"Wait. Don't you know? I'm the defensive player of the year."

- Claire (to Flint and Knox) (It's Coming)

Part Fifteen:

A figure regards the fallen girl from the shadows. Her body is like a flower that had sprouted up in a cracked side walk, only to be trodden upon and waste away like its surroundings. A forlorn and desolate image though that is, it retains a sense of hidden beauty that can be found like in the girl even now in death. Perhaps it is the look of determination that is forever etched into her features even though life has left her and she will fade away like a forgotten dream in time.

It is a curious expression to wear when one tumbles to their end, and truly intriguing at that, for it begs the question as to what made her wear such a look before her youthfulness was untimely snatched away. The only clue that remains is her eyes which now stare upwards unseeingly into the twilight that is quickly falling on this bustling city. Even that reveals nothing but ignites speculation that may never be satiated.

But then, that is how it often plays out. The figure had become accustomed to this over the many years. And in the end it was irrelevant. By these hands or from an external influence, it didn't matter. This fate was sealed before she fell over the edge.

The figure silently moves forward, an approach that is both analytical and animalistic. It steps right into the still warm pool of blood that has formed into an outline around the lifeless form. Kneeling down, reaching out, touching, cool against cooling. Her body is easily picked up and slung over one shoulder as the phantom of the night moves deeper into the shadows and away from prying eyes.

And then something happened that shouldn't.

…A heartbeat.

The first breath comes whisper soft, barely detectable. Shadows flit behind lids, darker than the black that surrounds. Slowly it takes shape, the background lighting. The next breathe comes in deeper as the body remembers itself, the haze clearing. Eye lids flutter open only to see the world flipped.

And I remember everything.

With a gasp I find that I am not incredibly disoriented but upside down when my attempts to right myself accomplish nothing. My waist is held down on someone's shoulder in an iron grip, thus explaining my unusual position but not this predicament. Then I find myself unceremoniously being dropped to the ground. Beginning to push myself up, I stop and sit back on my knees as I hold up my hands, flipping them one way than the other. Relief shoots through me. I'm a mess, but I'm alive. It worked. I made it. I look up to the building I tumbled off of. I don't see Elle or the Haitian. I'm safe for the moment but for how long I don't kn- ….wait… then who…?

My attention is immediately reverted back to the figure that stands in the shadows. "Hello?" My voice comes out a little more tentative than I meant it to. Still wary, I stand, facing it. "Who are you?"

No reply.

This tall person's head tilts to the side, smirking and simultaneously revealing a row of perfectly white teeth. My eyebrows furrow as my sight became more accustomed to the limited lighting here. Apparently a man, for the darkness is a stark contrast to the pale skin of his face and his revealed chest by a jacket carelessly left unbuttoned. I make out light hair that is messily pulled back but the face remains obscured.

A multitude of questions on my lips and demands of explanations lie frozen on my tongue. Something… there is something… A shiver crawls down my spine, reminiscent of another I had earlier today. "What do you want?" While I ask, my eyes rove, searching for an opening if it comes to running.

"Who am I?" A deep voice mimics. "What do I want?" Circling me from the shadows, he blocks the only way out, coming closer. I step back, flattening myself against the wall and leaning away from the pale hand he reaches out toward me. "And who are you?" He asks as his ice cold touch delicately traces the regenerated skin shown by a tear in my clothes at my shoulder.

I shudder at his touch, slapping his hand away. "Don't touch me!"

He makes a noise akin to a chuckle and then moves faster than my eyes can follow. Seizing my wrist, he twists, silencing my cry by being hurled into the opposite wall. Blacking out for a second, I find myself pinned to the side of the brick building, my feet dangling. I struggle but all my efforts are futile against his impossible strength. He pays my demands for release no attention, completely absorbed as he watches the bones mend in my wrist and every open mark seal.

He then takes my once injured hand and raises it to his lips like I was a fine lady and he was a gentleman. But instead of kissing it, his tongue darts out, licking off the trickle of blood that remains. He then closes his eyes as if he were savoring some exotic flavor.

In horror, I take the same hand he had just licked and make a fist, swinging it into his face with as much force as I could muster.

No reaction. His face didn't even move. It is I instead who reacts, clutching my hand to my side as one would if they had just punched a boulder. More of those white teeth are revealed when he smirks at my disbelieving face and tilts his head up to face me. My own expression quickly changes when I lay eyes on his for the first time.

I find my voice erupting up from inside me, a scream about to issue forth. The next moment his hand is over my mouth, and his body pressing so hard into mine I can barely breathe. I bite down, but it too is like trying to harm a rock, solid and unfeeling. It only hurts myself and doesn't make him budge an inch. It doesn't even make his gaze, the one that I now wish had remained in shadow, turn away. Instead, the hypnotic blood red eyes ensnare me, confirming this is a nightmare come to life.

All sound seems to be trapped somewhere deep within me, dissipating as soon as it came, so that when his hand comes off my mouth my lips only tremble. That hand moves down to brush my hair from my neck with a reverence, his fingers leaving an icy trail that almost seems sensual, making me stiffen.

I feel myself on the brink of descending into a mindless panic. I'm without a constant, almost believing that this is all some horrible delusion my stressed brain has conjured. He evokes a heightened sense of helplessness that threatens to consume me and push all rationality aside, like a monster version of another who had a similar hunger only a year ago and tried to have his way with me. Brody, how I wish I was only dealing with him now for I cannot truly read this person's intent or the extent of his power.

For his callous nature, abhorrent touch, impossible strength and speed…eyes…it just doesn't seem real. In the world I have tried so hard to blend into this does not exist. But I know in mine the unexplainable happens, for I am testament to that. Clearly he just witnessed that I am different, and I know he is not ordinary. Could he be like me, a special? That seems to be the only plausible explanation.

Disgusted as I am at the thought that I could have any similarities to him, I know there had been others who have had abilities, who have used them wrongly, Sylar for instance. And then, if I were being fair I would admit that there had been nothing special about Brody as far as I was aware and look at what he had done.

There is just something about him that is so…inhuman. Even if he had a power similar to Peter's or Sylar's, how does that explain the red eyes or the pale icy skin that is like-

Everything in my mind quiets, save this one thought.

Another similarity is found, but not one shared with me.

My voice gains strength with this pressing need to know just as anxiety builds in me over the answer I may receive. "What are you?"

He pulls back, coldly appraising me. "For someone rather unique you ask the same mundane questions as all the rest." Nonetheless, sounding bored, he reiterates my previous questions. "Who am I? What do I want? What are you?" Leaning in again, he whispers, amusement coloring his tone. "Haven't you figured that out yet?"

He places his lips at my throat as he answers one of my questions for the first time.

"I'm a vampire."

Then he bites me.

This has no precedent. In the past, even in the most seemingly bleak scenarios, I still had some power in effecting the final outcome. Now everything I seem to try is useless. All my attempts to free myself fail. I can't even hurt him. I'm crushed on the side of the building, unable to breathe in enough to even call for help. My mind barely seems able to wrap around the reality of this situation.

All reason is screaming at me that this shouldn't be happening, that vampires do not exist. But a pair of fangs sunk deep into the base of my neck silences that voice. The skin there begins to cool as the blood flows from my body. With it, I feel the beginning of my energy ebbing as a full blown panic sets in.

I've fallen from great heights, been electrocuted, shot by a gun, set aflame, broken my neck, cut open on an autopsy table, and crashed a car into a wall at 70 miles per hour. I've experienced pain. I've died more times than anyone should. Death would have had me long ago if I were normal. Already several times today it should have claimed me. I should have died from all of Elle's electricity and again from the fall. Even now I haven't succumbed to blood loss, my regeneration working to produce more blood to compensate.

And for all the second chances at life I've received, I know the supply of these can't be infinite. Which will cease first, the vampire, or my ability? What are my limits? Could it even combat the supposedly mythological? If so, for how long I wonder, because even now I am feeling the effects as my fists grow heavy to slow my attempts to free myself.

This feeling, it is strange. The more blood of mine he drinks, the heavier my eye lids seem to become. For a moment, I swear there are dark fringes at the corners of my vision. It is like a fog is creeping up, making me legarthic in mind and body. Only when I stare it down and concentrate, it fades slightly. My vision will go blurry then just as suddenly clear, like I'm tight rope walking on the border of consciousness and oblivion.

It seems like I'm going to find out what my limits are, even the unexpected kinds regardless of their unlikelihood. If it were simply him taking my blood then there might not be much of an issue for my regeneration, but something foreign is injected into my body that my ability has to battle in addition to making up for the loss of blood.

Where his fangs are inserted, a burning sensation starts. Tendrils of fire scorch my veins, spreading a white hot agony that grips and does not relinquish. Nothing in memory could come close in comparison, pushing my perilous situation away from the fore front of my mind. The hard brick at my back isn't there. The evening sky is nothing but a sweet dream. His icy grip now feels like nothing more than a slight breeze against my skin, and I wish he would pin me down by my throat to ease this burning. There is nothing but this fiery poison which threatens to consume like a fevered dream that will obliterate the very fabric of me.

And just as suddenly as this attack has come, it ceases. His grip suddenly goes slack, releasing me. All strength sapped, I slump against the wall. I curl up in a ball, hugging my knees to my chest as I try to keep myself from hyperventilating. My heart beats loud in my ear as my regeneration quickly seals the twin puncture wounds at my throat. The fire in my veins is erased as soon as it came once more blood is produced to make up for the drastic loss.

I am fine again, at least physically.

One unsure hand wipes sweat drenched hair from my face. I look to see my attacker stumble backwards with hands clutching at his chest and a look of shock on his face. Then a series of spasms start to shake his body. As if his legs simply stopped functioning, he falls over into the last rays of the fading Sun that somehow manages to reach this enclosed alley.

I think I'm numb to shock at this point. Despite the incredible sight before my eyes of his sparkling skin, I have little reaction; instead, the nausea ceases, my heartbeat slows, and I gain control of my breathing. This is just conformation of something I already have become quite aware of: he is definitely not a special; he isn't even human.

I stand up, keeping my back to the wall and never taking my eyes off this thing that flails on the ground and makes strange gurgling and rasping sounds like a dying beast. Backing up with the goal of fleeing in mind, I skirt around his reach though he doesn't seem to be aware of my presence anymore.

I turn to run away from this madness and into the city where some sanity might still remain, only to stop when the silhouette of a familiar figure stands at the end of the alley and calls my name.

And guess who it is... ;)

All right, as many of you are probably aware, it is a new school year so that means I'm going to get more busy. Don't worry though, I'll still be working on this when I get a chance here and there. It won't be forgotten. Just know that if it takes me a while to update it doesn't mean that I have abandoned this story. I'll update eventually; I just don't know when that exactly will be. We'll see. Here is to hoping for the best! :)

Thank you for reading and all the encouragement you give me. It is very much appreciated. I always like to hear your thoughts too. As usual, feel free to ask me questions, leave me comments etc. and I'll try to answer them (unless what you're asking contains spoilers :P). I look forward to next time!