Hi everyone, and thanks for all the sudden reviews. Almost done with the story, though. It's almost a little sad.
Alliriyan, yes, I have terrible grammer and spelling. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Actually, yes," Orithian's older brother replied. "I am a lycan. And I must say I'm impressed. I never imagined you taking any job more dangerous than working at a law firm." Nathaniel glanced sadly at the two dead lycans. "And it seems you've become extremely proficient at what you do. I supposed you're here for the hostages eh?" Orithian stood back up, keeping his gun trained on his older brother. No, he's a lycan, he coolly reminded himself. He picked up his fallen SC-20K.
"That's right." He holstered the magnum, shouldered the assault rifle, and took out his knife. "So if I could just take Chris here back with me, I can go." Nathaniel sighed, then glanced at the knife.
"I guess that is made off silver as well?" He nodded at the blade.
"Silver mixed with steel, strengthened by small amounts of titanium, yes." He reached for the ropes that kept Chris bound. A sinister voice spoke behind him.
"It seems we now have two hostages instead of one, don't we? Oh, and don't move at all." Orithian sliced through the remains of the rope and holstered his knife, keeping a hand next to the rope. With some luck they thought Chris was still tied. He looked at Chris. The man was looking directly behind Orithian, staying calm. Orithian focused on the reflection in Chris's pupils, seeing detail. A lycan was in the doorway, holding what appeared to be a mp5k, a nine millimeter submachine gun that was incredibly easy to use in close quarters do to the small size. Chris glanced at Orithian, clearly asking if he had seen enough. Orithian flicked his eyes towards the end of the passageway he had come down, telling him which way to run. He glanced at Chris's neck. No bite marks.
Then he spoke. "You know, I thought you were dead. Car went into a lake in Wisconsin, while you were on that crazy film project."
"Trying to capture a werewolf on film," Nathaniel said, remembering it...
"That's right," the other lycan said. "And when he swam to shore, he succeeded, except for the film part. I made him a lycan that very night. How ironic, that years later, I would fight that very lcyan's human brother in an alleyway in Berlin." Orithian remember that very well. But he had been sure he had gotten both. Not sure enough. He thought ruefully. The monster had gotten his brother. Orithian glanced at Chris, giving him a command silently. Orithian removed his hand, and Chris separated his freed arms, snatching the magnum at from Orithian's tactical vest, just as he was told. Chris bolted down the passageway. Orithian expected to be shot. He was not. The lcyan glanced at Nathaniel.
"Go take the other human out of commission. NOW!" The lycan said. Nathaniel glanced sadly at Orithian, and ran down the passageway.
"Chris! One's after you!" Orithian shouted. His brother vanished from sight. Orithian didn't move for a few seconds. Gunfire echoed down the hallway. Orithian desperately wished he had managed to throw Chris a spare magazine.
The lycan with the mp5k took a few steps closer. Orithian got ready to spring. The lycan grabbed Orithian's rifle. To his astonishment, the lycan broke both his and Orithian's guns, and tossed them away.
"You have no idea how much I have looked forward to this day," the lycan said. "What luck for me that you were too sloppy to put a round in my head. But no, you staggered off, totaling forgetting about me. Foolish human." The lycan smiled, revealing large fangs. "Let's have a little match, just you and me. This will me your last fun, before you die." He took out the large knife hanging from the holster that hung, hilt-down, over his the left portion of his chest.
Orithian took out his knife, carefully gauging how fast the lycan probably was. He pushed away the despair over the fact his own brother was a murderous monster, a lycan. And Orithian was almost a werewolf/vampire slayer. Sort of like Billy Sunday's son committing suicide. He laughed aloud at the irony.
"You know," Orithian said, getting a good grip on his blade. "You did do one thing for me, lycan."
"The name's Krauser. The last name you will ever hear." He growled sinisterly.
Orithian smiled blandly. "You took away my fear of death." He lunged forward like a snake, the tip of his knife almost cutting Krauser's throat open. Krauser jerked backwards, then slashed at Orithian's belly. The knives met, throwing sparks from the force of the collision. Kruaser threw a punch at Orithian, distracting his attention for a split second, then he kicked an old supply drum at him. Orithian saw it coming and blocked it easily. Orithian tried stabbing at Kruaser from his right, only to have the lycan grabbed the arm. Orithian grabbed his opponent's knife hand, both fighters trying to drive their blades home. Orithian strained, barely holding off the incoming weapon. To late he realized what happened. The lycan kicked at his foot, sweeping it off balance, knocking Orithian to the floor. The lycan's knife came down. Orithian felt a pain in his neck, and rolled away. He put a hand to his neck. He felt amounts of warm liquid running across his hand, down his arm. With horror, he knew were he was hurt. The lycan had sliced his jugular open. A death sentence. Orithian fell to his knees, trying to squeeze the arteries shut, fighting off the dizziness that was sweeping over him. The lycan smirked, blood on his knife. He took a few steps towards Orithian, holding his knife. "My, how the tables have turned," he said triumphantly. Fury roared to life inside Orithian. He could not let this lycan win! He must win! For Chris! For Michael Corvin! For Garrison! The lycan thrust his knife directly at Orithian's face. He met it, the notched in his knife stopping the oncoming blade. The lycan stopped for a second and stared. Orithian cried out, and swung his knife against the lycan's belly, his neck, and his back. The lycan fell forward, were the once kneeling Orithian had been. The lycan looked up at the dark ceiling of the old room, and howled.
Orithian didn't waste anytime. He rammed his blade into the monstrosities head, the silver killing it. Kruaser fell to the floor. Orithian bent over slowly, ripping the knife from the dead lycan's head. He picked up the knife of his fallen foe, and turned towards the exit, the hall. Medic! He cried out inwardly. What he saw stopped him.
"There is no way my luck is that bad," he said. In the passageway stood three fully transformed lycans. All three, enormous killing machines, eight feet tall. Orithian, with a flourish, raised both large knives in a fighting stance. The lycans growled, and charged. Orithian poised himself.
There was a sudden brraatttt, and the lycans fell, within all shot dead within a span of one second or so. Orithian glanced up. Selene stood there with two automatic pistols, smoke coming from the barrels. Orithian tottered backwards. Selene rushed forward, and steadied him slightly.
"What happened to you?" She asked critically, looking at his cut neck. Of course, she would be no help. No vampires were trained in first aid. Orithian looked at his pure red arm.
"Got in a fight. Old… score to settle," he said, standing, uncertain. "Did… we get the hostages?" Selene looked at him with some concern.
"Last I heard, your team got all back but Michael Corvin." She abruptly changed topics. "You should be dead! A cut jugular should kill any human within twenty seconds at very tops." Orithian looked around.
"Lost my weapon," he said. "Lycan broke my assault rifle…" Selene shook her head, then handed him a pistol. It was a Walther p99a.
"Silver nitrate. One shot should kill." She said. "Are you coming with me?" Orithian forced himself to walk.
"Sure," he said. "Lets go."
Orithian followed Selene. She stalked down tiny passageways, staying away from the main firefight. Orithian touched his neck gingerly. The flesh was regenerating itself. The artery was sealed. He could feel his pulse. He started feeling like he was waking up, the dimness wearing off.
Selene froze. Orithian did likewise. She rounded the corner, an fired her handgun. There was a sound of a body hitting the floor. A few more shots. Orithian moved forward, regaining the correct stance. Selene was standing on a dead lycan, firing a few more shots into it, hissing… in joy?
"Orithian! Selene!" Michael said. He was bound to some sort of experimenting table, which was vertical. Orithian yanked at a cord. It did not good. Michael caught sight of Orithian's blood-red clothes, now soaked very dark black. "What happened to you!" Michael asked. Orithian shot at one chain. It gave way.
"Roadrage," he said. Michael have him a strange look. Selene fired at the other chain. Michael rubbed his wrists and arm. Then Orithian noticed. "Dang."
"What?" Selene said, then saw it. Clearly, at the base of his neck, was a bite scar. Lycan bite scar. Orithian glanced at Selene. The hand with the gun strayed upwards, in Michael's direction. Orithian took a small syringe out of a pouch in his vest.
"It's okay." He said quickly. Couldn't have a death dealer killing a marked hostage. "We have the cure for lycan bites. We just have to get him to the medics." He injected the substance near as he dared into Michael. Michael cringed.
"What's that?" He asked.
"Anti-viral," Orithian said. "Extends the amount of time by nearly 12 hours that we have to cure you from becoming a lycan." Selene glanced at Orithian, unsure.
"Lead the way out." Orithian said, making each word a command. She glanced at Michael, and started jogging down a passage.
"This way," she called. Michael took of following.
"Go, I'll catch up," Orithian shouted. They took off down the pasageway. Orithian glance around. On a small table. Needles. He looked closer. Blood was in a syringe. Silver bullets, the ends dented in. Some surgical instruments. Nothing of importance. He took off down the dark passage, following the other two.
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I hope you liked the chapter!