Hi guys! So I had this idea in my head for awhile and I decided to go ahead and write it. It's inspired by the movie Underworld. Seriously, if you haven't watched it, watch it now (Well the first one is the best of them all in my opinion). As for the other stories, I am still working on it. Got hit with writer's block and internet was down for nearly two weeks. It was bad. Hope you enjoy the first chapter.
The bright fluorescent green digits on an alarm clock slightly illuminated the small bedroom, covering the entire bedroom in a hazy green color. The digits blinked once causing the alarm on the bedside table to blare loudly. The body shifted and turned, burying itself under the covers in hopes of blocking out the loud noise. Finally having enough of the loud racket, a hand reached out from under the covers and pressed the snooze button, shutting off the blaring noise.
A set of tired brown eyes peeked out from under the covers, reading the time. "4:30 AM… Time to go to work." The figure threw the covers off, exposing a man in his mid-thirties with a pale complexion and wild, unruly brown hair in a dark blue shirt and white boxers, and yawned loudly as he cracked his stiff joints. He climbed out of the bed and went to get a clean pair of clothes from the closet before he then headed into the bathroom to get ready for the day ahead.
Now dressed in a crisp light blue dress shirt, dark blue pants, and a red tie, he then left the bathroom and wound up in the kitchen to make some breakfast. He made a piece of toast and quickly ate it, finishing it down with a glass of water. He quickly put on his wristwatch, his red Converse sneakers and his black coat; he then grabbed his briefcase, house key, and his ID. On it was his name, John Smith, and a picture of him. Locking the door on his way out, he then walked down the dark, quiet sidewalk to the bus stop near the intersection located a few houses from where he lived.
The sounds of bone breaking and flesh being torn apart could be heard echoing in the narrow dark alleyway. The empty, lifeless eyes of a young man stared up into the dark, early morning sky as his flesh was being torn apart and eaten by a large being, way too big to be a dog. Its fur, now red from the blood of its victim, had dark grey fur; it had a long snout like that of a wolf's laced with razor sharp fangs that could easily tear away flesh and sharp hook-like obsidian claws. Its eyes were a feral yellow and the pupils were black slits.
Tearing away another piece of flesh, the beast swallowed it down in one gulp. Its pointy ears suddenly perked up when it heard a distant crash. Its instincts were screaming, telling it that it was in danger, that now it was no longer the predator but the prey. Turning its attention away from its kill, the beast prepared to defend itself.
Out of the shadows, a young woman with skin the color of chocolate and raven-black hair stepped forth, her icy blue eyes watching the beast emotionlessly. She whipped her long black coat back and pulled out a pair of steel grey guns, pointing it at the beast. The beast snarled and ran straight for her, ready to tear her throat out.
Without even blinking an eye, the young woman shot the beast twice, in the head and in the heart. The beast yelped and went down, skidding to a stop at the woman's feet. She put the guns back in their holsters and whipped out a sharp dagger from the sheath wrapped around her thigh and sliced the great beast's head off. She wiped the dagger clean off then sheathed it once more. Without even looking back, she left the alleyway, leaving the two corpses behind.
"You wanted to see me Oracle?" a man with slicked black hair in a black regal robe asked. Milky white eyes looked to him as if staring right into his very soul. "Yes. I have received a prophecy from the Gods." The young woman replied.
"Tell me of this prophecy Oracle."
A mortal, descended from the Father of Vampires and Lycans, shall meet an Assassin with a heart of ice. The mortal would bring about the end of the War between these two but a heavy price must be paid. Brother will pit against Brother. Sister will pit against Sister. Blood shall be spilled before the Night's end and peace will come forth like a flower blooming in Spring.
The man furrowed his eyebrows, a troubled look on his face. "Do you know of this mortal Oracle? And whose blood shall be spilled?"
The blind Oracle shook her head. "No, I do not. I am only a messenger of the Gods, not one who sees the future.
The man gritted his teeth in anger, his blue eyes taking on a feral look. "Then I will take my leave." He turned and walked out of the Sanctuary, cold fury and a tinge of worry coursing through his veins.
As he walked away, the Oracle called out to him. "Be careful where you stride, Rassilon, for Death will come swift on you if you let your pride cloud your judgment." She warned.
Rassilon never looked back. "There shall be no peace between us and those mongrels. Whoever you are mortal, I will ensure that you will not become a threat to us. Even if you and I are related in blood."