Disclaimer and Author's Note: I own 2 characters from Blade. Scud and
Deacon are tied up in my closet. HAH! No not really. I just wish they were,
cause...that would be awesome. I don't own ANY characters from Blade. None
what so ever. So sad. But I do own a few characters in this story; if you
don't recognize the name...then they're mine, simple as that. And...this is not
my first Blade fic, but my first to post online. So be nice...please. Um,
basically for my story, I wanted one with Blade, Whistler, Deacon, and
Scud...now I know in real life that's impossible, because Deacon died in the
first one, and Scud died in the second one. So lets just say the movies
never took place yet, kay? And this is Blade...my way...hope you enjoy.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~~*~*~
Chapter 1:
The sky darkened and more people filled up the streets of New York. Nighttime was go-time. And you could see this as you passed local nightclubs because of the site of so many people crowded around outside, trying to get in. Brett Havek was one of them. Her long dark hair was tied into a messy yet stylish bun, and her green eyes were focused on the ground, as her best friend Darlah McKinney stood next to her, blabbering about how great that night was going to be.
The two had just gotten their fake I.Ds from Darlah's cousin, and they were finally going to be able to get out and have some fun. Darlah ran her fingers through her wavy golden locks, and her blue eyes studied her best friend. Darlah had suddenly fallen quiet, and Brett glanced up to meet her gaze.
"Brett, are you okay?" Darlah asked.
"I'm fine," Brett answered, "Why?"
"You just seem..."Darlah couldn't find the right word, "You look so 'blah'."
"Gee thanks." Brett said sarcastically.
Darlah smiled. "No, I don't mean it that way." She said, "You look great, I meant...like you look like something's bothering you."
"D. If something was wrong, I'd tell you okay?" Brett replied.
Darlah studied her friend's eyes, her sincere look. "Okay." She said, "You better."
"I will." Brett assured.
After what seemed like forever, Brett and Darlah finally made it into the club. They walked in and looked around.
"What's this place called again?" Brett asked.
"Um..."Darlah said, "Beats the hell outta me."
Brett grinned and looked around. What was happening in the nightclub wasn't what the 17-year-old thought would be. It was just dancing, and drinking. Brett had thought of sex, drugs, live bands. Nope, it was a DJ. A boring DJ, and the people were just dancing.
"Hell we do this shit at school." Darlah said, as if reading Brett's thoughts.
Brett nodded. "Maybe it gets better." She said, "Lets go get a drink."
The two teens walked towards the bar, brandishing their I.Ds. After getting a drink they've never even heard of they sat at a couple stools. Brett sipped her drink and nodded, it wasn't as strong as she had been thinking it would be. Darlah however took a big gulp, and she choked. She had gotten a different drink.
"It's gone bad." She said wiping her mouth.
The two were having a pretty decent time, and Brett's feeling of doubt (for she had had one) was erased. Darlah had set her drink down, and it sat forgotten by her elbow, which rested softly on the bar. Brett had shared her drink with Darlah and Brett now held the empty glass, spinning it in her hands. All of a sudden, Darlah stopped talking, and her ears seemed to perk up. She jumped off the stool and grabbed Brett's arms.
"Its my song, come on." She said excitedly.
Brett almost didn't have any time to set her glass down on the bar- top before she was dragged away by Darlah. Darlah had always been a good dancer; Brett had taken note of this years back at school dances and whatnot. Brett on the other hand, was very self-conscious, so she merely swayed a bit to the music as she and Darlah stood in the middle of the dance floor. But as a Gloria Estefan song, the rhythm got her, and she soon was dancing with her best friend.
All of a sudden, people stopped dancing, and everyone looked towards the ceiling. Brett stopped like everyone else, and looked around, confusion on her face. She grabbed Darlah's arm to stop her from dancing, she had had her eyes closed, so she could "feel the beat" as she said.
"What the hell?" Darlah asked, opening her eyes.
Before Brett could say anything, the sprinklers came on, but it wasn't water that came out, no. It was a red substance, which Brett recognized as blood. It wasn't cold either, it was fresh, hot blood. Everyone around the two girls started dancing harder now, rubbing the blood over the bodies. Brett stood in shock watching all these people.
"Come on, num nut." Darlah grabbed Brett's hand and dragged her off away from the dance-floor towards the bar.
"Oh my God." Brett said, staring at the people who seemed to be really enjoying this blood shower.
"I think I'm gonna be sick." Darlah said, going to rub her forehead, but as her hand neared her temple, she seen that she was covered with blood. She made an "Urgh" noise in the back of her throat; she did look like she was ill.
Brett glanced at the people on the dance-floor, but they were no longer dancing. They were now staring at Brett and Darlah, and moving slowly towards them.
"Um. D." Brett said, grabbing her friend's blood-covered arm.
Darlah followed her friend's gaze and froze. The people moving towards them had a look in their eyes Brett could only describe as lust, or hunger.
"Holy shit." Darlah said.
She and Brett backed up against the bar as far as they could, and squeezed together, cowering. What else could they do? There was a sudden roar of noise from behind the people. They turned to see a mass of people that looked like a mosh pit. One guy was stuck in there; he was the victim of their beating.
The people nearing Brett and Darlah turned and left the girls forgotten and walked towards the dance-floor again. Darlah rested her hand on her chest.
"Oh, thank sweet Jesus for that man." Brett said, "That poor, poor man."
"Come on, Brett." Darlah said, "We have got to get out of here."
The two started walking towards the exit, but a group of the strangoid people had spotted them. They now were heading towards them.
"Okay, and we're turning to go out the back way." Darlah said quietly.
She and Brett turned, and started walking a little more quickly towards the back exit. All of a sudden, a door was blown open, and a man entered. He was dressed in a long black trench coat, and was wearing sunglasses, even at night, and inside at that. He had a type of gun in his hands, Brett didn't know what it was, she wasn't weapon-smart. But when she felt the man's gaze on her, she suddenly got a pain in her head. She froze, and felt faint. She swayed a little on her feet, and probably would have fallen over if it weren't for Darlah holding her.
"Brett!" Darlah exclaimed.
She took one look at the man with the gun, before turning to her right, and climbing over the bar. She pulled Brett with her, as fast as she could, and then the two crouched behind the bar, Darlah holding her best friend, who looked ready to pass out. There was suddenly a lot of gunfire, and screaming and pounding footsteps.
"Brett, what's wrong?" Darlah asked, trying to get through to her friend, who was breathing hard.
"I don't know." Brett said quietly. "I don't feel so good."
She suddenly fell limp in Darlah's arms. Darlah shook her a bit.
"Brett." She said, "Hey, Bretty."
She lightly slapped her friend's face, but no response. Darlah set her friend lightly on the floor.
"Okay." She said, "Okey dokey now."
She slowly stood and peered over the bar, but something came flying towards her. She let out a small scream and fell back to the ground. The flying foreign object hit the wall and landed on the floor next to Brett's body. Darlah couldn't tell what it was, but she didn't care. She sat back down and closed her eyes. Her head was pounding and the loud booming noises from the guns weren't helping.
All of a sudden, leather-gloved hands grabbed her from behind. She was dragged to her feet, and the hands turned her head, as if to check her neck for something. Then he turned her around to face him. It was the man with the trench coat. The club was now quiet, with dust and smoky remains cluttered around. Small fires had been started.
"Go home." The man said, "Forget about this."
"But, what about...my friend?" Darlah asked, glancing at Brett.
The man looked down at Brett's body.
"Leave her." He said, "She'll be fine. You'll soon here from her."
Darlah started to walk away, slowly backing up. She looked at Brett, and looked like she wanted to protest to leaving her friend.
"Go." The man said.
Darlah turned and ran out of the club, her footsteps echoing off the walls. The man looked down at Brett, who twitched and opened her eyes. She stared at the ceiling her vision blurred. A sudden dark shape appeared above her. She couldn't make it out. She went to ask "Who are you?" but only managed to get out a small noise. She felt herself be lifted up slowly, and then she fell unconscious again. *~*~*~**~*~**~*~*~*~*~*~*~**~*~*~*~*~*~*~* Well, now. I hope you guy liked it, and I would love to receive reviews. I guess flames are welcome...just as long as they're creative people.
The sky darkened and more people filled up the streets of New York. Nighttime was go-time. And you could see this as you passed local nightclubs because of the site of so many people crowded around outside, trying to get in. Brett Havek was one of them. Her long dark hair was tied into a messy yet stylish bun, and her green eyes were focused on the ground, as her best friend Darlah McKinney stood next to her, blabbering about how great that night was going to be.
The two had just gotten their fake I.Ds from Darlah's cousin, and they were finally going to be able to get out and have some fun. Darlah ran her fingers through her wavy golden locks, and her blue eyes studied her best friend. Darlah had suddenly fallen quiet, and Brett glanced up to meet her gaze.
"Brett, are you okay?" Darlah asked.
"I'm fine," Brett answered, "Why?"
"You just seem..."Darlah couldn't find the right word, "You look so 'blah'."
"Gee thanks." Brett said sarcastically.
Darlah smiled. "No, I don't mean it that way." She said, "You look great, I meant...like you look like something's bothering you."
"D. If something was wrong, I'd tell you okay?" Brett replied.
Darlah studied her friend's eyes, her sincere look. "Okay." She said, "You better."
"I will." Brett assured.
After what seemed like forever, Brett and Darlah finally made it into the club. They walked in and looked around.
"What's this place called again?" Brett asked.
"Um..."Darlah said, "Beats the hell outta me."
Brett grinned and looked around. What was happening in the nightclub wasn't what the 17-year-old thought would be. It was just dancing, and drinking. Brett had thought of sex, drugs, live bands. Nope, it was a DJ. A boring DJ, and the people were just dancing.
"Hell we do this shit at school." Darlah said, as if reading Brett's thoughts.
Brett nodded. "Maybe it gets better." She said, "Lets go get a drink."
The two teens walked towards the bar, brandishing their I.Ds. After getting a drink they've never even heard of they sat at a couple stools. Brett sipped her drink and nodded, it wasn't as strong as she had been thinking it would be. Darlah however took a big gulp, and she choked. She had gotten a different drink.
"It's gone bad." She said wiping her mouth.
The two were having a pretty decent time, and Brett's feeling of doubt (for she had had one) was erased. Darlah had set her drink down, and it sat forgotten by her elbow, which rested softly on the bar. Brett had shared her drink with Darlah and Brett now held the empty glass, spinning it in her hands. All of a sudden, Darlah stopped talking, and her ears seemed to perk up. She jumped off the stool and grabbed Brett's arms.
"Its my song, come on." She said excitedly.
Brett almost didn't have any time to set her glass down on the bar- top before she was dragged away by Darlah. Darlah had always been a good dancer; Brett had taken note of this years back at school dances and whatnot. Brett on the other hand, was very self-conscious, so she merely swayed a bit to the music as she and Darlah stood in the middle of the dance floor. But as a Gloria Estefan song, the rhythm got her, and she soon was dancing with her best friend.
All of a sudden, people stopped dancing, and everyone looked towards the ceiling. Brett stopped like everyone else, and looked around, confusion on her face. She grabbed Darlah's arm to stop her from dancing, she had had her eyes closed, so she could "feel the beat" as she said.
"What the hell?" Darlah asked, opening her eyes.
Before Brett could say anything, the sprinklers came on, but it wasn't water that came out, no. It was a red substance, which Brett recognized as blood. It wasn't cold either, it was fresh, hot blood. Everyone around the two girls started dancing harder now, rubbing the blood over the bodies. Brett stood in shock watching all these people.
"Come on, num nut." Darlah grabbed Brett's hand and dragged her off away from the dance-floor towards the bar.
"Oh my God." Brett said, staring at the people who seemed to be really enjoying this blood shower.
"I think I'm gonna be sick." Darlah said, going to rub her forehead, but as her hand neared her temple, she seen that she was covered with blood. She made an "Urgh" noise in the back of her throat; she did look like she was ill.
Brett glanced at the people on the dance-floor, but they were no longer dancing. They were now staring at Brett and Darlah, and moving slowly towards them.
"Um. D." Brett said, grabbing her friend's blood-covered arm.
Darlah followed her friend's gaze and froze. The people moving towards them had a look in their eyes Brett could only describe as lust, or hunger.
"Holy shit." Darlah said.
She and Brett backed up against the bar as far as they could, and squeezed together, cowering. What else could they do? There was a sudden roar of noise from behind the people. They turned to see a mass of people that looked like a mosh pit. One guy was stuck in there; he was the victim of their beating.
The people nearing Brett and Darlah turned and left the girls forgotten and walked towards the dance-floor again. Darlah rested her hand on her chest.
"Oh, thank sweet Jesus for that man." Brett said, "That poor, poor man."
"Come on, Brett." Darlah said, "We have got to get out of here."
The two started walking towards the exit, but a group of the strangoid people had spotted them. They now were heading towards them.
"Okay, and we're turning to go out the back way." Darlah said quietly.
She and Brett turned, and started walking a little more quickly towards the back exit. All of a sudden, a door was blown open, and a man entered. He was dressed in a long black trench coat, and was wearing sunglasses, even at night, and inside at that. He had a type of gun in his hands, Brett didn't know what it was, she wasn't weapon-smart. But when she felt the man's gaze on her, she suddenly got a pain in her head. She froze, and felt faint. She swayed a little on her feet, and probably would have fallen over if it weren't for Darlah holding her.
"Brett!" Darlah exclaimed.
She took one look at the man with the gun, before turning to her right, and climbing over the bar. She pulled Brett with her, as fast as she could, and then the two crouched behind the bar, Darlah holding her best friend, who looked ready to pass out. There was suddenly a lot of gunfire, and screaming and pounding footsteps.
"Brett, what's wrong?" Darlah asked, trying to get through to her friend, who was breathing hard.
"I don't know." Brett said quietly. "I don't feel so good."
She suddenly fell limp in Darlah's arms. Darlah shook her a bit.
"Brett." She said, "Hey, Bretty."
She lightly slapped her friend's face, but no response. Darlah set her friend lightly on the floor.
"Okay." She said, "Okey dokey now."
She slowly stood and peered over the bar, but something came flying towards her. She let out a small scream and fell back to the ground. The flying foreign object hit the wall and landed on the floor next to Brett's body. Darlah couldn't tell what it was, but she didn't care. She sat back down and closed her eyes. Her head was pounding and the loud booming noises from the guns weren't helping.
All of a sudden, leather-gloved hands grabbed her from behind. She was dragged to her feet, and the hands turned her head, as if to check her neck for something. Then he turned her around to face him. It was the man with the trench coat. The club was now quiet, with dust and smoky remains cluttered around. Small fires had been started.
"Go home." The man said, "Forget about this."
"But, what about...my friend?" Darlah asked, glancing at Brett.
The man looked down at Brett's body.
"Leave her." He said, "She'll be fine. You'll soon here from her."
Darlah started to walk away, slowly backing up. She looked at Brett, and looked like she wanted to protest to leaving her friend.
"Go." The man said.
Darlah turned and ran out of the club, her footsteps echoing off the walls. The man looked down at Brett, who twitched and opened her eyes. She stared at the ceiling her vision blurred. A sudden dark shape appeared above her. She couldn't make it out. She went to ask "Who are you?" but only managed to get out a small noise. She felt herself be lifted up slowly, and then she fell unconscious again. *~*~*~**~*~**~*~*~*~*~*~*~**~*~*~*~*~*~*~* Well, now. I hope you guy liked it, and I would love to receive reviews. I guess flames are welcome...just as long as they're creative people.