Authors Note: This is an idea that just came to one day, and somehow it got rolled in with Underworld after I watched the movie for the umpteenth time. It doesn't seem like it has to do with it at all, but all will be shown in the chapters after this one.
Disclaimer: Underworld belongs solely to the ingenious mind of Len Wiseman, Kevin Grevioux, and the team behind the curtain. The song featured is Flying High by Jem. I'm just playing with both then I'll put them back, I promise!
Sex, Drugs, and Rock'n Roll: No, no again, and yes.
Rating: PG-13, but may go up in future chapters. Due to violence, gore, and sappy moments.
This is my first posting, so comments, ideas, compliments, and yes, flames, will be accepted with gratitude. Thanks and appreciation to Lenore for inspiration.
"As she sat in the murky swamp, surrounded by grizzly terrain and mangled forests, she watched the daylight flicker away. And finally, finally she knew. It wasn't the night she was afraid of, but the creatures that lived in it."
The red sun began to sink low into the horizon and the creatures of the night could be heard awakening. She could hear their rustling which was in tune to the cricket's lullaby. Shivers ran up her spine and found an unwelcome home in her heart as she turned her fearful gaze away from the swamp. She had to leave...before it was too late. She had to get away...so far away. But where? She had no where else to go. Her fear for the creatures wasn't empty... they were the reason she was so alone...so very alone...
She pulled herself out of the muddy squalor and began to run towards the darkened woods. As she ran she closed her eyes and remembered. Remembered the last night her family lived, and the massacre that followed. Remembered so fiercely and realistically, that she could see the street she lived on, could smell the morning glories in the neighbor's yard.
Then she stopped.
The pavement beneath her feet was real, a tangible object no longer an imprint upon her mind. She was there.
She slowed down her pace and looked around, tears welling in her eyes. How did she end up here? She was thousands of miles from here...everything was the same... almost. She began to move slowly, hesitantly. She thought vaguely of turning back...but she wanted to see everything. To see her home, the place she lived and loved the place she missed so much.
She gulped and starred in front of her... this was... this was her home now. She couldn't stop the tears now... especially not that she could see the blood that still stained the door. The handprint was so small... it was her brother's. She opened her mouth to cry out, to wail; to vent all her anger with her voice. But couldn't. She couldn't speak. Not a sound came out, no anguished wail, no hateful scream. They all lost their lives, she only lost her voice.
Riddled with the fresh guilt of their deaths, she didn't notice the singing coming from the shadows.
"But I'm flying so high
High off the ground
When you're around
And I can feel your high
Rocking me inside
It's too much to hide..."
The singing stopped, and in a state of shock she saw the face in the shadows. It was her own, untainted by uncontrollable hatred and anger; so innocent from the evils inside.
A bloodcurdling scream wracked the shadows of the night, and the innocence was lost.
Like an unearthly specter, I sat there and watched myself run into the house, devoid of human life, looking for survivors. And though still sitting on the outside steps, I knew what she would find. First her mother and baby brother right inside the door, hands still reaching for the door handle, a way to escape the carnage. Then her older sister, eyes closed, forever in an endless sleep. Her father on the back porch, keys to the gun safe still in hand. And I sat there until she came out, covered in our family's lifeblood, a single tear track through the blood on her face.
"Are you death?" she asks in a small voice.
Before I could even begin to process the thought that she could see me, her eyes rolled back and she collapsed.
And as she fell into my arms, I cried. It had been too long since I cried for them, for my life before the blood. That moment, I knew that the world had changed. There was no one there for me after that night. I was left to foster homes and orphanages for three years before I was shut out. Could I change this? Was that my purpose here, to console my younger self and prevent her from destroying the threads of reality; showing the world what you see is not what's there?
The next few hours were a brightly painted blur, the silence punctured by the sirens' call of rescue, a promise of a safe harbor. But the port was blown away in the storm. The EMS team called to the site was untested in the sight of so much gore, but they knew enough to realize they weren't needed in the house. A female EMS, wiping bile from her mouth, stood stock still when she noticed me sitting there, a flawless specter holding my blood covered replicate in my arms. Her panic-stricken scream got the attention of the others, who rushed to help.
"There's nothing you can do, she's just passed out," I said calmly in my distinct and refined tone, surprising one of the men, who sharply looked up and said, "Ma'am, let the trained professionals handle this."
"Then move, you're relatively inexperienced, sir. I'm the trained professional here, doctor," I replied with malice, refusing to give my charge to the hands pulling her away. "Call the coroner, there's no one left in there. Right now I just need a blanket or two and a sedative. When she wakes she'll be in shock," I said softly, looking at the young girl in my arms. The sedative wasn't needed, but I remember that when the shock kicked in, all I could do was fitfully sleep it off.
"Who are you?" the female EMS still crouched at my side questioned.
"Family," I replied, the truth evident in my voice.
"No, I mean in general. A name?" she asked in a plaintive tone.
"Anna Corvin," I said, finally looking up. She gasped.
"Your eyes…" she said in a muted tone of complete amazement. I quickly looked back down, momentarily forgetting my distinguished appearance.
Suddenly the unconscious teen shuddered and opened her eyes. Pure indigo rimmed azure eyes sleepily stared through drooping lids back at my matching gaze. "You're still here… not a… dream…" Unconsciousness reigned again over the limp form.
"My god, who are you people?" the EMS asked in shock.
"It's hard to explain, but this here is also Anna Corvin," I replied. Lies are completely overrated, always thought so. What's the point of them?
"Are you her name sake or something? But, your eyes… you weren't kidding, were you? You are actually her?" silence permeated the moment. The other two EMS finally came over with the blankets and syringe of sedative. The blankets now securely wrapped around the sleeping form and sedative administered, the young EMS waited for her colleagues to move out of earshot before bombarding her with questions. "How? Where are you from? When are you from? Why?..."
"What's your name?" I asked, not willing to reveal the answers in lieu of disrupting a cosmic balance of some sort.
"Uh, Janet. Janet Reis," she answered puzzled.
"Well Janet, to all of those questions I have no answer. After I finished my MD and internship, I left the known world and lost track of time. All I know is that it was after the year 2046."
"2046? That's impossible! It's 2006 and your young counterpart here can't be more than 17! And you don't look a day over 25!" Janet exclaimed, quieting when the others by the ambulance twisted in their direction.
"It's a long story that I have no time for now. We have to leave," I replied, standing gracefully, lifting the girl in my arms as if I was carrying a doll.
"You can't! Procedure dictates that you are checked over by a medical specialist before any departure!" yelled one of the EMS from the ambulance, running to stop me.
"Watch me."