Chapter 6. By the way, happy birth day Shadowshaveoffedened. Happy birthday to me, too. At the finish of the story I'll tell you all my age. If I told you know, you might think worse of my story.

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"Really?" Orithian asked. He looked at the pistols. Nine millimeters, likely.

"Who are you ?" Selene asked.

"Andrew Wesley Orithian," Orithian said, not seeing any harm in that.

"Who are you working with?" Selene continued.

"I think I told you I would not tell you?" Orithian said. "I signed a disclosure." Selene moved her hand, pulling the trigger one of her pistols. Orithian moved like lightning. He batted one gun away, grabbd it and twisted it. He kicked the other hand and the pistol clattered away. He used a martial arts move to trip Selene, flexing his left wrist and a tiny .22 pistol slid out of his sleeve, loaded with tracer rounds, fatal to vampires. He pinned her down and put the pistol under her throat. The whole take-down took three seconds.

"What is it with you!" Orithian shouted. He pushed harder with the pistol, jabbing her in the throat somewhat. "You have a bad day and decide to shoot someone?" Selene didn't speak for a second.

"Now I know you're not human. No human could have done that," Selene said.

"That's right. I was bitten by a vampire, and took a while getting the cure. And when I bitten by a lycan, the cure we have for that is only somewhat effective," Orithian said, not letting her up.

"So you're an abomination, a hybrid," Selene said, not showing any worry.

"I'm an abomination? You're a vampire intent on genocidaly eradicating lycans, monsters fighting monsters. Now you are all alone. A lousy way to die." Orithian asked. Selene looked up at him fearlessly.

"We all, die, alone," Selene choked out. "That's how the stories end for people like me, for people like you." Orithian growled and pulled back the hammer on the small pistol. Selene closed her eyes in anticipation of the shot. Orithian froze. What am I doing? He thought suddenly. I'm about to kill a woman! He slowly clicked the hammer back, and stood up. Selene looked up at him, a vulnerable woman for a second. Orithian turned away.

"You immortals are like that. So not caring. So cold, heartless." Orithian said. He placed his hand on his neck, comforted by the warmth he felt, human warmth. "I am a person." Selene got up and retrieved her pistols.

"What, I should adopt your life philosophy?" She asked. Orithian looked at her.

"You immortals care nothing of life. And yes, we often die alone. But when I lay bleeding to death in an alleyway, I'll know my sacrifice made a difference. That I protected people. That I did something good!" Orithian said. Selene looked away.

"But when you die, which you one day will, immortal or not, what will you tell your maker you did with your life?" Orithian said. Selene didn't speak.

"I was once at a battle scene. A destroyed lycan den The vampires hewed the corpses of lycan infants. You're not waging a clean war. It is fighting, then genocide when the chance comes. We guardians kill murderers and guard the innocent. Why do you kill them? For fun?" Selene looked up slowly.

"The lycans killed my family." Selene said softly, a tear running down her cheek.

"Several lycans killed your family! You would blame a species of creatures for the actions of a few? You're family is dead, and you've have spent two hundred years in an empty existence slaughtering a race under the excuse of revenge when you know full well that the lycans that killed your family died long ago!" Orithian said. "I am an abomination? Look in the mirror!"

He stopped for a moment. The young man looked away, staring into space. When he turned back, the anger was gone, replaced by a look of grief. He said quietly, "I'm sorry. But life is short, Selene. Then one day… it's gone." With that, the guardian got in his car, and left, leaving the death dealer to her thoughts.

Orithian somersaulted forwards into the hallway and fired pistols from both hands, nicking the target dummies precisely in the faces. He moved smoothly, disarming another and using it as a human shield as he fired at others. Forget it. I've done this so many times. Orithian thought. He unloaded the guns, walked out of the training course, and put them back in the armory. The armory was one of three in the base. Basically a 10' wide by 25' long rectangular room, with the alcoves in the walls. There was every weapon one could need. Swords, spears, handguns, sub-machine guns, sniper rifles, heavy-duty machine guns such as SAWs, various assault rifles.

Hoot was helping Michael at the shooting range. Orithian walked up quietly as Michael carefully fired the silenced rifle. The silhouette had holes in his legs, shoulders, chest. Orithian stood behind Michael. Phut phut. Michael reloaded.

"Not bad," Orithian commented. Michael was startled and nearly dropped the rifle.

"I didn't here you coming," He said. Hoot smiled.

"No one ever does," Hoot said.

"Sometimes I think I am dissolving, turning into a ghost or something," Orithian said. He reached for the gun. "Mind if I try?" Michael gave up the gun. Orithian raised it to his shoulder and fired six times in two seconds. All the rounds made a clean hole in the target's head, millimeters apart. Michael stared. Orithian handed it back. "A bit of a heavy gun. Hoot, try him on pistols. Give him a glock." Orithian looked at Michael. "Glock is a good pistol." Michael shrugged.

Orithian had talked with the commander about why the lycans were after Michael. They decided to not tell him. Orithian had also left out his run-in with Selene. Orithian went over to the drinking fountain and quenched his thirst. Mid-way through his drink, the overhead lights turned a shade of green. Hoot's coat gave off an eerie glow, as well as Orithian's clothes. A calm voice came over the overhead speakers.

"Lycans have invaded the base. This is not a drill. All non-security personnel please make their way to the panic rooms. All security forces arm and repel invaders. This is not a drill," the calm voice said. There was a squeak of static as commander Garrison got on the intercom.

"We have nearly two dozen invading lycans. The top floor offices have been trashed and they have not found the entrance yet. All office workers have been killed by the lycans we believe, we can only tell so much from cameras. Get armed and ready! It's the real thing, people!"

Orithian looked at Hoot, who was calm, and Michael, who looked slightly nervous. "Hoot! Stay out of the action! Protect Michael! Michael, stay with Hoot. He'll keep you safe. I am going." Orithian darted out of the room, and to the armory, along with a dozen other fighters. He grabbed his favorite, the mp5. Then he considered something. 24 invading werewolves and I am about to grab a 9mm weapon!

"Invading lycans?" One man said as he selected a rifle. "Dear God." Orithian looked at him.

"I think we need God on our side right now, don't you?" He asked the man. He was silent.

Orithian threw the submachine gun back and heaved a enormous M60 of the shelf. It was a gas-powered heavy machine gun firing a 7.62 round, for power. He selected a few belts of silver ammo. Each clip held 200 rounds. Struggling from the heavy weight of the gun, he surveyed the room. People were grabbing rifles and grenade launchers. Four seconds later they ran as a team to defend Parabellum.

Once on sub-level one, Orithian took his place behind some cover and aimed the huge gun at the door. Close to forty large weapons were pointed at the main door, which was three men wide. There were other stairwells and such going up, but they were also guarded. There was deathly silence through the huge room. The door shook. "Here they come," a man said softly. A blow rattled it. Another blow dented it hugely. Orithian tightened the grip on his weapon. The door suddenly exploded inwards. A huge, fully transformed lycan stood in the doorway, looking around at all the people, who reacted swiftly. The roar of weapon's firing was deafening.

The fight had begun.

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Okay, now you have it, C6. I will continue the fight, no cop-out on it. Leave a good review. Do it now.

Andrew Fisher15