A dark haired man burst through the unit's shabby front doors and smiled at the gory scene, blood decorating the walls in splatters and pooling on the floor. The gust blowing inside scattered ashes across the timber planks in ghostly clouds and slithering out from his mouth like an ethereal snake a trail of smoke followed in his wake. And his cold eyes glowed in the shadows a hellish shade of blue.

He carelessly stepped over various bodies as he made his way to the living room. Quinn and Mercury were already there, keeping a small bleeding and beaten group on their knees.

"Ladies and gentlemen." He leered at the captive vampires, "I hate wasting such a collection of skilled persons such as yourselves. So, you lucky folk have a choice. Work for me," He dropped the cigarette to the floor and crushed it with his foot, "Or be slaughtered where you are." They just glared at him, fangs bared in a unified hiss, "No takers? Well then." He turned to leave and sneered at Quin, "Take their fangs."
"Hold up, Frost." He turned his head at the burly man, one brow raised, "There's something interesting in the basement, but we can't get it open." Quin mentioned towards the half-bloods with his gun, "And no one here is being very helpful." Frost swooped in to the group and clutched a man at the front by the neck,
"Not being helpful? Well, perhaps now you'll help me then." He dug his nails in until blood was gushing out of the wound and trickling from his lips, before throwing him against a wall with a force that cracked it and caused the house to shake. He stalked over and pulled the man's head backwards at on odd angle by his hair so he was choking on his own blood, "Show me what he's talking about."

He was being led down a surprisingly long hallway, they must have been well and truly off the property by now. Eventually they came across a huge, metallic door. It was badly dented, a clear foot shaped depression by the handle. But it hadn't budged. A keypad with numbers and letters was on the wall, but upon closer inspection it had been wiped clean and none of the numbers looked particularly more worn than the others. No matter, if you can't do it, force someone else to. He let his eyes slide over to his beaten and bruised hostage and gestured to the device. When he didn't receive a response, he curled his fingers around the man's still tender neck and rested his thumb at the apple of his throat. Hisses were exchanged as Deacon Frost domineered over the other vampire, a warning threat seeping from his lips,

"I'll ask only one more time." But still he didn't comply, instead spitting a thick, bloody wad in Frost's face. Frost didn't even wipe it off before he slammed the other in to the metal door, an audible crunch tearing through the air as his ribcage was crushed, clawed fingers ripping through his delicate organs and curled around his heart. "I'll stop if you do as I say." Only pained groans and a weak hiss bubbled over his bloody lips. Frost knelt down and steadied the stubborn bastard's shaky gaze on him. "Now isn't this interesting? You really don't want me to have whatever's in there. What makes it so valuable that you think this stupid display is worth it?" He brushed the matted hair off of his face in a mocking show of affection, "Here's the thing, whatever's in there isn't yours, and it isn't your gang's. It's Dragonetti's. And whatever it is, he clearly doesn't want me to have it. But the more you refuse me something, the more I want it. And I have a habit of doing whatever I need to get what I want." He still stared up at him with a defiant glare and sneer. Frustrated, Frost resorted to the other form of persuasion. He brought his face closer, bocking out everything else from the man's view. "You think Dragonetti cares about a slum dwelling fucker like you? He doesn't give a shit about what happens to you. He won't even notice if you go missing, or every other turned bastard that works for him. He just cares about him, and the other fucking so called purebloods. " He removed a hand from the other's face and laid it across his chest and licked his lips, "But me? I can be reasonable if I want to be. But you have to make me want to be." He tilted his head towards the dented door and with a sly smile slowly turned back, "You open that door for me, I'll let you live. You'll be free to go and fuck off somewhere else. "There it was, that little furrow of the brow and the narrowing of eyes. He traced a cross across his heart, "You have my word."

Hesitantly, the man stared at him, before a shaky whisper breezed across his bloody lips,

"5-512." His eyes seemed to suddenly age a thousand centuries and dulled as he let his eyes close in defeat, "The code, is romans 512." Frost patted him on the back before letting the stupid fucker rest against the wall.

When he keyed in the code what he found, was, not in a million years what he expected. The room was painted a soft white with exception to a child's various colourful paintings, with toys and books scattered across the floor, lacy curtains framed a small bed. Apparently unfazed by the goings on outside her door, a small girl sat by her bed, blonde hair that barely brushed her shoulders swayed as she rocked herself. All she wore in the cold room was a pair of long white socks and a nightgown. She sang quietly to a worn plush cat she held in her arms.

"Golden slumbers kiss your eyes, smiles await you when you rise. Sleep, pretty baby. Do not cry, and I will sing a lullaby." But as if sensing something was different, she turned towards the door and stared at him with dull green eyes.

All that security and secrecy, all that effort he went through to find what Dragonetti was hiding, all for some little that looked half dead? She watched him as he circled the room, clutching the cat to her chest. He raked his bloody fingers through his hair, and even when a few drops landed on his already stained cheek she didn't do anything else but stare. But then she spoke in a soft, solemn voice.
"Are you sick too?"

This was the first stranger I'd seen in some time, was I going to move again? But when he started to look around my room I realised he was different from the others somehow. He had scruffy brown hair, and was whiter than me. He was splattered in blood, and he didn't look very happy.
"Are you sick too?" He flashed a smile as he took a seat on my bed.
"Nah, just pale…You ever heard of the name Dragonetti?" I nodded my head, he smiled wider,
"You ever met him?"
"No." "I thought a Dragonetti was some sort of dinosaur." He chuckled,
"Well, in a way he is." He soon stopped smiling and looked around my room.
"You ever been outside kid?"
"No." He turned back to me,
"Well, would you like to? I could take you." I cuddled my cat closer to me,
"I can't…I'm too sick." He leant down and whispered,
"I could make it go away." I raised a sceptic brow at him,
"…With magic?" He returned a brow raise, "Like…how a magician makes people disappear?" He grinned back,
"Kind of. Do you like magic tricks?" I nodded my head. Then he extended his hand, and I weakly shook it,
"I'm Deacon. What's your name?" I smiled back up at him as he helped me up,
"Vivian."
"That's a pretty name, and what's this little guy's name?" He reached down and pretended to stroke the doll in my arms,
"Oliver."
"So do you and Oliver like to come with me? I have this hospital that I own. That's where I help make people better." I nodded a shy yes as he started to lead me out of the room. I walked passed a broken man who watched me sadly as I passed him. He was one of the men that would bring me the occasional sweet with my dinner. I waved goodbye to him as Deacon kept leading me down the hallway. But I didn't see his eyes close or the tears threatening to spill over as he silently prayed that I would receive a quick and painless death. Nor did I hear him release a final solemn sigh as he fell unconscious, never to wake again.

Frost relaxed as he lit up a cigarette, he let his eyes roam along the expanse of bright lights and snow slowly blanket the perfect concrete kingdom from his seat. Quinn entered the room,
"Mercury's taken her to the labs." He let a cloud crawl from his lips and dance around his face,
"Find anything to explain why Dragonetti has a kid locked up in one of his basements?"
"Some soppy story about a human woman he'd been involved with." He grimaced; he'd always hated the prey fetish these purebloods seemed to harbor. Humans were food, maybe at times pets or toys. But never, should they be considered as an equal, because they're fucking not.
"Wipe her records."
"No need man, I found nothing on her. No birth certificate, no citizenships-"
"She can read and write, so check the education system."
"Already did, nothing there either, I even sifted through the missing persons, didn't find anything to worry about."
"So, she's completely off the books?"
"Man, as far as the officials know, she doesn't exist."
"No outside sources aware either? What about the neighbours?" Quinn started to stroke his chin, mocking a thoughtful gesture as he smeared blood on his face, a meaningful grin curling his face,
"What neighbours?"
"Perfect." He rose up from the battered sofa and threw his cigarette down, "Light the place up."

I spent the rest of my childhood in that hospital, under the delusion that what I had was freedom. Once I was healthy enough to walk by myself, I was allowed to wander freely around the labs on the floor I was on but no further. Frost's visits were rare and always enjoyed, but not necessarily missed. Despite my gratitude to a life of not being confined to one room it was another man whom I favoured affections from. He was one of the doctor's from the facility, while the other doctors seemed to chill the air with something that scared me a little, he was somehow different. He was usually the first one there and last to leave. There were times when he wouldn't leave the lab for days. He never really seemed to grow tired despite working for hours straight, he didn't get distracted by the slightest thing, well, not until I started sitting at the opposite side of the desk and staring at him with Oliver in my arms. I started because I wanted to know what he was doing that was so interesting. But it looked incredibly boring. He was so strange, and I was fascinated, perhaps that was the reason why I grew so attached in the first place. At first he ignored me, or at least tried to. But every now and then he would glance up, and usually I would still be there staring, maybe reading a book. He made no effort to get to know me though, so I started mimicking him. While he was hard at work solving whatever medical conundrum he was facing, I was focusing on a book or drawing. When he'd have a drink of the red liquid he kept in a thermos, I'd have a drink from my water bottle. Sometimes I'd even fall asleep there at his desk. Almost a week had passed of this routine before he finally sighed, steepled his fingers together and started staring back. He was the one to give up though, and though his voice was gruff with disuse a gentle smile curled his lips, and he spoke with an accent I had never heard before,
"Alright, what are you doing?" I beamed a grin at him and his attention at last and answered calmly,
"I'm watching you." He chuckled as he relaxed a little more in to his seat,"I've noticed, but come on what for?" I hugged Oliver as I replied with an honest,
"I like you." He furrowed his brow,
"Odd way of showing it." I just sat there and smiled at him. He glanced back at his screen and then looked back at me, though his eyes were completely black there was a sincere gentility there, "I don't have time to play right now, I have work to do." I deflated a little but I managed to mumble a genuine,
"It's okay, I understand." He stared at me for a few more seconds, before slowly he turned back to his screen. A sudden realisation hit me though, and immediately I interrupted in a little voice,
"Um, excuse me?" His smile returned and without even a drop of venom in his voice he turned to me,
"Yes?" I was probably blushing, I probably shouldn't have interrupted but I really need to know,
"What's your name?" His laugh was a deep, drawling sound, then he reached out a hand,
"My name's Vincent." I shook it and smiled, then silently he pressed a finger to his lips in a shush and content for now with just a name I sat in happy silence as I watched him work.

And as years rolled by I grew closer to Vincent, who became more than just a friend, but the closest thing to a father I had ever had. And it wasn't long until I was spending every day with him and he was in charge of all of my tests and check-ups, insisting that he be the one to do it. It was him who would tell me goodnight, play games with me, and he was the one who bought me a CD-player and an Annie disc he apparently found. Though he soon grew to hate that disc and eventually bought me a few more just for some diversity. Often I would be found to be sitting in his lap reading a book as he worked, well, until I was too big anyway. And he wasn't shy about hugs. I learnt all sorts of things about the world through, and one day he even told me about what the 'earlier days' of the Midwest were like.
"How long ago was all this, Vincent?"
"Oh, that was back in the 1890's."
"You're really old!"
"Not as old as some. But I will tell you this, medicine has come a long way since I was a boy."
"What was your family like?"
"Well…Do want to know about my parents or my wife and daughter?"
"You have a wife? And a daughter?"
"Well, had, had, love. Past tense." "Alice was my school sweetheart until I finally had the courage to propose to her. She was, well an interesting woman of that age, very independent and feisty. Our daughter Eva, turned out to be exactly like her."
"How long has it been since you've seen them?"
"A…Well a very long time." His eyes lose their luster and a sad emptiness slides over them."They…They weren't ever like me or the other doctors here. I made a mistake, and I paid for it." He quickly clears his throat, straightens himself and smiles down warmly,"But it's all water under the bridge now and I just have to focus on what I do have, and I have you to look after don't I?"

Come to think of it, I guess my childhood was pretty good all things considered. I mean, I did have Vincent. But that innocence and naivety that I held for my situation would be torn from me on the day I would celebrate being approximately eighteen.

I was barely even awake when I heard voices outside of my little glass room. I only had just managed to stand when an all too familiar man walked in, blue eyes shining bright with excitement. But I didn't like the way the air suddenly grew icy and still as he neared. Or that smile on his face. Something was off and I knew it. Silently I stood there, as tension seemed to pour out of me and in to him.
"What, no hello?" He chuckled as he stopped just in front of me and whispered, "You're almost there, Vivian. Almost there." He started clapping slowly…and the doctors locked the door…They've never locked the door before. "Congratulations! You've made it to the final stage of your treatment!" I didn't like the look in his eyes, or the way he was licking his lips, "Not many of the others did, I'm glad you didn't disappoint me…yet."
"…There are others here?"
"Always have been, kid." He smiled as he glanced me over, "You know, you're dressed exactly the way you were when I found you." He licked his lips again as his eyes began to roam along what skin I was showing, "Kind of adds meaning to this special day though, yeah?" Then I saw them, glinting dangerously, just peeking out from under his lips. Fangs. "Happy birthday." And then all I could feel was pain, burning everywhere and I could feel-literally feel his venom crawling its way through my system. And something else, something else was happening, and as I trembled and lay on the floor in a pool of my blood I watch his feet leave the room, and even as the doctors laid me on to my back and attempted to stop the bleeding, as Vincent fervently asked me if I was okay repeatedly, begging that I would answer him, as a new intense hunger burned through me, I watched those feet until they disappeared.

Like magic.

Then the dark took me. I don't know how long it wad till I woke up. But everything was different. Not just the room, but everything seemed different, wrong almost. Where was I? What happened? I sort of fell off of the strangely shaped bed, and stumbled as I tried to remember how to walk. There was little light, yet it seemed too much. Everything hurt my head, everything sounded wrong, and I swear I could feel the dust floating in the air. And I couldn't yet remember ever falling asleep, or what I was doing before. It was just as I collapsed on to a wall for support that a static voice rang out through the room,
"Vivian? Vivian are you alright?" I know that voice.
"V-Vincent?"
"Vivian, I'm sorry. If I had known, I would have warned you, but I suppose it's too late now."
"Vincent, where are you?"
"Look up here." I looked up further along the concrete wall I was using for support, to find a large window, and Vincent on the other side of it.
"Vincent, why are you up there?"
"I'm sorry, but there was a complication, the serum didn't work exactly as we planned and-"
"We?"
"Well, yes, Frost and I." Frost. I remember now, I remember him tearing me apart. "As I said there's been a complication and well, I'm not allowed down there…and you're not allowed up." "I'm sorry, I truly am, if I had the authority I'd get you out of there in a heartbeat you know I would. But, how do I phrase it. You're, well, you're kind of sick again. In a way you're not really sick, just a little different and we're trying to fix it. Honest, I'm working like a madman up here but in the meantime…You need to rest, and be safe…down there." His voice is strained, emotional, but it's a whirring sound that captivates my attention as a panel from a wall starts moving. "Also," An Iv bag, full of blood emerges. "You uh, you have a few things you're going to have to learn about yourself." Right then, in that exact moment, I hated everything. I hated that bag of blood, I hated this room, I hated Vincent. I hated the man I never met, I hated the parents I never knew, I hated the world for having done this to me. Left me all alone and cold again…But most of all, I hated Frost.

And as time slowly crawled by, I hated him more than anything. I had near worshipped him, the man who saved me from what I thought was a fate worse than death, only for him to take hell to a new level for me. He's changed me. I grew distant from even Vincent as I shrunk in on myself. The concrete cell was icy to the touch and the air bit in cold drafts. I had very little, with only a small thin blanket I always kept wrapped around myself, and Oliver who never left my arms. The only reprieve front the constant cold was the warm blood that would appear from the walls, well, except the blood was always cold when I got it. It was just warmer than the room itself. I don't want to be alone, I'm scared, and I'm cold. I'm not getting better. And it's all too familiar. I spend my days trying to dream of something better.

One night, there is thunking coming from the walls. Then there is warmth as an unseen pair of arms wraps me in a blanket. I blink a few times, to check that I'm awake. Turning my head, I stare in to the deep ink wells that served as Vincent's eyes. He's quickly looking me over, checking my vitals. Then after pulling me to my feet he rushes me down the halls, the lights were off, and everyone must have been dead asleep at this hour of the night. I pass by cells…and what I see there scares me. Men, women, and even a child. And memories of needles trickle in. All of them were ghostly white, all drooling as they watched us pass, a manic, feral glare in their eyes…the child immediately tried to wrench the door off with its little hands, snarling and hissing like a wild beast. Scratches all over his face, emaciated, and angry I stared in horror. And Vincent picked me up and carried me out, but my eyes were fixed on the doors, were these the 'others'? Was I…Was I… My thoughts were interrupted as Vincent burst from the building and threw me in to the back seat of a car. I was still confused, why we were leaving? Why so quickly? He dove in to the front seat and floored it, speeding off down the road. And it wasn't until a loud boom and rumbling sound erupted from behind us and the car jolted I realised why. Turning my head I watched the building crumble as debris crashed around us, completely engulfed in flames. And I could hear the screaming.

Sometimes I swear I still hear them.