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GM

 

June 6th, 10:00pm

 

The Freedom City Subway...

 

At this time, the subways were not exactly full. Well past rush hour, and that time after people had gone out for the evening, but before they came home. It was a twilight hour, busy enough, but not busy. 

 

A group of ten or so people were standing, waiting for the next train. They were of all types, colours, creeds, from a kid of seventeen to a man of seventy. Some were well dressed, some where barely dressed. About the only thing that was common was nervousness. A pacing, a sweat, a fidgeting. Furtive glances. 

 

They were lead by a man with grey hair and grizzled features, tall, but not freakishly slow. Slim but fit. With hard blue eyes, a trenchcoat, a hat, a thick sturdy folded umbrella (despite the lack of rain) and a very visible, slightly worn, crucifix around his neck, on a chain. Another time, such silverware may have made for an attractive target to any subway mugger. But on this day, the man who was wearing it gave of an aura of strength that would deter such foolhardiness. 

 

"All Death must Die" he swore, solemnly, as the train arrived. His followers repeated, with less conviction and gravity than the man. 

 

"And Death is here...I feel it" the man added, entering the subway car. 

 

All this was just about to come. And came to Bloodline is a vision of the future...

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"All Death must Die" he swore, solemnly, as the train arrived. His followers repeated, with less conviction and gravity than the man. 

 

"And Death is here...I feel it" the man added, entering the subway car. 

 

"How do you know me?" whispered a voice, sitting in one of the many abandonned tunnels that spread themselves under the city. "How do you know I'm here?" the figure said, while a big rat squirmed within his grasp. How juicy it looked to him. Gross, but so juicy. The serum flowing inside his vein was slowly running dry, slowly but surely bringing back some long-buried instincts. Then, with a disgusted growl, he tossed the rodent aside, which then scurried away, terrified and squeaking.

 

These tunnels were different, yet familliar. Bloodline had visited Freedom City before but the Freedom City he knew was nothing like the surface world. It was nothing but ash and ruins, with most of it's population living inside these tunnels. An interesting reversal to him; the surface was a peaceful, safer world and these tunnels held unknown terrors.

 

With a shaking hand, Bloodline reached our for his blaster laying on the ground. It made a beeping noise and lit up, indicating energy level and current setting. "I'm running dry, my gun is running dry. What the hell was I thinking?" he wondered out loud, while wiping his mouth. Clearly he had made a mistake by retreating in the shadows, isolating himself from everyone else.

Edited by RobRX
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GM

 

The sewers and subways of Freedom City sometimes felt like an endless maze of disused and crumbling tunnels. Perhaps it even was an endless maze. It was certainly easy enough to get lost in them, and rumours of the perils circulated the urban mythology. 

 

As Bloodline sank into the shadows of these very tunnels, he heard the subway train rumble and screech to a halt. From what he could tell, an emergency stop. In the middle of the subway. 

 

The rat he had let go snarled at him. There was something in those black eyes that felt vaguely unnerving. Something that hissed at him. Then, it bolted away into shadows blacker still. 

 

Footsteps. Lights. 

 

Something, or somebody, was searching for him. The group and the man. 

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With no other options left, Bloodline continued to move further down the tunnels. Thanks to his mutated eyes, he had no trouble navigating those dark tunnels and, in fact, was hoping he'd be able to lose his pursuers by going down the darkest, most treacherous and foreboding tunnels he could find. Hopefully that would make them reconsider the chase. 'And maybe my degenerate self will never find it's way back to the surface' he thought. 'Then again, why am I even running? If they find me they'll kill me if they don't I will become a monster.'

 

As he continued down the tunnel, he felt weaker and weaker. Soon enough, he found himself collapsing. With shaky hands, Bloodline pulled himself up and continued to walk, hoping to fend off his pursuers become he started to smell them more clearly and the hunger got the best of him.

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GM

 

In the old tunnels, half subway and half sewer, the smells were overpowering even to a human nose. For Bloodlines heightened one, it was a wall of stench. Hard to make out one scent from the other. 

 

The tunnels were excellent at echoing and magnifying sound. This was a different matter. 

 

Footsteps. One pair. No...two...

 

Smell...of fear?

 

Two of the group, for they travelled in pairs, approached Bloodline, with walkie talkies and flashlights. 

 

"We found him!"

 

"Stay back, foul creature of Satan!"

 

A crucifix was brandished, and a gun was pulled...

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Bloodline never played fair. If he had learned anything from his harsh timeline, is that playing fair never helped survive. As such, when he spotted the crucifix, he decided to take a gamble. Hissing, he extended his fangs and began to let loose shrieks of pain, as if recoiling in terror from the holy symbol. In reality, no holy power could affect him, at least nothing short of divinity-granted superpowers: that would obviously work as well as on anybody else. Crucifixs, Stars of David, it didn't matter - none of them were an actual weakness to the creature he was. But his hunter was clearly a religious man and expected it to work.

 

"N-no! Aaah!" he shrieked. "Put it awaaaay!"

Edited by RobRX
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GM

 

"We have him!" came the gloat into the Walkie Talkie. 

 

The Crusifix stayed resolutely out, and, growing in confidence, the pair approached. 

 

They were not much to look at, truth be told. Just a man and a woman, everyday people, from the sidewalk or subway. One was an middle aged, slightly rotund woman with dyed blonde hair and a little bit too much make up, the other was an older man in a tweed jacket and staunch hat, with a thin, lined face and eyes widening in astonishment. 

 

"We have him!" 

 

This time, to themselves. To revel in victory. 

 

"We will not stay from our sacred duty, abomination. May God have mercy on what remains of your soul. You are an abomination unto the lord. A creature of darkness, an undead. And Death must Die!"

 

"Death must Die!" repeated the woman, holding the crucifix at arms length and advancing. 

 

The older man was just behind her, an antique but serviceable revolver in his hand. 

 

"Daybreak shall destroy you!"

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'Closer. Just move a little closer.' thought Bloodline as was cursed up on himself, shrieking and snarling, pretending that a mere object, a holy symbol, had any effect on him. 'That's it.' he thought,  as one hand moved down, slowly reaching out for his weapon. 'Just a bit more. More. Closer.' The finger slowly slid over the cold metallic surface of the oversized weapon, then pressed a few small buttons, removing a few safety locks. The weapon jhummed and beeped. With a clicking noise, the front unfurled and opened.

 

"AAh! No, it burn it burn it..." His fangs then retracted and he smirked. "Got you right where I wanted, suckers!" With a loud bang, a discharge erupted from Bloodline's weapon, engulfing him and the his opponents in a blinding burst of energy.

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GM

 

The two hunters were unduly confident, grasping crucifix and gun. 

 

"See how he is powerless before the cross! Daybreak...overestimated the dead! Perhaps I should finish the creature here!" smiled the older man, handling his gun and contemplating the war between orders and glory. 

 

Perhaps he would have decided one way, perhaps the other. In the end, the decision was taken from him. 

 

If Vampires feared light, Bloodline was a curious one. For an instant, the walls and dank water flashed with brilliant light, like a dozen suns. 

 

Crack! came the gunshot, its sound almost deafening in the confined tunnels. Caught by the blast the older man had fired reflexively, but blindly. The bullet ricocheted off the walls. 

 

"I can't see! I can't see!" screamed the woman, bringing hands to eyes. Her clumsy fingers dropped the crucifix into the few inches of water that trickled beneath them. 

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Hopping, wobbling and weakened, Bloodline made his escape during the ensuing chaos while cradling his gun, which was sparking and emiting smoke from the overcharge. 'Great, now I will have to find someone to fix it.' he thought to himself. That weapon had a special importance to him, being a trusty tool and companion. One could almost say he and that weapon had a special bond. That weapon had taken lives, yes, but also saved countless others.

 

'They'll be back for me.' He continued to think. 'Come on. Think. You have to think; you need to throw them off your trail.'

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GM

 

Crack crack! Two more random, blinded gun shots pierced the tunnels. Bloodline could hear the frustrated ramblings of the man and woman he left behind....

 

"why didn't the crucifix work...?"

 

"Why didn't he kill us....?"

 

As Blood line took another turn, all the time aware of the echoes of the hunters that resonated through the tunnels, he came apon a most curious site. 

 

The man was a punk, or looked like it. A little on the short side, a little on the scrawny side. A lot on the ginger side. He was sitting in the tunnel, lamp by his side, and talking to a rat. Something about the rat seemed creepy, and familiar...

 

"Hey punk! what are you doing here! This is my turf! The Filth gang! The hardest, meanest gang you ever crossed, sucker!"

 

Filth, for he was the leader of the gang, certainly looked the part, dressed in ripped denim, studs, and a "limp bizkit" T shirt. Something about him though...it was hard to take him entirely seriously, he just kind of failed an intimidating. But there was something slightly spooky or crazy about him...

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"Huh, filth gang. Yeah, I guess the name's appropriate." noted Bloodline, still limping weakened, holding a damaged weapon he'd be unable to repair. Bloodline had seen far, far more intimidating than a lone gang member. There were plenty of those back where he came from. Usually roving in cobbled together vehicles and for some strange reason, wearing pink mohawks. No explanation for that, he noted. It was just one of the quirks of his timeline, somehow.

 

"Look, I don't have time to deal with you." he said, dismisively, the hunger growing stronger every moment, as he waved his weapon around. "Piss off, will you?"

Edited by RobRX
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GM

 

"In a hurry are ya?" answered Filth, puzzled. He probably wasn't the sharpest guy in the world, but he was not stupid either. 

 

He looked down at the gun, and then at Bloodline, more directly. He paused a moment, then lifted the rat to his ear, and listened. 

 

"My rat here, he tells me some heavy duty stuff going down. In the tunnels of the Filth gang. Which is,....errr...me and my friend here, for now" he conceded, indicating the rat. "Ever since we had " he said, angrily. 

 

He pause, eyes closed, for a moment or two, whilst the rat on his shoulder looked hard at Bloodline. 

 

"Wow! You got some real heavy pitches and fires huh? Like some medieval mob, or like burn down Frankenstiens castle or sumthin'" he rambled. 

 

"Tell ya what, I'll show you a way outa here if you give me that fancy gun of yours. If i have that, I can make the Filth gang strong again! Yeah!"

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"How about this..." Growled Bloodline, putting the gun under Filth's jaw as he snarled, revealing a maw full of extendable fangs. "You take me a hideout and I don't eat you or splatter you across the tunnel. Does THAT sound good to you? Because I'm getting pretty ******* thirsty!"

 

He didn't mean it, of course, but whe one look like an angry, scary monster you might as well play the part if it benefits you, right? Granted, he was really itching at just grabbing the punk and feeding. The urge was there, constantly gnawing in the back of his mind. Desperate times called for desperate measures and Bloodline had no issue faking being a ruthless psychopath. As long as he didn't feed or pressed the trigger, in his book, it was fine.

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GM

 

Filth blinked. once. twice. Slowly. 

 

The rat on his shoulder hissed, and...smiled...before whispering in Filth's ear. Bloodline could hear him, but couldn't speak Rat. 

 

"Uh...Uh...Sure man...." gulped Filth, his mouth betraying all sorts of emotions. Cunning, fear, desperation....a childhood of being bullied for ginger hair and all the neuroses and desires that came from it. 

 

"I know the back of these tunnels like the maze of my hand" he smiled, blurting out the mixed up words. "Come with me..." he said, grabbing his electric lantern. 

 

He was good for his word, too. In but a minute of scrabbling through the tunnels - and at the end, squeezing through a space so tight one could feel your chest crack, he lead Bloodline to one of his "dens". 

 

A scrappy, dirty place. Bloodlines nose, sharper than any human;s could pick out a lot of scents. Rats, maybe. Lots of rats. Only a half dozen here, but the scent of many others that came and went. A lot of smells that one might want to not think about, too. 

 

A few ripped heavy metal posters. Some lights, magazines, even a black and white TV hooked up to some power cables that ran at the back of the den, and would frighten even a brave electrician. 

 

It was small, and cramped, but safe. Or so one would hope. The noise of trudging footsteps and whispered chatter could be heard outside. But with the echoes of the tunnels one could not gauge how close the mob was...

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"So...is that a talking rat?" asked Bloodline, in semi-hushed tone. Strangely enough, to him, that cramped smelly hole in the ground felt a lot more familliar and secure than the outside, full of people and noises and bright open spaces.

 

With finally a moment to think again, it occured to him he really was in a big mess and that it was his own fault. Self-reliance was one thing, but having arrived in 2014 without any papers and money, he had ran into the problem that he couldn't legally obtain components to manufacture his serum, a serum he needed in order to stay sane, in control and not begin the vampire plague anew. "Hey. Punk." he asked. "Do you want to do something good, for a change?"

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GM

 

"Vermin? My Rat?" gulped Filth, shuffling the rat of his shoulder dismissively. The rat still squarked and hissed in a language only Filth could understand.

 

"No way, man, I ain't talking to no rat! I mean, not this rat anyway! You ever talked to a rat? You know how small their brains are? Anyway I don't need to talk to em, man. I can control them! That's right, dude, I am a super!" he smiled, looking very un-super. 

 

"Makes me king down here, ya know? Filth is gonna build up his gang and rule! Gonna take down the Sleazebuckets, and the Fat Fingerz, and the Street Spitterz! Hell, I can even take down the Gaschuggers. Maybe...." he mused, eyeing Bloodlines gun again. 

 

"I ain't gonna do anything good man! I'm gonna be  the Filth! Biggest, baddest, gang in town!" he said, shaking his hands in heavy metal horn style, and trying to look imposing. 

 

"What did ya have in mind, something bad?"

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"Oh wow, you have to power to command filthy rodents. Amazing, truly this will make you one of earth's most feared supervillain." replied Bloodline, deadpan, noting that he was the raging jerk when off the serum. Likely his vampiric insincts reasserting themselves, making him detached from his human nature and more callous. Granted even under normal circumstances he wouldn't feel very impressed by a guy who can command rats.

 

Him shaking his head metal style only got a deadpan reaction from Bloodline. Already he was feeling tired of the guy. "Look don't make me resume the 'badass tough guy' act, because I can and I will. No, I need a way to the surface, preferably toward an hospital or drugstore and I need to keep those vampire hunters off my tail."

Edited by RobRX
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GM

 

"Sure, sure, cool your eyes, man. They burning up like some kinda heavy metal album cover. Well cool, man!" smiled Filth as the rat, Vermin conttinues studying him with jet black eyes"

 

"I can get you to the surface, no problem-oh" said Filth, trying to be cool and dripped in slang. The effect was disconcerting rather than impressive. 

 

"Hundred and one ways out, to every nook and cranny of the city. Dunno about drug stores though, man. The Fat  Fingers territory, they are" he spat, trying, ineffectually, to show his contempt of the bigger and, in all honesty, more competent gang. 

 

"By the way man" he said, as he started squeezing his way through the narrow crack out of the hiding hole. 

 

"Whats the deal with those eyes, you some kind of robot or something? You look really..."

 

"Shhhh! Shhhy! I heard somebody talking! Quick, radio it in!"

 

Filth was not keeping his mouth shut, and they both heard the voice echo down the tunnel. The pitchforks and torches had heard them. 

 

"Damn! Damn! They heard me!" squeaked Filth, even more loudly. He started panicking, hyperventilating. And in the tiny crack out of the den, that was not good. 

 

"Help! Help! I'm gonna die! I'm stuck...." he wailed. 

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A cold hand wrapped itself around Filth's mouth as Bloodline's instincts kicked in; survival, for him and others. He had dragged Filth into this in a moment of poor judgment so now it was his responsability to keep him safe, no matter how much of a jerk he might be or no matter dubious his morality might be. Or his hygiene. "Shhh..." said Bloodline. "They're going to hear you. Look, since what I did isn't fair I'm going to give you a choice; you can choose to side with them or you can side with me. Either way, I'll let you go without harm." His nostrils flared up as catched another draft of Filth's odor.

 

"But these people are hunting the wrong guy." he explained, trying to appeal to Filth's goodness. Which presumably, might not even exist. "I didn't do anything. To them, anyway. You, you're another story..." he admits.

Edited by RobRX
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GM

 

Filth was scrabbling around in a panic. 

 

"Heeeeeeellllp!" he shouted, barely listening to Bloodline, and tearing his t shirt as he tried to get through the crack in the tunnels a hundred times. But not whilst he was being threatened by a Vampire on one side and by Vampire hunters on the other. 

 

"Very well!"

 

The answer, in English, came from the black eyed rat on his shoulder, the rat that Filth had named "Vermin". The little scoundrel spoke in perfect English, a hiss and a scrawl, but English all the same. 

 

And then he was off, scurrying through the darkness. 

 

On the other side of the crack, two of the mob strode. Two men, this time, just shy of middle age with torches and shotguns. They looked a lot more thug like than the benign pair Bloodline had met. Tattoos, a broken nose, shaved heads. Brothers, probably. Ex-military, maybe. 

 

"We found him!"

 

"Wait....that's just some scrawny kid...."

 

"Must be the Vampire anyhow...."

 

Click...The sound of the safety coming off....

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"Let him go." said Bloodline, emerging from the shadows, massive blaster in hand. Anyone who paid attention to his body language would be able to see how tired and worn out he looked, barely holding on his two legs. Hopefully, he'd be able to keep a minimum of intimidation despite being moments away from collapse, if not for a certain amount of willpower.

 

The undead time-traveller began to (slowly) press the trigger. "He's not the vampire you're looking for. I am."

Edited by RobRX
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GM

 

"We got him! We got him!"

 

These two men looked more keen than the amateurs Bloodline disposed of back in the crumbling tunnels they had first found him. Military, or ex-military. 

 

And trigger happy. 

 

"Sorry, chum, but we got a job to do" the other said, apologising to Filth, who was white with fear. 

 

Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack!

 

Bullets whizzed, the pair trying to aim past Filth, and fortunately missing the young man. Sparks flew off the walls, as richoceed bullets thundered around Filth's lair. 

 

Even in the dim light, with Bloodlines uncanny senses, he could see the glint of the bullets. Not unprepared, these hunters. That dull glint....that...smell....

 

Silver!

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With a single, sweeping motion, Bloodline aimed at fired at one of the vampire hunter. In a display of light, he fell to the ground, completely knocked out by a non-lethal shot. Having been previously overloaded, the weapon crackled and fizzle both during and after the shot and Bloodline knew he wouldn't be able to get a proper, fully loaded shot out of it until repairs were done.

 

"Anyone else feel like stepping in?"

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GM

 

The hunter looked aghast at his companion fell to the floor standing shocked for an instant, his gun down. 

 

"Billy! Ya shot Billy! Ya no good bloodsucking beast!" he said, mouth open aghast. Fear lost out to rage in his face and in his words. 

 

"Ya gonna pay for that! Big style! When Dawnstar comes here, he is gonna roast you, make it slow, make it burn!!!" he said, a tear rolling down his face. 

 

"That is if he got anything left to roast! Eat silver, ya devil!" he screamed, wiping away a tear and shooting his gun.

 

Bang...Bang...Bang...Bang...Bang....Click....Click....Click....

 

Five silver bullets sped from his revolver, but in his rage, he kept clicking the empty gun out of pure fury. Perhaps his pure anger would fuel another round, or just spit fire. 

 

The bullets ricocheted like crazy around the den of Filth, tumbling this way and that. Filth screamed again, as a bullet twanged over his shoulder, ripping his jacket but no flesh. 

 

All of a sudden, Bloodline was aware of the dark eyed rat, on his shoulder, hissing in his ear in English.....!

 

"They are coming, you know...and you will be burrrrrnttt! I know daystar and he will burn you to the ground....but I can get you out....yes....I can saaaaaave you!"

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