Okay, this came out longer than I intended it to be, but I promise Selene and Michael will meet in this century and not in the next. I haven't spoiled it, have I? Please read and review if you'd like to! The story has taken many turns from the moment I thought of it first so anything can happen, I suppose? It's been running off of its own.
Disclaimer: I don't own Underworld nor any of its beautiful characters.
Chapter 5 - The Awakening
Three years previously...
They were weak and vulnerable when the human army found them. Men and women alike were wounded, most of them still had silver bullets mapped out across their bodies. Expelling them out was as painful as the moment they've gotten in. It was what war against the vampires did right every time. One would think all the bloodshed involved more close range action, primal against enhanced strength. It wasn't that way, no. Even within a foot from each other, both species fired guns like their lives depended on it. What a shame it was, especially since a transformed lycan, even a younger one, can easily jump and rip off a vampire's head with that close distance. It was the vampires' fault. It was a weakness they've gotten from them, among other things. They hid behind their weapons. In the past, the older ones had chains that tamed their dogs.
The Lycans' den at least wasn't nearly as ruined as the vampire coven's. They had blasted the windows off of their precious sanctuary like they did with the others. It would take some time for them to rebuild an old castle like that and yet…They ended up having the greater loss.
Take your wounded and leave, the one who was unharmed by the sunlight had said, holding Marius' head by the hair. Gregor shuddered at the memory.
They didn't even let them take it, nor his body, if there was any left to take. It's a good thing they didn't because he wouldn't know what to do with either.
He looked around their camp, finding comfort looking at the faces of his brothers and sisters who were still alive, even if the hope of their long deserved win was once again snatched away from them. They were so close. Marius had been unstoppable. They had conquered coven after coven, all except two. One is impregnable and the other too far and frozen to bend, Marius had said. Let us wait it out.
And so they did. Gregor, along with the younger lycans, were ordered to stay behind when Marius and the older ones went to fight the Nordic Coven. They returned with the news of Selene's death, and Gregor could not have admired the alpha lycan more. There was no stopping him alright, and yet...
The power of regeneration has been bestowed to both species. They were equal in that regard. The first Immortal laid out a balanced ground for his two sons to play on. Some can heal within minutes, others take longer, but it happens. The healing of the wounds would run their course, as with the recovery from severe blood loss, which was a stretch itself, but not impossible.
But one cannot be reborn from the dead. It was a foreign concept even among them. It was more than a stretch, it was the most goddamn insulting form of cheating.
Yet, Selene has done it. Some even say she also had resurrected one of the vampires. How fucking unfair was that? The fight had been equal until it wasn't. And Gregor saw it with his own eyes. Everyone had still been stunned seeing that one vampire unburnt by the sun when they had felt the change come.
It was Selene. But no one knew then that it was her. It was a sudden but strong rush of wind, invisible. In its wake, killing at least a dozen lycans, even knocking Marius out, all with a single long whoosh.
It was unfair.
A sudden commotion from the camp's main entrance brought Gregor back to the present. They were armed men. Humans. He can smell them even from afar and had to restrain himself. It was the curse of the newly turned; their bodies were still too weak to control the bloodlust. The human military were led by three fat men in white suits and one young woman with striking red hair. She wore a white suit too, and looked pale with unease. Gregor could tell because she had taken a quick look around and then moved closer to her male companions.
"We come in peace," said the largest of them as they entered. It was the safest of greetings, a classic. It was also what will kill them. The lycans were just defeated, but it was because of the vampires' doing. If the humans thought they can outmatch them now, then they picked the wrong kind.
The vampires will nibble their neck for dinner, but the lycans...they will devour their flesh, swallow their insides and gnaw at their tiny brittle bones before breakfast.
Gregor gave a start and had to shake his head to clear off the mangy thoughts. He was not a beast.
"There will be no need of another bloodshed. We just want to get what your leader took from one of our labs," the man continued. Slowly, he raised his hand and motion for the armed men at the back to stand down. They did not throw their weapons away but had them lowered now. That was good enough for Ramon, the only one of the older lycans who survived.
"Take whatever it is and go. Most of the horde are young and I will not be responsible if they fail to resist their lust to feed."
The humans looked at each other warily but were determined to get what they came for. They pressed forward then, slowly scattering around to search. Gregor knew what they were looking for, who they wanted back. But what could they possibly do with a dead lycan? Marius' pet was nothing but a bag of flesh and bones now, blood all drained out.
"In here, sir!" Together with the humans, some curious lycans, came rushing to take a look. They finally found Marius's headquarters then, thought Gregor. He had unchained Michael himself, remembering too well how his head crashed on the floor with a thud. He hadn't meant for that to happen and karma was quick on its feet as he then managed to cut himself with the saw he used to break his chains. It was just a small but deep cut on the back of his thumb. But the blood came rushing out anyway, crawling down his forearm to his elbow, where it can go no farther now but to drip away towards the dead and now concussed lycan on the floor. If there was blood left in him he would have bled a great deal from that strong impact. But there was none.
That was just hours ago. He didn't know why it was the first thing he did the moment they arrived from the coven. Maybe he just wanted to be reminded that Marius did succeed in something. If nothing else, he did more damage than Lucian had. He had killed Selene's lycan lover.
That counted, right? It had to. Love has always counted, especially the loss of it.
The bystanders were still milling around Marius's chamber and Gregor couldn't take it anymore. He rushed to take a look at what Marius had called his masterpiece one last time.
Michael lied on the floor, unmoving. What else was he expecting? The slit on his neck had the same length, although the blood that came out of it which covered most of his face and hair has gone dry. Most of it. But there was fresh blood on his mouth. It was distinguishable because the wetness of it shined. He looked like he had just feed.
Gregor felt the hair on the nape of his neck stand up. He recalls another hearsay, a ritual of some sort that the vampires observed every century. It was too ridiculous to be real. What he has to remember is that it doesn't matter if it was in fact true, the lycans could not possibly do it. Not even the oldest of them. They can never cheat a second death. And yet…
He saw rather than felt the change this time. It was slower than Selene's near-teleportation streak, but no less horrifyingly real.
Michael gulped in air and his supposedly dead chest rose. His eyes opened an instant after.
"Just as we had hoped," the fat man said, unfazed. He turned to the young woman, whose face was close to being petrified. "Oh, don't give me that look. Subject 3 is alive, and we haven't even done anything to him yet." He was now smiling. "Now…spray him."
Present time
The Sundals were always out in the field more than anywhere else. And Michael hated it. Especially when he's commanded to keep watch over the training.
Everyone was drenched from the waist up. And why weren't they? The sun's so high up that it's long past their morning warm up. It was now their noontime roast. Their dark olive sleeveless shirts have clung to their skin like spandexes. Spandexi? They all looked hideous. Their arms were slick and shiny with sweat, and their faces were scrunched up, hateful from the exertion. It was lucky that the great heroes of humanity were exposed to the their adoring public only when they're already in their glorious uniforms. And thank god those weren't made of rubber. Who the hell thought skin tight clothing was good for practice fighting anyway?
I know someone who looks good in something like that, Michael thought, momentarily distracted. Stop it, Michael. You're on duty. God, even the reprimanding voice in his head sounded so much like her.
"You didn't mind it so much last night," Katie Smith cut through his inappropriate thoughts as she bumped her shoulder on his.
He turns to her, so much aware of the reddening of his cheeks, thankful though that it was hot enough for his blush to blend in. He wouldn't put it past Katie not to notice though, and sure enough when he looked at her, she was wearing a smirk on her lips. She knows.
"Caught you on dreamland again, eh, dream boy?" She says, teasing. "Or don't tell me you just love putting on your 'disgusted face' all of the time."
"What are you talking about?"
"I'm talking about how you're so repulsed by perspiration due to any activity that's not sexual intercour–" Michael cuts her off with his hand. She was too clever for her own good.
"Would you keep your voice down," he whispers harshly to her face.
She grabs his hand and yanks them down. "Alright, alright." Then she gives him a look. "I am right though, aren't I?"
He tells her the truth with his silence.
"Aha." She was sounding too bright this early in the day. He tells her this.
"Seriously? Who the hell is that woman?!"
"Beats me if I know."
"God, maybe you're just so…I don't know," she takes a pause on her excitement, cautious of the 'don't even think about it' look he was giving her. "…deprived?"
"I do dream about her all fully clothed too, you know," he counters, forcing down an eye roll.
"Right. All jokes aside, don't you really know her?"
"For the thousand time, no, I don't."
"But it's just so...creepy. Don't you find it the least bit creepy?"
"It is weird but," Michael says. He turns away from her, eyes looking at nowhere and thinking, what if?
"She makes me feel like I have another life, you know?" he starts. "That I've lived another life and that I'm another man," he says, looking at her again. "Oh, come on, Katie. You really think this is it? Don't you ever wonder if there's more to us than just being their pets?"
"Okay, now you need to keep your voice down," she grabs his arm lightly and leans in closer, eyes darting across the men on the field.
"It's true. You know it's true." Michael hates his pleading voice but she needs to understand. As the only friend he has here, in this…confinement, she needs to know the importance of his dreams. The hope the beautiful leather-clad woman gave him. Real or not real, she was somebody to him. Or him to her.
His dreams have been more frequent now than ever.
"You are their most prized soldier. The best combatant…well, second to me at least." He smiles at that. "Hell, you wield and swing or shoot every weapon they throw at us like you've been doing it since the moment you first learned to walk."
He stays silent as he stares at her, then he shakes his head, still not saying a word.
"Michael, look at me." Her hands reach out to cup his face. "You belong here," she says simply. He was half tempted to count the spattering of freckles on her pale nose and cheeks. This was the closest they've gotten near to each other.
The thing was, Katie is beautiful. With her long unkempt red hair, green eyes–the kind of green like the water that's close to the ocean's shoreline–and her quick wit…Oh, he has met his match. It was so easy to fall in love with her. Every man in their battalion was. Except for him. He can't be. Not when another woman meets him in his dreams and occupies even most of his waking hours.
"Apart from your dreams, apart from that random woman, there is no tangible indication that you don't."
But you don't know that, he wants to tell her. And she isn't just anybody.
"Remember what we always tell each other? Say it to me now."
She has fangs. Her hands have no claws but her grip is firm. A grip stronger than that of a lover lost in the throes of passion, one that almost shatters his bones and nails that leave scars on his skin.
"Better the devil we know."
And her eyes...Her eyes were blue before turning back to brown. It was the coldest shade of blue.
"That's right," she says with a smile and he nods, playing obedient.
She's a vampire. I'm a long lost lover of a beautiful vampire, he wants to scream the absurdity of it to her.
Instead, he moves away but gives her an assuring smile. "Fawkes needs me, I just remembered. I'll be right back."
"Go. And don't you dare come back without any juicy gossip. I want to know who's screwing who!"
The first thing he notices once he's inside the Sundals' headquarters was an overhead projector. It had been so long since he's last seen one that he stares at it for a while. The CSM couldn't possibly be that old fashioned, Michael thought. Sure, he still uses a flip phone but the military equipments, from the armory to the computer-operated machines in all of the bases of the Sundals were one of the finest and most advanced. The government made sure of that. Well, they had to, didn't they? How else will the human army defeat that of the undead?
"Michael." The old but bulky officer greets him from one end of a long table. "We've been waiting for you."
"Well," he says, feeling awkward. "I'm here." He tells the whole tent at large. He just noticed there were at least six Fawkes staring at him.
The Fawkes he knows, his commander, grins. "He's the one I was telling you about," he says, addressing everyone but him. Michael felt exposed.
"Are you sure, Bill–"
"I am absolutely sure!" he says, hand thumping on the table.
A pause then, "Come, Michael. Take a seat."
Michael wasn't aware he was clenching his fists. I cannot lose control. Even if he knows he can take them all down, he must not forget who he is and where he is.
He takes a seat, lets out a breath.
"Michael, I–we believe it's time you're let loose."
"What do you mean?"
"You'll be heading an operation. A very important one."
Michael remains silent. He doesn't know what to feel. He was ever only allowed to train the cadets, much like he was once trained by his superiors. The skills he acquired he passed on eventually and that was all he has known to do. He wasn't that naive not to know where the trained soldiers go and what they were ordered to do. But Michael is not like them. He will not be the man the Sundals' created to kill.
You are their most prized soldier. If what Katie said was true, then why had they kept him here for so long?
Fawkes stands up, walks over to the projector, positioning the first slide. The ancient thing lights up and dread washed over Michael as he sees the screen.
"This is Selene. I know you and the others are sick of the name so now I'm providing a visual."
No! It can't be.
"You know the drill, Michael." He hears Fawkes as though from far away. His eyes were still on the projected screen and took in everything about Selene. His Selene.
She wore a white coat made of fur on top of the same leather she donned in all of his dreams. She looked like royalty. Her hair was different though but not much. It was a bit longer, bunched up in a high ponytail, and the ends were highlighted in white. Her face was young and beautiful as ever, a breath of fresh air to anyone who looked at her. Michael knew he had to turn his gaze away now but he couldn't. The realness of her had him transfixed and frozen on the spot.
"We just found out she'll be leaving her secure fortress soon. Again. Stupid move if you ask me, she left with her daughter two years ago and our men then were still too weak to defeat them. She killed all 200 of them."
That broke the spell for Michael.
Fawkes takes a pause, then shuts the projector down. "She's quite the looker too, but do not be fooled. She's the most powerful immortal alive. She'll kill you in a heartbeat, Michael." Another pause, then for the second time: "You know the drill."
Yes, Michael knows the drill. He knows it by heart. He just doesn't know if he wants to follow it.
Selene's greatest strength is her humanity. Her daughter reminds her of what she has lost. She's grounded by her love for her and the desire to protect her at all cost. To get to the cold Death Dealer, we must first touch the human within. And the only way to do that is to surrender.
Do not misunderstand me. If faced with their force, fight and kill as many as you can. If you're outnumbered, then that is the only time you will surrender. Ask to be taken to her. She will show mercy. She has to. Because her daughter will hate her if she did anything but. Use this weakness as a way to get to her. Let her trust you. And then, when the opportunity presents itself, break her.
"I won't let you down." That was what the soldier in Michael says to his commander.
His heart however, in the quiet, beats another. Finally. Now, I get to come to you.