A/N: So...In case people were wondering why it took so long to update here's some new for you...I have officially completed my high school education. For the past few months I had to focus on my studies and exams, then I took some time off to de-stress. Then finally I decided to get back to writing today so without further ado, you may continue reading if you so wish.
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"But, who, are, you?" I clenched my fists until my nails were biting the skin on my palms, a tremble slowly working its way up my spine as I tilted my head,
"What does it matter to you?" He took another step forward, but as if reading my intentions behind me shifting my weight he suddenly appeared in front of me. And as he went to raise his hand I lashed out, only to find that in a blur of motion he caught both my hands and had me awkwardly pinned to the wall. Clear liquid oozed out from the only scratch I inflicted across his cheek, before the flesh quickly threaded itself together. His stare was steely and calculating, red veins lacing around and choking baby blue.

"What have I done to have stirred such hostility?" He rasps, his voice husky and rough, a cough escaping him as he twists his head away for a moment. Then bloodshot blue eyes are upon me again. I stare back, trying to steady an anticipating unease in my gut. But it appeared that he was seriously waiting for a response. Uncertainly I managed to speak up,
"You kidnapped me, y'know, for starters. Also, just a little complaint," I made as much of a gesture as I could, "This is extremely uncomfortable." He backed off a couple of steps, a warning etched across his face, daring me to try anything else.
"You collapsed at the subway, only a lesser man would have left you where you lay for another to find." I rubbed my wrists and glared, okay so that was kind of nice of him, but…
"What about this?" I gestured towards the cluttered room surrounding me. He growls as he started to fidget with his coat,
"A necessary precaution. You were a danger to…It was this or kill you. I thought you would prefer this." I raise my eyes slightly,
"Oh, well…thanks for your consideration? But uh, vaults full of crates and junk is hardly hospitality." He crosses his arms and glares, "…Not that I'm complaining or anything. Just being alive is pretty cool." He just stares at me, before he shuffles his feet and lowers his eyes to the ground, head slightly turned as he shyly states,
"I am, open, about getting you anything that might…make your stay more comfortable. There is warm water and a change of clothes waiting if you'll accept it." When I arch my eyebrow he quickly hisses, "I'm not heartless."
"If letting me go is out of the question-" His brow lowers threateningly, "Okay, totally out of the question…Well if I'm going to be here for a while then… blankets and some food would be highly appreciated if it could be arranged. Oh and, food food, not, you know, people." The cornor of his mouth twitched disdainfully when I clarified the difference, but he turns his head in thought, then glanced back,
"I'll do what I can." As if silently cued the door begins to open, he casts a warning glare over his shulder when I take a step forward, but from somewhere behind the door he retrieves a bundle of clothing, the other a bucket full of water and a towel. He leaves them by the wall, then wordlessly leaves…That was actually quite a civilised conversation as far as hostage situations go. At least I'm not in immediate danger I suppose…Unless the food he brings back is poisoned or something.

I creep closer and examine the pile of clothing which consisted of a faded red and black baseball tee, a pair of plain grey track pants with a shredded knee and even a pair of socks. They smelt like mothballs and looked well-worn, but hey, better than nothing. As if on cue I'm all too aware of how I reeked of sweat and was still covered in dried blood. I guess I really did need to wash up. Glancing down at the bucket I see a sponge floating in the middle and I tentatively test the water, it's lukewarm, but it'll do too. Cleanliness, clothes and cotton had never been so appreciated as I sighed in contentment upon dressing. I can't help but wonder where he got these anyway, though I don't think he'll appreciate it if I ask him. I'm in a bit of a delicate situation at the moment. I need to find out why he's decided to keep me around, surely he has another reason? Maybe he wants something from Blade? My mind ponders over possibilities, perhaps he was hoping for a truce with Hunters? That would explain why I was alive, but kidnapping me wouldn't achieve that…There's a million things racing through my head, none of them really making any sense…

I only realised he had returned when the door clicks and wakes me from the slumber I had dozed off to, and of course before I could turn the door was shut already, and he stood just in front of it. He held a greasy bag and the tell-tale smell of burgers and chips wafted through the air. He held it out, and cautiously I reached to grab it. My fingers just barely brushed his, but he almost immediately whipped it to his chest as if the contact burned him. However, he did not make any move to leave, instead he rested against the door. Now I was seriously considering if the food was actually poisoned. I opened the bag and took a whiff, but smelt nothing more poisonous than whatever those fast food places already have in there. But a cautionary glance revealed that he was still standing there watching…Maybe he was just making sure that I eat before he leaves? Willing up my courage, I finally took a bite from the hamburger, to my relief not tasting anything unusual. Well he's not trying to poison me. But, I could still feel those piercing blue eyes on me. Slowly I tried to finish my meal without looking at him, but every now and then I would check. He didn't move, not even a single muscle out of place since the last time I looked. And just as I got used to the awkward silence he croaks, almost causing me to choke on a fry,
"What…is it like?"
"I-I'm sorry?" He's staring directly at the paper bag,
"What does it taste like?" I glance at what remained,
"Well, mostly like oil, ketchup with a little bit of plastic cheese and meat. What else would you expect?" He narrows his eyes and folds his arms,
"I wouldn't know." I tilt my head and offer my fries,
"Do you want a taste?" He shifts his weight awkwardly grimaces. I finish my meal in silence as he watches… When I look back up at him, I notice that his veins are dancing around his skin, his skins flushed pale, and his breathing is laboured… And his eyes are red. Instinct has me tensing and suddenly all too aware of his movements as he twitches. His voice is hushed and raspy as he tilts his head,
"Am I truly that disturbing?" His lips curl as a cough tearing through his chest. Almost all of his teeth are bared, sharp and jagged as he begins to stalk his way towards me. I stand my ground but clench my fists and watch his every move closely.

He stops just in front of me, his face only inches away so that his breath stirs my bangs as he stares down.
"Well…You are making me feel uneasy." When I flinch he twitches, yet he raises one hand and slowly drags a knuckle down my cheek. His touch is feather-like, yet heat rolls off him in waves. He tilts his head, eyes burning in to mine as he lowers his mouth closer to my ear and rasps,
"A woman once wrote of an unnatural creature that did not come to be what he was through his own means yet suffered for it. And to his creator he said," He pauses as he notices a stray hair had fallen in to my eyes, and gently he brushes it away, stroking his fingertips along my cheekbone before he rests his hand at my jaw and lifts my face so that I am looking at him directly, "If I cannot inspire love," A flicker of emotion crosses his eyes, "…I will cause fear." I tilt my head back at him,
"Is that what this is all about? Someone hurt you so you've decided to terrorise the streets of Prague in revenge? …Do you realise how childish that is?" That hit a nerve. His nails are clawing in to my wrists as he clutches them, his grip shaky as a beastly growl rumbles from his chest.
"My goal is not so…Childish. I have a more directed hatred, everything I'm doing is necessary if I'm going find the one I'm after." He sneers as his brow twitches, "And I was more than hurt." His bloodshot eyes are wet and his voice cracks, but his lips are still curled around his teeth, "I promised myself long ago that if my existence is to be this miserable, I would grant myself vengeance. Even if it was the only retribution I would ever receive." He lowers his eyes to the ground and his trembling worsens. He sounds worn. I didn't need to be a genius to understand, and in a moment of sympathy I let my cheek rest on his. And though he flinches he does not pull away, instead he leans in to the touch slightly and a sigh sweeps across his lips.

"Nomak, revenge…is that really what you want most?"

Then all too suddenly he drops my wrists, instead cupping the back of my head and his lips graze against mine ardently. But almost as quickly as it happened, he pulls himself away and stares at me in confusion, as if he didn't even understand what he just did. He retreats further, a hand over his mouth as he casts his eyes to the walls. Even the air feels still as both stand in our corners, before with an apprehensive rasp he speaks,

"I…" Briefly he looks back up at me, before quickly turning his back as he reaches for the door. "I need to feed, I'll return shortly."

Shock fills me to the bone, and it is not for a short while longer I somewhat come back to reality and touch my fingertips to my lips. They're still warm with his kiss. And I'm not completely sure what to think, other than the fat that I didn't expect that reaction. Or for him to be so gentle. Nothing seems to make sense any more. Not finding it within myself to sleep again, I gaze across the room for a distraction. And see the crates.

Scud took a long drag of the joint in his fingers, a relief from the sudden return of actual emotions that passed over him. He hadn't broken down like that since he was mugged in middle school. Viv didn't mean that much to him, really…he just had to keep saying that. That's what he did, he denied ever feeling anything for anyone so he could convince himself he wasn't hurt. Maybe one day it will actually work, and he hoped it was soon. Because tonight they found where the Reapers were hiding and figured out how they were getting about…tomorrow they will raid the sewers…and he wanted to be the exact opposite of emotional when they found either a body, or a once familiar she-Reaper. He feels the pangs in his chest again, and flicks away what remained the smouldering stick, moving on to his next distraction. He gets up to go search his collection of raw materials for some phosphor rods. If this works, then maybe all he'll find is an unrecognisable pile of ash.

I'm not sure how much time has passed, minutes or hours, not having access to a clock or a window will do that to your perception of the matter. But I've been half-heartedly rummaging through the crates, and most clearly have been since whenever this vault was last in use. Some were rotten to the point that they practically fell apart upon contact, some held various useless items like paperweight, others were simply empty. But the last crate, looked fairly new. It was not covered in cobwebs or dust, and unlike the others, was not sealed. Lifting up the I fully recognised just how different this crate was to the others. For on the bottom of the lid, was an oddly familiar looking double-helix, just like the one on the roof of the Damaskinos building. It was full to the brim with folders, haphazardly piled within and it appeared that there was more lying under the ones I could see. The one on particular was bent, dented, and generally looked very beaten over the years. And I was sure those random splashes of red was blood. I touched one and frowned…they were old, but not that old. I could have left it alone, just leave it lie in its crate in the corner. But I guess I wasn't thinking about what exactly could possibly be within it, because I didn't. The folder was full of sheets of paper, reports mostly. I skim through them, only glancing over each nearly indiscernibly scripted article, but when one bolded word caught my eye…only then I realised…what these were reports on. Each one was a different day, but it was the contents that unnerved me. Subject is responding well to the virus, higher levels of sedation required, subject becoming increasingly hostile. Subject dead, new subject's test commences treatment tomorrow. Flicking through some more I came to a tab labelled 'Hybridization: Sequence R'. The contents…horrified wouldn't fully suffice exactly how they made me feel. The Reaper strain didn't evolve. I flipped through the documents, finding old images of a young boy, bald, veiny and had an unmistakable scar running down his chin. He was always strapped to a table, naked and vulnerable to the scalpels that cut and the needles that pierced, and it appeared he was always awake through it all. In every photo he was hooked up to possibly hundreds of machines. The doctors and nurses were always operating them, or on the young Nomak. In one, his mouth was almost unhinged from the force of his scream, as the surgeons pried apart his sliced torso, revealing his inner organs. The image of the original Reaper grew older, but the scene never changed. One photo looked up at the camera, tears still wet on his cheeks, and in his eyes… an unheard plead. Soon however, it appeared, as if he no longer had the strength to manage even that, and his eyes gazed up blankly at the ceiling. Devoid of all emotion. Sickness crept through my system as I cringed at each no doubt painful procedure, old wounds starting to sting and the scar at the back of my neck twinged. Then I came across one yellowed, crinkled and stained page, it was written in red inked scrawl…this wasn't a report…no, this looked like a diary entry, or a note. Holding it up closer to my face I tried to discern the mess of scratches and scribbles,

The blood they have in the IV, does nothing for my thirst or the burning like they said it would. I can no longer complain though, it hurts too much. My throat feels sore, hot and like its cracking, turning to ash inside of me. It's always so hot, I feel like a never faltering blaze rages on inside of me, and that my veins are flowing with molten lava, killing me slowly from inside. Father's face is nothing more than a distant memory now, and the seams are unravelling. Does he not care? Where is he? My questions go unanswered. Why must I suffer? It hurts so much. It's agonising, the loneliness. I want to go home. I want a home to go home to. I want so little. Please Father, save me! I don't want this anymore! Father I'm sorry, I am not strong enough. The pain will kill me, I know it will! Father…why don't you answer? Silent. This room, is cold, unforgiving and silent…Just like you Father.

I closed the folder quickly, refusing to read anymore, feeling like I was intruding on something a little too intimate. As I lowered my arms, letting the files fall from my fingers …a gloved hand slammed the lid back on. I didn't hear the door open. But sure enough, a peek over my shoulder confirmed his return. I smelt the blood before I saw it, smeared and splattered all over his face, small streams of it still flowing freely from his chin. My breath hitched as I leaned away from him and covered my nose with my hand. He backed off a couple of steps and tried to subtly wipe the blood off with his arm. But his eyes were still red and bloodshot. His breathing was a little ragged as he darted his eyes over me and the bundle of files. His scar split a little and I could see the barbs inside his mouth squirming as he managed to mumble a monotonous,
"Did you read them?" I honestly couldn't tell if he was mad or not.
"If you didn't want me to read them you shouldn't have locked me up in the same room, or at least told me not to. Then I might not have."
"…I wondered if you would become curious."
"You, wanted me to find them, didn't you."
"Yes." He turns his eyes back to me, "And no." I could see the conflict of emotions this time, in his eyes. They were slowly returning to that sorrowful baby blue. But…those red eyes that blazed with fire, searing as if they glared hard enough they could scorch my very soul. I'd seen that animosity before, the hate, the pain, the desire to tear, rip and massacre anything and everything…and I finally understood him.
"Jared-" He snarls fiercely at me,
"Don't call me by that name." Realising his outburst he hides his face and casts his eyes downwards and hisses softly, "I can't stand to hear it."
"I know, Nomak. I know what that's like."
"How could you?" Slowly I step close until I was just in front of him. He twitches when I raise my hand, but gently I place it on his chest reassuringly,
"That place, deep inside. It's dark, it's hurt, it's angry and alone. It's almost suffocating it's so miserable there. I know Nomak because…" I laced my fingers with his and guided his hand to the back of my neck, to that small, seemingly insignificant scar.

"I've been there too."