miss Parker from her mother, was the single and innocuous word.

"Jarod."

She came to slowly, bits and pieces of her past flashing before her eyes in black and white as she felt the dryness in her throat and the pain around her wrists begin to register. Her head had been resting to its right side, her dark hair falling over her face and a crick in her neck making it clear she had been in that position for a while now.

Letting out a soft groan, she lifted her head warily, prepared to feel her backbone pulsing in pain at the movement. Then the empty space, the dark cavernous emptiness began to register and she began to take stock of her physical state. She sat on a wooden chair, or was tied to it rather, her ankles roped together as she assumed her hands were behind her back, her wrists tugging helplessly. Around her upper body was heavy duty wire, cutting into her abdomen and ribs, pulling painfully at the skin.

The dryness in her throat she could now associate with the cotton cloth that served as her gag, the material coarse and rough against the surface of her tongue. Her eyes flitting over her surroundings, she saw mud and brick , a low ceiling above her and a high intensity mine-lamp at her top right, right beside a small innocuous video camera, a blinking red light giving it a menacing life, a signal of its domination in the space. She stared dumbly at it, beginning to understand just what the hell she had gotten herself into, and more importantly, did not know how to get herself out of.

"Ah, I see we are awake. Hello, Miss Parker." The voice came out of the intercom to the other side of the camera, the voice smooth and polished, with an obvious accent that Miss Parker recognized instantly.

Her eyes wide, she began to saw at the ropes around her wrists, muffled noises emiting from behind the gag, her ankles rubbing together valiantly. Her eyes fixed on the camera, anger and murder shining brightly in their irises, she understood that nothing good had ever come from the owner of that voice, even from the very first time she had known of his existence. Nothing good.

Only death.