Title: Undying Future
Rating: Strong PG-13, maybe R. Violence in parts and some moderate language.
Summary: This story is set in a world of an RPG I belong to where I play as Bloodstorm. Though the character is property of Marvel, all character developments for her are of my own devising. Basically in a possible future, the vampires rule the world, Bloodstorm and a small band of surviving humans and mutants must struggle to bring about a change to ensure the survival of the human race.
Category: Alternate Universe/Action/Adventure/Angst.
A/N: Please Read and Review - this is my first publicised work! Enjoy!
Disclaimer: The character of Bloodstorm is copyright of Marvel. Other characters used in this story are copyright (respectively) of Marvel and DC. BloodRayne is copyright of Majesco Games, Inc.
A chill wind picked up, blowing smoke and ash through the air as Ororo Munroe quietly stalked her way along the abandoned streets. It was just after sundown and she was running late. She picked up her pace and crossed the street passing an overturned car from which her keen sense of smell could still detect the charred flesh of the long-dead occupant. She wrinkled her nose in disgust as she continued down the street. Turning a corner her eyes glanced across at the gutted front of an old convenience store. A couple of bodies lay hanging out of the window, their blood streaking the shattered glass and the garbage covered sidewalk.
As the last rays of the sun dipped down behind the rooftops, Ororo ducked down a small alley where she sidled up to a grimy wooden door. She glanced around and back onto the street as a distant sound filled the air. It was primal and feral; a low-pitched sound of hundreds - thousands - of hungry predators waking to the world they now owned. Turning back to the door she banged on the wooden panels. Her ears picked up the turning of multiple locks within the frame as the door shuddered open only a mere fraction. Her lithe body slipped inside as her eyes adjusted to the gloom. The door was slammed hard behind her as she walked down a small hallway which opened into a large room with no windows.
A handful of dim lamps illuminated the corners of the vast room as she approached a large table in the centre. Movement to her left caused her to pause as a figure stepped out from the shadows.
"Did you get it?"
Ororo took something out from under her jacket. It was a roll of torn and dusty paper. She set it down on the table and turned to the figure who stepped closer to inspect the item. She was a woman in her mid-thirties with short brown hair. Her eyes were deep and betrayed much of the horrors she had seen. She wore tight leather trousers and a biker's jacket that she zipped up to her neck, though she couldn't hide the scar that snaked its way from her covered collar bone to her jaw line.
"I trust you didn't have any trouble obtaining it?"
Ororo took off her jacket and tossed it aside. "Only the usual. We don't have to worry about them anymore though."
The woman unrolled the paper and glanced down on it, trying to decipher the faded print. Ororo looked over her shoulder before she collapsed back into a dusty, moth-eaten sofa. As she rubbed the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes trying to relax there came a loud banging on the wooden door. Ororo jumped to her feet as the other woman moved toward the hall. The banging was persistent as the doorkeeper opened a small slat and glanced outside.
"Let us in! C'mon! Hurry!"
The doorkeeper began to open the door in a flurry of movement as the voice from outside burst his way in and collapsed into the hall. More shouts could be heard from outside along with the low, rumbling tone of growls and snarls. A woman was next through the door, a deep gash to her cheek staining her face and hair with blood. Another figure clawed his way through the door but cried out in pain as he was pulled back by a clawed hand. Ororo rushed forward and clasped his wrist as she tried to pull him back in.
"Don't let go! Plea-ARGH!"
Ororo gritted her teeth and pulled with all her strength as a spray of blood dappled her face. "Hold on Tony!"
The elder man's eyes shone with fright as his grip tightened on hers. She pulled hard and wrenched him through the door as the keeper slammed it shut, chopping a trapped limb off with the force of the heavy door. The limb thudded to the floor and then combusted into a pile of ash. In a lunging movement the doorkeeper slammed his fist into a large button on the wall illuminated the alley outside with ultra-violet light. The vampires outside screamed with inhuman agony as they exploded into balls of flame. Ororo looked up at the leather-clad woman standing over them as the two younger people stood to their feet a saluted.
"At ease," said the woman emotionless. "Report."
The young man caught his breath. "Intelligence was right, they're moving into the city centre and their numbers are increasing. It's not safe to stay here."
Ororo spoke up. "The others?"
The woman with the injured face bowed her head slightly. "Dead...they stayed back to cover our retreat but it doesn't look likely they made it either."
Ororo lowered her eyes and continued to survey the injuries of the man in her arms. She peeled back his blood soaked flak-jacket to reveal a huge gash to his lower abdomen. The old man winced as she gently lowered his jacket down and glanced down at his legs to see a handful of puncture wounds. The man looked up at her feverishly.
"A-Am I going to b-be al-alright?"
Bloodstorm tried to keep her calm as she wiped the sweat from his brow and supported his head on her lap. "You'll be fine, Tony." She stroked his silver-grey hair.
The man chocked slightly as he reached his trembling hand up to touch her face. "H-He alw-wayss lov-ed you..."
Anthony Stark's tired eyes gently closed as the small smile on his pale lips faded. He let out a final breath; a sigh that drained his body of all pain and tension and then he was gone. Ororo gently lowered his head to the ground and stood up, turning to the leather-clad woman who didn't seem at all phased.
"He's dead."
She turned away back to the scroll on the desk. Ororo stepped between the young people and grabbed her by the arm, spinning her round and backing her up against the table.
"I said he's dead!"
"Then he's better of than we are."
Ororo's eyes search the older woman's face for something she could recognise. "When did you get so dark, Kitty?"
The woman turned away and slammed her fist on the table. "How many more times? It's Kat! And you know why I'm so dark, or have you forgotten!?"
Ororo lowered her eyes, catching a glimpse of the gold band on Kat's left hand. She remembered the day well. She and a handful of the surviving X-Men had been ambushed; of all the deaths that day, Peter Rasputin's had scarred his newly married bride the most and since she had become a stern and callous woman. She moved away as Kat refocused her attention to the paper before her. Ororo turned to the two teenagers still standing before them, she nodded and they saluted and shuffled away into a side chamber.
Kat turned from the table and in frustration shoved the paper off the end of the table, onto the floor. "It's hopeless! It's too faded!"
"Don't give up hope. There may still be a way..." Ororo's voice trailed off in thought.
She picked up the paper before donning her jacket and unhitching her sword from a wall display. Her mind drifted fondly to the memory of this sword...this gift. She had accepted it from a dear friend who like so many people in the world had fallen beneath the tooth and claw of the vampire menace. Shaking her mind clear, she strapped it across her back and turned back to Kat.
"I'll be back soon!"
Kat stepped forward. "Don't be insane - it's after dark! The streets will be teaming with them!"
"Don't worry," Ororo said with a wry smile. "There's no one who can blend in more than me."
To Be Continued...
Rating: Strong PG-13, maybe R. Violence in parts and some moderate language.
Summary: This story is set in a world of an RPG I belong to where I play as Bloodstorm. Though the character is property of Marvel, all character developments for her are of my own devising. Basically in a possible future, the vampires rule the world, Bloodstorm and a small band of surviving humans and mutants must struggle to bring about a change to ensure the survival of the human race.
Category: Alternate Universe/Action/Adventure/Angst.
A/N: Please Read and Review - this is my first publicised work! Enjoy!
Disclaimer: The character of Bloodstorm is copyright of Marvel. Other characters used in this story are copyright (respectively) of Marvel and DC. BloodRayne is copyright of Majesco Games, Inc.
A chill wind picked up, blowing smoke and ash through the air as Ororo Munroe quietly stalked her way along the abandoned streets. It was just after sundown and she was running late. She picked up her pace and crossed the street passing an overturned car from which her keen sense of smell could still detect the charred flesh of the long-dead occupant. She wrinkled her nose in disgust as she continued down the street. Turning a corner her eyes glanced across at the gutted front of an old convenience store. A couple of bodies lay hanging out of the window, their blood streaking the shattered glass and the garbage covered sidewalk.
As the last rays of the sun dipped down behind the rooftops, Ororo ducked down a small alley where she sidled up to a grimy wooden door. She glanced around and back onto the street as a distant sound filled the air. It was primal and feral; a low-pitched sound of hundreds - thousands - of hungry predators waking to the world they now owned. Turning back to the door she banged on the wooden panels. Her ears picked up the turning of multiple locks within the frame as the door shuddered open only a mere fraction. Her lithe body slipped inside as her eyes adjusted to the gloom. The door was slammed hard behind her as she walked down a small hallway which opened into a large room with no windows.
A handful of dim lamps illuminated the corners of the vast room as she approached a large table in the centre. Movement to her left caused her to pause as a figure stepped out from the shadows.
"Did you get it?"
Ororo took something out from under her jacket. It was a roll of torn and dusty paper. She set it down on the table and turned to the figure who stepped closer to inspect the item. She was a woman in her mid-thirties with short brown hair. Her eyes were deep and betrayed much of the horrors she had seen. She wore tight leather trousers and a biker's jacket that she zipped up to her neck, though she couldn't hide the scar that snaked its way from her covered collar bone to her jaw line.
"I trust you didn't have any trouble obtaining it?"
Ororo took off her jacket and tossed it aside. "Only the usual. We don't have to worry about them anymore though."
The woman unrolled the paper and glanced down on it, trying to decipher the faded print. Ororo looked over her shoulder before she collapsed back into a dusty, moth-eaten sofa. As she rubbed the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes trying to relax there came a loud banging on the wooden door. Ororo jumped to her feet as the other woman moved toward the hall. The banging was persistent as the doorkeeper opened a small slat and glanced outside.
"Let us in! C'mon! Hurry!"
The doorkeeper began to open the door in a flurry of movement as the voice from outside burst his way in and collapsed into the hall. More shouts could be heard from outside along with the low, rumbling tone of growls and snarls. A woman was next through the door, a deep gash to her cheek staining her face and hair with blood. Another figure clawed his way through the door but cried out in pain as he was pulled back by a clawed hand. Ororo rushed forward and clasped his wrist as she tried to pull him back in.
"Don't let go! Plea-ARGH!"
Ororo gritted her teeth and pulled with all her strength as a spray of blood dappled her face. "Hold on Tony!"
The elder man's eyes shone with fright as his grip tightened on hers. She pulled hard and wrenched him through the door as the keeper slammed it shut, chopping a trapped limb off with the force of the heavy door. The limb thudded to the floor and then combusted into a pile of ash. In a lunging movement the doorkeeper slammed his fist into a large button on the wall illuminated the alley outside with ultra-violet light. The vampires outside screamed with inhuman agony as they exploded into balls of flame. Ororo looked up at the leather-clad woman standing over them as the two younger people stood to their feet a saluted.
"At ease," said the woman emotionless. "Report."
The young man caught his breath. "Intelligence was right, they're moving into the city centre and their numbers are increasing. It's not safe to stay here."
Ororo spoke up. "The others?"
The woman with the injured face bowed her head slightly. "Dead...they stayed back to cover our retreat but it doesn't look likely they made it either."
Ororo lowered her eyes and continued to survey the injuries of the man in her arms. She peeled back his blood soaked flak-jacket to reveal a huge gash to his lower abdomen. The old man winced as she gently lowered his jacket down and glanced down at his legs to see a handful of puncture wounds. The man looked up at her feverishly.
"A-Am I going to b-be al-alright?"
Bloodstorm tried to keep her calm as she wiped the sweat from his brow and supported his head on her lap. "You'll be fine, Tony." She stroked his silver-grey hair.
The man chocked slightly as he reached his trembling hand up to touch her face. "H-He alw-wayss lov-ed you..."
Anthony Stark's tired eyes gently closed as the small smile on his pale lips faded. He let out a final breath; a sigh that drained his body of all pain and tension and then he was gone. Ororo gently lowered his head to the ground and stood up, turning to the leather-clad woman who didn't seem at all phased.
"He's dead."
She turned away back to the scroll on the desk. Ororo stepped between the young people and grabbed her by the arm, spinning her round and backing her up against the table.
"I said he's dead!"
"Then he's better of than we are."
Ororo's eyes search the older woman's face for something she could recognise. "When did you get so dark, Kitty?"
The woman turned away and slammed her fist on the table. "How many more times? It's Kat! And you know why I'm so dark, or have you forgotten!?"
Ororo lowered her eyes, catching a glimpse of the gold band on Kat's left hand. She remembered the day well. She and a handful of the surviving X-Men had been ambushed; of all the deaths that day, Peter Rasputin's had scarred his newly married bride the most and since she had become a stern and callous woman. She moved away as Kat refocused her attention to the paper before her. Ororo turned to the two teenagers still standing before them, she nodded and they saluted and shuffled away into a side chamber.
Kat turned from the table and in frustration shoved the paper off the end of the table, onto the floor. "It's hopeless! It's too faded!"
"Don't give up hope. There may still be a way..." Ororo's voice trailed off in thought.
She picked up the paper before donning her jacket and unhitching her sword from a wall display. Her mind drifted fondly to the memory of this sword...this gift. She had accepted it from a dear friend who like so many people in the world had fallen beneath the tooth and claw of the vampire menace. Shaking her mind clear, she strapped it across her back and turned back to Kat.
"I'll be back soon!"
Kat stepped forward. "Don't be insane - it's after dark! The streets will be teaming with them!"
"Don't worry," Ororo said with a wry smile. "There's no one who can blend in more than me."
To Be Continued...