My story starts like most, with a girl. Not a romantic story, as you might think. She was my student; I was her teacher, in a way. I was her Watcher. She was a Slayer Potential and I was charged with teaching her the ways of the Slayer. That way, she could give her life for something she didn't choose, and I could watch her die someday. I just couldn't accept that. So, instead of teaching her the ways of solo combat, I worked with her, teaching her about killing and at the same time, teaching myself about teamwork.
She wasn't ready.
On one particular night, the two of us decided to go out and patrol. That was the second biggest mistake of my life. We were ambushed by a particular group of vampires that we'd been hunting for a while. There were too many, so I told her to run for it. That was the biggest mistake. I defeated all the vampires and was walking home and found her dead body, limp, lifeless, and completely dry. After that I left the council and went into school counseling as a profession in The US.
But, after the watcher's council was destroyed, I felt it was my duty to take up my old job. So I took on a young southern girl, named Kansas, as my student. We sat there in a local club, called the Jade dragon. It was an Asian club, loud music, neon signs, not much to my interest, but then again, I'm not a teenager any more. I sat there, watching, sipping on my scotch.
There she was, out there dancing, acting like a normal, every-day teenager, not a care in the world. But she was on a mission. It feels like yesterday, I was doing this same thing, in the same type of play, only with another girl.
"It won't happen like that again," I said to myself, "I'm smarter now." I took another sip of my drink.
As I glanced over to the dance floor I could see her, leading someone by the hand.
That's my girl.
I took another big draw out of my drink, and stood up, fixing my coat, and walking toward the door.
Just another night.
That's what I kept telling myself. But something seemed weird tonight for some reason. As I sat there sipping on my coke, I couldn't help notice how weird people smelled tonight. It's weird, when you can smell something different about a place when something is wrong. I suppose that's a highlight of having inhuman sense of smell.
My name is SCOT, and my story is a little different than most. I didn't grow up in a little town in the south, or have loving parents. I don't even remember one thing from my childhood, if I even had one.
From what I know, I grew up in a tube…a test tube. I was the first of a new breed of wartime technology. Shape Changing Organic Technology, or otherwise named, Scot. Ironically I'm not a very violent person. I have managed to stay out of trouble since my escape.
"Heh, escape, that's a good word for it," I mumbled to myself between drinks. I wasn't treated badly at the lab. I wasn't maltreated, and I defiantly wasn't malnourished. The thing I didn't like was, there was no adventure. I was just a prototype, so I was never allowed out of my sector. I knew no one. And everyone was so secretive and safe around me. One day, simply put, I just left.
Everyone here just seems so gothic, tonight.
"Ma'am," I flagged down one of the waitresses, "can I get another coke, please?"
"Sure thing babe."
What am I even doing here? I asked myself. I don't ever do anything but listen to music and drink coke. But here I sit, every night, same place, same table even. I must be their best customer.
But then it happened. It started with a simple scream.