You push the button on the walkie-talkie, and speak into it. "Hello?"

Moments pass. After several more crackles you get a response. A cool female voice speaks out, "Sebastian? Seargent, is everything alright?" British?

Kelso shoots you a sideways glance. You can almost feel him sending you a message with his eyes. Be creative, you call the shots for now.

You blink. Ahem, "I have spotted some of the err, creations."

"Well of course you have." Matter of fact tone. "We've known where the devils that are the Wolves have been for a while now. We just need to strike them. Which reminds me, we should get back to base."

Perfect. Ish. "No! The, uh, lord helped me and I found others."

"Others? What do you mean?"

"There are other Creations that have escaped aside from the, uh, wolves, and-"

The woman on the other side is excited, "More?"

"Um, only one. That I found, at least. But one is one too many. I uh, need backup."

"Stop stuttering, Sebastian. This is important. Where are you? Now searching it up..." Pause. "Your GPS tracker hasn't been functioning for a couple of days. That's probably why security has tightened around the City. Where the hell are you?"

Shit. "Well, uh, the battery died and, uh, things happened."

"Things? Sebastian, I... Did it take you hostage?"

You've decided you like her voice. "It?"

She lowers her voice, "What is your general location, Sebastian? We'll find you. You'll be safe."

You pause, looking to Kelso for help. To tell the truth, you have no idea where you are. Kelso looks the other way. You sigh, annoyed at him. Maybe he's just a bit offended that your plan was better. Or not.

"I..."

You continue on, yourself.

You lower your voice, "I... not sure. We're in some sort of house. Lots of sand."

No reply. You click it off.

Kelso nods in seeming approval. "It'll do. Let's just hope they underestimate one Creation and send only a couple soldiers. They are tasked to deal with the unknown. I got lucky with 'Sebastian'; the foolish Zealot wandered out alone."

---

Your mentor and youself make your way to a particularly large sand-dune near the house, watching for incoming Zealots from the city ahead.

It doesn't too long-- after several minutes you begin to notice flashing armors marching in the moonlight. Your house is a surprisingly straight line to the city, and you notice some lights, formed in clusters, moving straight in your direction. Others seem to be coming in on a flank, moving to the left and right of the city before circling in, near your location. None are too close though, which gives time for Kelso to count them all.

"Five groups of five in all, with the Church having only a slight notion where we are and us having the element of surprise."

"You think that's good odds? From what it seems, they likely no more about what we can do then what we know they can."

"Not we, you. I fought Zealots before the facility was destroyed, you know. Even if they've grown considerably, they're still the fear-mongering, symbolic fools as ever. With enough force their armor can be clawed through, only thing you have to worry about is silver and their lightning rifles."

"Sounds fun." You chuckles out nervously, "Silver bullets and lightning rifles?"

"Ah yes, silver is specifically harmful to us, for whatever reason. It is very pure... and the only thing that will stop us from regenerating, thankfully though, I don't think they've caught on to that just yet. The shock-troops they send in are equipped with monstrous bayonets that shoot out streams of electrons at high velocity, which are scarily painful..." He notices your frown, and smiles in return, "But it's healable. And I think we can do it."

You nod, "Not if their flanks succeeds. We need to either split up and fight the ones coming on the side or take the clusters on together."

"No question, we should fight together. Splitting up may make this go faster and more efficiently, but it's dangerous enough that it won't be worth it. Together, we can capture one of them as well as efficiently annihilate the groups one by one."

You nod back, assured. Kelso may retain information, but he's never lied to you. You think.

This brings your mind back to the incoming horde of Zealots,  which are less than a mile away by now, marching tirelessly, not exactly in your direction, but close enough...

"So, who do you think we should take on first?"

You zealots on a side.

"Let's start on a side and move on from there. We can't let their flank be affective." Your mentor nods. "There was a reason why I saved you, even if I didn't realize it at the time."

"Which is...?"

"You're smart."

You'd blush if could, you like compliments, "No, the reason why you got me in the first place."

"You'll find out at some point."

You both laugh. Kelso drops information every once in a while, and at some point you want to just have several hours with him to discuss everything. Was the world always like this? What happened to it? What is my purpose? And on and on.

By now the collection of lights are nearing, so you stop chatting with your master and turn your attention to them. Keeping your head close to the ground and sneaking to the right, you prepare to overtake the group of five on that side. Your mind flashes back to your training in the training you did with Kelso in the dunes. You try your best to channel your anger while you run, Kelso behind, at the Zealots.

Why should I hate the Church? Your mind answers. Because they hate me for what I am. The man called Sebastian called me a 'demon'; I'm not that. I know I'm not that. But they will crucify me if they can. And I won't let them do that to myself or Kelso.

With your mind settled on some sort rage, you vent it with your sprinting, reaching the Zealots quick enough. They're big people, the C.E. Soldiers. Stygian black metal overlays their entire bodies, with an obvious group leader with a different helmet (with horns, like a medieval knight's would have.) The rest have a simplistic SWAT-team-like helmet with a visor. The most notable part of their ensemble is their heavily tusked rifles, which take up both of their arms, if only to carry the heavy block of metal. You assume that that's the thing that Kelso mentioned; the lightning bayonets. 'That, and their lit cross on the chest, flashing on and off. Thankfully, they don't seem to notice you, yet. Their heavy metal probably restricts them of that.

You pay little attention to where Kelso is, and you angrily lash out on the leader, leaping from over eight meters away from the ground. While in the air, you let your claws grow out and you come onto the huge black being's chest, and sink your claws into him, through the weak parts of his armor. Wet, sticky blood pours out, and you messily continue to clutch onto him while he tries to shoot you off with his tusked-bayonet. He manages to shoot up wards once or twice before slumping to the ground, the Other Zealots probably pissing their pants at this point. You roar at them, jumping off the corps of their leader and sending a heavy-fisted slash at a close one that is unbashfully trying to use hiw walkie-talkie. The hand you send clunks off of his helmet, but the heavy crunch you feel from it obviously means you broke his neck.

While you were busy with two, Kelso (still unseen) has done fine work with the remaining three, his body half-transformed into something... Animalistic. With hairy, muscular arms and sharp teeth he overpowers them easily, ripping heads off at insane speeds, to the point that you're convinced that you imagined part of it. After several lightning flashes from the last one, Kelso's new body soaks up the energy from it and grabs the Zealot, throwing him to the floor. Now, all that remains are you and your mentor. You hungrily sink your teeth into a nearby combatant, reinvigorating yourself. Kelso morphs back, seeming tired, and takes a helping from one of them. After only ten seconds, he grabs you to stop with him.

"That's one group down. There are three more groups to annihilate, two to the left (what used to be the middle) and the third which is standing back, way over to the left. I'll assume we're moving on to the middle?"

You continue to the middle.

"Indeed, the middle-men are next."

Two groups of hulking Zealots stand between you and the other. They know you're there, and the element of surprise isn't yours anymore. Worse yet, Kelso seems to have used up whatever the hell that transformation was. Still, you're confident that Kelso and you can tackle on the fifteen Zealots left over,

You see them aiming their blockish weapons at you, and charge. Two leaders... You look to Kelso, and he nods. You take one, and he takes the other.

As they move forward with their tusks, streaks of bright green at you. You quickly move to the side, allowing for some to take mercy and miss, but one or two manage to land on your armor, causing it to heat up...

Kelso manages to dodge every single one shot at him, and runs up ahead of you to disarm the Zealots shooting at you. While your metallic armor sizzles, you do your best to throw it off you and follow-up with Kelso before they reload and shoot again. Kelso jumps into the air, swinging his foot down on one of the head-Zealots-head. It doesn't take him out, but it stuns  him long enough for Kelso to throw him at the other line of Zealots, and proceed to restlessly break their weapons by punching it. The Zealots try to fight him, but your mentor doesn't give up.

Meanwhile, you quickly sweep the other Head's feet from under him during the confusion of Kelso's utter... coolness and fluidity in combat.  You stomp your sneakers on it's neck; the crack is all you needed to hear.

More bright streaks. You see the remaining six Soldiers trying to surround him and put him down, not paying as much attention to you. In return for their disrespect, you bring both of your hands to your sides, and begin a large tackle at the horde surrounding your master. Your rage-fueled push causes you to bleed (you're slamming your arms onto cold metal, remember) but pushes them all on top of eachother, all scarmbling to get up.

Kelso manages to get out of the huddle of Zealots, and picks up one of the bayonets, and begins spiking the clunky radicals. More, deliciously red blood squirts out, and you follow suit by taking your own bayonet. Now, only one group left.

Five fearful Zealots pitifully trying to snipe at both of you. But it's obvious who will win this fight, in your eyes.

You finish off the bastards on the left.

You continue to finish the ones trying to attack you. It is a quick fight, considering. Kelso rushes ahead, jumping up and using the butt of his new bayonet to whack the head-Zealot of this group over the head, not snapping his eck but at the very least knocking him out.

With blood-lust, you manage to bring up the hulking weapons to shoot lightning at one the group at point-blank, causing him to scream as his own armor boiled him. The others, no doubt bewildered by many things at the current moment, try their best to survive in various ways.

One continues struggling, actually managing to spear Kelso and shoot at the same time, only to find Kelso laugh, bring his arms back and snap the man's neck before getting out of the tusks.

One calls out to his god. In turn you gutted him with your rifle, piercing his armor like a can-opener.

And one from the other side of the battle-field, that you obviously didn't kill correctly, gets up to flee back to the city. Even he didn't get a break. Kelso, with uncanny familiarity with the rifle, shoots him in the back. The flashing Zealot slumps over, dead.

The fight ends there, and Kelso puts his hand on your back as you walk to the unconscious head-Zealot of the Left-group.

"So, what do we do with him?" You ask, warily, "The Church will probably send more of it's operatives to subdue us."

"Doubt it. The head-honchos in the Church are probably terrified right now. More Creations in addition to 'The Wolves' are definitely not what they wanted. Still, you're right. We need to find a new place, but only after we find out where the Wolves are, and subdue them."

"You still think they know where the Professor is?"

He looks at you, pondering, "Unsure. If they do, then we'll have to fight them. Which is doable, with your newfound talents." He points to bloody undergarments, "But if they hate the Professor as much as we do then we can join forces. Well, you might. I might have to leave soon."

You frown. "Why?"

"Ha, don't worry kid. I might not have to, but if I do I'll make sure you're ready to fend for your self."

You loot the bodies and proceed to interrogate the Zealot.

Shrugging the thought of not having Kelso around, you collect the armors of the Zealots, turning the flash off and equipping them. They won't save you from everything, but they will certainly make you physical attacks stronger, if only because they're reinforced by cold metal. You wear everything but the helmet, since you like having your vision unrestricted. Kelso does similarly, putting on the armor, leggings, and boots. You also decide to take one of the undamaged rifles; good weapons, and more effective on humans than on Creations, ironically.

After the slight diversion, you bring your attention to the rousing Zealot. Kelso points him out to you to deal with. With a cruel smile, you walk over to him, bringing your gauntleted hand to his armored helmet, and begin to squeeze.

That wakes him up.

He cries in agony, as his helmet soon becomes a 'custom-fit' of sorts. With your one hand, you pick him up by his face, and just hold him in mid-air. "Kelso, are we just interrogating him here or somewhere else?"

"Here's fine."

You shrug, and drop the Zealot on the floor. He groans in pain, bringing hands to his face to try to take off his helmet; he couldn't do it. "Tell you what, if I take off your new skullcap if you tell me where the other Creations are."

He looks up pitifully, nodding. Carefully... You peel off the horned helmet from his visage.

"You killed Sebastian, didn't you!" Is the first thing that erupts from his lips. That, and some spit. You back hand him, bloodying his face further and causing him to fall back onto the sand.

"Location, now. Or you end up having a worse fate than Sebastian."

The dark haired Zealots looks at you with menacing eyes, "I don't consort with demons. I will die with honor."

"That's not what you were saying when your face was in a can." You laugh, and Kelso gets on one knee, beckoning closer to him.

"You can become one of us, if you like. Be one of the damned, and survive the hell that is God's world. Just lead us to where the so-called 'Wolves' are."

"I won't sell out that easy, demon. Sebastian was a brother before you bastards killed him!" The agitated cripple would be somewhat intimidating if he wasn't in such a pathetic situation.

"Then it's time you became family." Kelso looks at you. "Try ghouling him."

Your eyes widen, "What do you mean, 'ghoul'?"

"Drink from him until he has only the minimum amount of blood he needs. He'll become one of us. Well, half. He'll also follow our commands in that state. For the first couple of days. An eternal slave." Your mentor grins. The Zealot, however, is horrified.

"No, don't! Don't drink from me, I'll get you to the Wolves, I promise! I'll even tell you when the Church is to attack their base. Everything, just don't turn me into one of you! Stop!"


Oh, so very tempting. But kind of... Evil, is it? Is there even a line anymore, after what I've done? Kindness will only hurt you at this point, and a side-kick if Kelso ever leaves is tempting...

You ghoul him.

Curious, and perhaps a wee bit thirsty, you motion to the Zealot. "What's your name?"

"David." He spits, "Why?"

"Because your new name is... Slave." His eyes widen in horror as you sink your teeth into his soft and milky flesh, this time getting it on the artery. The blood squirts down your throat, and the high that you get is unimaginable. Sweet and slightly sour blood, like apple-juice. The euphoria you get is uplifting, and you feel... Happy. Power surges through your veins, and your stomach does happy somersaults as it absorbs all the nutrients from the Zealot's warrior-blood, and you continue chewing on his neck, trying to get as much as you can from this man before he falters. Just sublime...

"Goddammit kid, your mother must have been some sort of an abuser." Kelso says with a chuckle, pulling you away. "But I think that' enough drinking, your new slave is deathly pale, but still breathing, albeit very slowly and inconsistently-- a sign that you've drunk just enough." He points out, "But hats off to you kid, you've got yourself a ghoul."

You both stand, waiting for your slave to wake. The pale Zealot opens his eyes back up, a glossy look to them. He doesn't speak, but instead lazily lets saliva and a red substance that likely is blood ooze out from the side of his mouth.

Nervously, you command him, "Lead us to the Wolves hideout." He lazily tries to get up, only to fall back down again. "Now." Firm. He gets up, straight this time. With uncoordinated steps he begins to march, stumbling through the sand and skin beginning to redden from the sun. You shrug, and follow your new ghoul. By the time you pass the City the trek is already nearly over. You take another left from there, then a turn to the right... And soon Kelso directs you and your new slave to stop.

"This," he begins, "is where I take my leave."

"What?" You exclaim, "Why now? Didn't you say that the other Creations might be on the Professor's side?"

Kelso tilts his head to the side, "The longer I think about it, the less it makes sense. But I've been worried about something, and I'm nigh certain I'm correct on this."

"What do you mean?"

Your mentor walks to your ghoul, tugging at his armor's sleeve to get attention, "You, David, what does the Church know about Simon Kurschner?" Who?

The slave replies in monotone, "Can't be found or traced. Not among Creations, unknown if even still alive."

You raise an eyebrow, "Who's this Kurschner?"

"The Professor." Comes the reply from Kelso.

"But I thought our plan was to see if the other Creations know where the Professor is? Which could mean that they still serve him. Or not."

"Exactly. If the Church has no idea of his whereabouts, then it's unlikely the Wolves have something definite either. Even though the Wolf and I have had our  arguments, I still trust him enough to give you vacancy while I search for the Professor."

"So where are you going?"

"Anywhere. The world left is just a desert, and traveling by night only will waste time, which is why we have t split for the moment." Kelso frowns, and holds out his hand to shake.

You firmly grasp it, "Then stay safe, Master. I trust you will return soon?"

He stares at you blankly, "I have no idea how long it will take. But I believe in you just as well. You can make it on your own, especially with how you proved yourself today. Strong decision making and vast knowledge on how survival works have made you to what you are. There is very little that I can teach you that I even know. You shall grow past what I can even guess you can do." He begins to let go of the hand shake, but you hold on.

Tightly. "There's one thing that you still haven't told me."

"And what's that?"

"How the World came to this pitiful state."

The Wolf Underground

Your mentor, the Ghoul, and yourself make your way through the remnants of the past world. Suddenly, it all makes sense to you. The world went to hell, and it was the Professor's abuse of his Creations that furthered it. Now, the Church hunts you all down for no reason other than to to give hope to 'real' humans. It's despicable, but it's the world you're in right now.

The hot sun beats down upon you, while your slave suddenly comes to a halt. "This is it." He blandly calls out, reaching down to the sandy flooring, and makes hand motions as to move some of the sand away.

You turn to wish your master a farewell, but he is already gone. Only a hazy version of him can be seen through squinting in the distance. So, it's just me and my Ghoul. Let's just hope it doesn't get bloody...

You follow David's beckoning, and bend down to see what he was unclearing. As your slave digs, more and more sand  seems to pile in. "What are we looking for?"

"They're underground, sir."

With a nod, you decide to help out with the digging. As you lay your hands on the sand, you thank fortune that you hadn't done this in the middle of the day, rather than just an hour or so after sun-rise. The sand would no doubt have burnt your fingers otherwise! Even though you and your ghoul are digging barehanded, it doesn't take too much time before you begin to feel the sand getting thicker, more doughy. With quick powerful stroke, you continue ripping through the sand, throwing it out of your radius, soon creating a little pit, low enough that you could stand up in it. After clawing at the earth with your servant for a while, you accidentally scratch at something... Hard, metallic. Underneath the sand lay a metal disk, with evenly-spaced holes around it's edge and the middle. Even as it is right now, it's fairly obvious that the disk is heavily embedded into the ground, and prying it out would no doubt prove to be a challenge. At first, you try just digging around and under it, but your efforts seemed to have been in vain; the plate appeared to be a part of both the earth and some sort of brick-well that goes much further down.

"You sure this is the place? You ask, making sure that this was the opening to the Wolf Stronghold. It'd make sense, as this is extremely safe from the Zealots, considering.

"Yes." Comes the monotone reply, "The few remaining GPS satellites pin-pointed this exact spot. We caught several monsters disappearing from under the sand here."


Now, how should we try to open this?

You try to pry it open. The Ghoul's combined strength with yours should be more than enough.

"C'mon Slave, you and I together can probably take this out of it's place." As usual, he complies. With a flick of your wrist, you bring out one of your signature claws, and draw your index finger along the bottom edge of the metal plate, taking as much sand out of it as possible. After thousands of sand pellets fall out, you both position yourselves opposite one another, and firmly grasp the end of the disc, clawing in anywhere possible to gain enough leverage to pull it upwards, out of it's fixed place. David and yourself glance at each other, and meet at the red-eyes.

1, 2, 3!

Forming an odd sort of mental connection with your ghoul, you both bring all the strength you can muster to pull the rough, grainy plate out of the stop of the well. As you pull at the disc, you can feel yourself pulling your muscles as well, the first feeling you've had of strain for a while. This would be a good thing any other time (sort of), but now it's just not a good time to go back to human-like limitations. Your ghoul on the other hand, glumly shows little exertion, even though he seems to be attempting to carry out your will. "David," You encourage, using his actual name this time, "Put your back into it. All your body, we can do this!"

You continue trying to pry open the hatch, but it just doesn't budge... Until a sudden movement. Feeling it shift slightly to the side, your ghoul instinctively follow you there, and you both pull at it in a close space, together. After exerting yourself greatly, you manage to take it out of it's wedge in a very sudden throw, flinging it out of your own pit with a clatter. You shrug, and smile at your Ghoul, and then proceed to look down the brick-well...

It's dark, for one thing, but you can barely make out the sound of feet pattering on cold concrete. Overcome with nervousness, you loudly blurt out, "We come in peace!"

Several dark figures appear from the bottom of the well, after several glances upwards at you and whispering, one of them waves you down. Shivering, you jump down the well, using the cylindrical bricks surrounding you to position yourself as to not fall on them. Still, you fall with a heavy thud. Yeah, I'm gonna need new sneakers.

Unlike yourself, David just goes down it normally, using the short metal bars protruding one of the sides, climbing downwards. The dark figures eye you carefully, taking a while to speak. One with dark gray hair and scruffy facial hair as well as a slouching hunchback of a surprisingly muscular body, points at your armor, "If you're a Zealot, I'd turn back right now."

His voice isn't too threatening, but his body language and thick-eyebrows suggest otherwise. He's clad in tight cloth shirt and pants, bulging with muscles, and is surrounded in an intimidating aura. The other one is completely cloaked, though watches your Ghoul with suspicion. "I'm not of the Church," you start, trying to make a good first impression, "and neither is he. Not anymore at least."

"Then what are you?" The gruff man calls out, his eyes narrowing.

"Well, I'm glad you asked. I'm a... A Creation, just like you. This is my Ghou--" By the time you uttered the word, 'Creation' he had already put you in a headlock. The cloaked one has already put your ghoul to sleep, though hopefully not forever...

The man continues, "What do you want from us, fangs-boy? I thought the rest of your clan died."

Clans? "No!" You exclaim, struggling out of his hold. You actually manage to surprise him with your strength and are able to push him off of you. "I honestly have no idea what you're talking about. But you're part of the Wolves, right? My associate and I want to join your strong hold."

He spits back at you, "We don't need any joiners."

"Why not?" You argue, your body tensing. "The Zealots are planning to raid this place soon, and I figure you could use as much help as possible."

The old man growls back you, "What are you, some sort of message-boy for the Professor?" Well, at least that means they aren't working for him. Probably. "The Church means no harm to us at this point. It'd be stupid for them to attack us. If you're trying to make a powerful group do something out of desperation, then oh boy, have you come to a bad place, vampy. I'd go back to the sun, where the pain is relatively quick." He cracks his knuckles. If you weren't so confident in your abilities, you might have been intimidated by this Neanderthal.

"Then perhaps you should ask my Ghoul, David. He was a Zealot before I brought him to the darkness." You point at the slumped body on the floor.

"He's dead now, too late." The brute says with a cruel grin, "Snapped his neck, Ragnor did."

You laugh, "I don't think he'd die from that." You take several steps toward your slave, waving the cloaked man aside, you grab David by the cuff of his armor and pick him up, then bring your hand to his neck and snap it back.

David glumly states, "Hi."

The Wolf grits his teeth, "Didn't know Vampires could use their powers like that."

"Then you'll be learning a whole lot more during my stay here. What was that you were saying about being the last of my clan?"

He smiles back, surprisingly, "Oh? So you don't know. You're the last of the Vampire Creations, as the rest died in this desert planet. I'm surprised you made it this long since the last Facility was destroyed. But if you don't remember that, then do you even remember your name?"

"I'm afraid not. Can you at least tell me yours?"

The Wolf laughs, "Call me Gideon. The cloaked figure on the side is Ragnor, our residential assassin, even if fighting has little place anymore." He brings out a hairy, clawed hand to shakes yours.

You accept it. "So I'm in?"

"I'm still suspicious of your reasons for coming here, and your story about the Zealots needs some checking."

"Is it really that surprising?"

"Less that and more that we don't want to fight them." What? Seeing your confused expression, Gideon continues, "Listen here Vampy, I'd rather die and let humanity survive than not. And most of us here are ready for that. If the Zealots come to our turf then we'll wipe them out easy, but we're definitely not going to seek conflict, even if me and the boys can take those choir-boys out in an instant."

"Why not? They want to kill us all?"

He shakes his head, his face now grim, "The Church may believe that we're demons, but they also value the sanctity of life, so I doubt they'd come here. Regardless, they aren't all that wrong about us. The things we've done... The innocents we've massacred in our wake. It doesn't mean that we're bad now, per se, but what we've done is inexcusable. The World has gone to waste, and I'm alright if we don't survive to see it rebuild itself.

You stand in silence for a little while, realizing that you've joined ranks with the modern equivalent of the hippies.

Gideon grins again, "But don't worry about that now, let's close the lid on top of our well and then introduce you to the rest of the gang."

The rest of the Wolves.

"Ragnor, use those climbing skills of yours and find a way to seal the top of the well better. Can't have one of them dust storms filling the place, nor let any traveler find us like these two rugrats." Gideon says, waving for you to follow him and his goofy walking pattern. While the cloaked man begins to climb, you and David follow the hunchback though the stronghold of the wolves. It's a dark tunnel path, but several well-placed torches along the concrete walls give you enough light to make out peculiar drawings on the walls. Not exactly professional artwork or anything, just passionate claw-markings. But still...

"Hey Gideon," you ask, examining one specifically for it's graphic nature, "What's up with the markings?"

The hunchback turns his head, but continues moving, "The writing? It's a code language we formed, mixture of all the languages the folks here are familiar with. It's more or less a system of simplified pictures, but you'll be able to read it if you stay here long enough."

"Can you read this one out to me?" You make sure to stop and point it out; the writing here is different than the rest, even more picturesque than the rest. You can't hope to read it, but you do notice a recurring theme-- a cross and a pentagram. Not only that, but they're much less refined than the others, as if written with anger.

"That one is rather basic, I think I even went over it before. It basically boils to, eh..." He shuffles closer to you, and brings his large eye to the writing, "Peace is what keeps our humanity, for the Professor, cursed be he, uses strife to tear us apart. The cursed Creator wishes that we destroy our brothers in battle so he reaps the reward when it's over." Gideon tilts his head back and continues forward, "I'd keep this in mind, vampy. I'm not sure why you're here, whether to warn us or to do devil's bidding, but I trust you enough to see you have no idea what's going on, so I'll be giving you the chance to give a little presentation for the guys here. By vote, we'll either agree or not. After that, it's up to you whether you stay or not. Got it?"

"That's all I could have asked for, sir." You reply, hoping you can prepare them for the Church's onslaught next week. If not, then, well, you and your brothers are done for, regardless of non-violent intentions.

After several minutes of treading through the passages of the tunnel, Gideon stops to look up, even if his head doesn't lift that far. You catch up to where he is, noticing what he's looking at: an opening, light.

"That's our hideout." The Wolf jumps up, grabbing onto some sort of ledge to bring his deformed body up. You watch his body struggle up it, land on solid ground (and then a lot of murmuring from above), then jump up yourself, making it up with ease.

The hideout is surprisingly low-key for the most powerful beings on the planet, but considering how they're just trying to survive a dimly lit room filled with sleeping bags and animal-carcasses strewn about is to be expected. The ragtag group that are the Wolves are surprising though; a thin man with dark hair, only to have a visible streak of white in the front; a rather hairy, though otherwise attractive female with dirty blonde hair who's around your age (early twenties?); several scruffy teenagers; a dark-skinned, mustached, and barrel-chested man; at least three of obvious Asian descent; and, of course, Gideon, pointing you out to everybody.

Most of them getting out of there bags, they begin gawking at you. You wince as the female eye you with interest, while the men seem to just want to know what you want so they could sleep. You motion to Gideon, and you get close to him and ask, "These are the Wolves? Not as... Impressive, as I thought they'd be."

"You're not exactly super-hero material either, child. Kinda stock; dark, straight hair and pale skin. Lean physique." Noticing you're confusion he just pokes at your chest, "What matters is what's on the inside. That's where power comes from. Remember that." He begins to raise his voice, "Now, this here is a Vampire. He has no name, so call him whatever you like, but he has some 'opinions' he'd like to share.


As your ghoul struggles up the hatch, you wonder how you want to persuade this group of lazy Wolves to prepare.

You describe it with urgency, they need to realize how serious this is.

It's time to get these sleepy assholes up and running.

You nod to the crowd as they gather around you, staring with glossy eyes and gaping mouths. "I'm not going to sugarcoat anything," you snarl, starting off with a very loud, though clear voice, "The Church has plans to raid our little stronghold here by next week."

Gasps from the Wolves, and men exit their bags. Seems to have worked, for now.

"And while that may be hard to believe, I'm sure we all know how ruthless the Zealots are. I escaped from the last Facility-- Facility 13, soon before it came tumbling down with C.E. Troopers, who burned down the laboratory. Since then, I have fought many of them, some purposely in order to find my brethren here, to join you as well as to warn you of the incoming second apocalypse. We are blessed Creations, gifted in our own right. We aren't innately evil, like the Church believes. Rather, we are capable of great things, but only if we survive our genocide."

"Then what do you want us to do?" One of them shouts out, interrupting you.

"I want you to fight back, and prepare for when they come next week. We need to take the initiative; I know how powerful Creations can be, so I have no doubt in my mind that we can beat them. But only if we get ready."

"Why should we trust you?" One of the younger ones ask.

You bare your teeth; fear is a big factor of your speech, "Because if I'm right then we all die." You seethe out, staring intently at your brethren. "We have three options the way I see it; defend the stronghold and prepare for when they come; try to take control of the city with our combined strengths before the attack; or just get slaughtered when the time comes."

Most of the Wolves continue gaping, though Gideon cracks his knuckles.

"Nice speech, Vampire" A voice declares, and the red-cloaked figure pops out of the hatch. Ragnor's hood fall down, and the profile is of a middle-aged, balding man. Terribly tall, and lean; powerful and domineering. "Do you really think we can overtake the Church?"

"If we do it carefully, yes."

He smiles, "Then I like what I'm hearing; I'm in." While it's amusing how enthusiastic he is, it also seems to win over more of the Wolves. Perhaps Ragnor is a big figure in the Wolf Underground. "It is likely to work, too. While some of us are inexperienced, we can easily beat them while their forces are divided into attacking our stronghold. We just need to be clever."

Gideon continues to grimly frown, "I think the 'hold the fort' idea will work better. It's safer, and more suited to our abilities."


It's odd, but you feel like it's completely your decision. Maybe they just really trust in you?

You side with Ragnor on this one.

"I... Think Ragnor has a solid point. We can definitely beat the Zealots as long as we have the element of surprise. And if this goes well, then we won't have to worry about extinction ever again."

The blonde vixen looks up to you, as do most of the Wolves. Ragnor laughs, and pats you on the back. Gideon, on the other hand, merely frowns, closes his eyes, and announces, "Right. Welcome to the family, Vampy. I'd rest, we're all practically nocturnal here anyhow.

The cloaked Ragnor frowns, "Are you sure? I was just about to bring out the alcohol..."

"No alcohol, Ragnor. We have a long night tonight, lots of training we need to go through. I don't think some of us here have actually fought Zealots."

Ragnor nods, and the rest of the Wolves shuffle back to their blankets. Gideon shuts the lantern off, and heads down the hatch, disappearing after a thud.

Meanwhile, you find a piece of concrete that is comfortable enough to meditate on, and begin to close your eyes... Only to realize that all the Wolves are watching you for some reason. They're all smiling, and the pretty one in particular seems to watch you in the dark of day. At some point during the night, she leans towards you to whispers, "Hi, I'm Cecilia." She giggles.

"Uh, hi." You whisper back lamely.


The next couple of days fly by, and you manage to go over the histories of your new friends, as well as prepare them for the fight.

You assault on Church City.

The week passes by too soon for for your liking, but you and your compatriots can all agree that you got work done. You spent the week teaching the lesser-experienced Creations how to use their powers in battle, emphasizing team-work and effort. Like Kelso taught you, you passed on the knowledge of the power of emotion-- something you can vouch works in a fight. As the training went on it became rather obvious that in their human form, you can easily take on the strongest werewolf. In the real, bestial for, however, you have to use your wits. For that, you are forever thankful you are on the Wolves' good side. Heck, you're leading them to possible suicide.

Other things you've focused on is appealing to both Gideon and Ragnor, both people whom you know you can trust to some sort of degree.

The one thing you feel somewhat apologetic about is that you haven't been able to spend as much time with Cecilia as you wanted to, but you manage to remind yourself that if you succeed in taking over the City, you'll have all the time in the world. Perhaps, with enough time, you'll even learn the wolven-lingo, though it's the least of your worries currently.

You focus on the plan: it's basic espionage, like how a movie would set it out (though you can't remember any one in particular). They send a one-man army to the middle of the battlefield, while they storm the castle-walls. You're confident that you can take care of yourself, especially in the night-time, assuming that's when you're sent in.

The Creations stand together in a circle, well below the surface, waiting for the the scouting team (Ragnor's group) to tell you whether today is the day. While the Zealots begin their march to the Stronghold, the Creations will quickly get away, and run toward the city, attacking it while half of it's forces are trying to find the nonexistent. Time passes; you do this twice a day, once in the morning and once in the evening, to see if they're preparing for a night-attack or not. You hope it's at night, as the Creations would have an advantage, probably. Additionally, you wouldn't have to worry about sun-tan lotion, the tube Kelso gave you will run out sooner or later. And so you wait, everybody around you waiting in silence.

You hear the codified knock: Clunk-clunk-clunk.

That's three times. Today isn't the day after all.

You go out to train once more, reviewing everything, and then turning back to refill on blood. Gideon gives you a broken plastic-cup with maybe an ounce of his blood. You drink it slowly, savoring the taste. It reinvigorates you, like usual, and you set down to meditate, waiting for nightfall.

That night...

Clunk-clunk-clunk-clunk

That's 4... Is tonight the night?

Ragnor's hooded head pokes out of the hatch, "Come on, wake everybody. Now!"

Getting out of your trance, you begin repeatedly whispering, "Now!" as you went along, pulling off blankets from the Wolves. As with procedure, the Wolves spring into action, readying their clothes and going down, dividing themselves into the groups. Soon, the only Creations left are you (after ushering everybody out) and Gideon. "Gideon, are you coming?" You ask, concerned. You don't want to be late, after all.

The hunchback stares back at you solemnly, not speaking.

"Goddammit Gideon, let's go!" You begin edging out of the room.

He opens his mouth to speak, then closes it again.

"Gideon, if you don't come with us, you'll die. We want you with us, so just... Come, man."

"You may have been right about the Church, Vamp. But it doesn't change a thing. The real monster is the Professor, not humanity. Hurting them is hurting us..."

You shake your head in disbelief, before angrily waving him off. That hippie won't bring me down.

With haste, you make it to the well's opening, jumping off the walls to speedily catch up with Ragnor and the others. You were lucky they chose night-time, but that doesn't mean they didn't take advantage of it either. No flashes from miles ahead, just darkness, and maybe some slow movement here or there... But you only notice it if you squint. Crafty of them. "Ragnor, you see them?"

"Yeah." He says, calling out from ahead, "But where's Gideon? He's supposed to be leading his group!"

"I don't think that fool is coming." You spit out, finally catching up. "But it's unimportant. David can lead them."

"David isn't exactly a leading-personality."

"He knows what he's doing."

"Which is why he should come with you! He'd be much more useful by you than by us. We're just giving you time. We can have one of the other Wolves lead, but for now you will no doubt need help, and a former Zealot is just perfect."

You urge for David to head a group.

"Ragnor," you hold your hand out defiantly, "I can do just fine alone. I trust in David enough to know that he will aid you a lot in holding the fort than helping me on a stealth mission. Now come on."

Ragnor grunts in protest, but shrugs it off. You and the the rest of the Wolves, keeping your heads low, move around the incoming horde of Zealots, attacking the City on its other side, almost opposite from where the Zealots marched from. After an hour of movement, you're eyes manage to detect the sentries watching the City. There are only perhaps 6 in total, evenly spaced out in hexagonal circumference around the City, but they each handle a fierce strobe-light that will bring light to the actual situation. Thankfully, the group is just far enough away that you aren't spotted.

"So, do we have any good ideas on how I'm getting in?" You ask, your mind flipping through several theoretical simulations of getting into the City: most of them, you die.

"You see the narrow dark passage-way in between the strobe lights?"

"Yeah?"

"You have to slip through that, then quickly kill the sentry on this side before he can get to the other, and then climb the barb-wire fence. You'll have to figure out what to do from then, but I'd focus on finding the actual Chapel, and killing the Elders there. We'll be rushing the City on this entire side while you're inside, confusing the Zealots and buying you time. Got it? Why the long face?"

You hand him your rifle, "Guess I can't exactly bring this with me, haha."

He takes it, smiles, and then salutes; this may be the last time you see him or several members of the group. You don't bother saying goodbye, and leave it to the hands of fate. "Just take care of Cecilia and David." You say, turning around to slowly creep forward...

First taking it slow, you almost crawl on the ground as to not be seen by the sentry, and move forward. You position yourself perfectly so the lights miss you, and the cloudy sky allows you to remain concealed. As you crawl onward, you notice that the Zealot Sentry is practically sleeping; he must have been here all day, waiting. Seizing the opportunity, you make easy work of him by bite. The defenseless man is quickly drained, to the point of being unconscious for reasons other than tiredness. You don't even bother checking whether his pulse is still there, whether he's dead or not doesn't matter right now. Finding the big Chapel does. You keep the strobe-light on as to not raise attention to anything, and continue on inside of the City. You leap over the fence, still clad in the Zealot armor. What you see in the City is amazing.

Nothing, almost a ghost-town. While the City has flashing banners all over, only two large buildings seem occupied: one with a giant cross, the other with an upside-down cross, like a sword.

As you enter the former, obviously the Chapel, you see an elderly man open the door in front of you. His squinty eyes stare at you for a moment before he asks in a gravely voice, "Has my time come already?"

Wordlessly, you grab at his throat, and begin to unintentionally rip at it, blood trickling down your wrist. "You are the reason for my brethren's suffering." you start, your pupils widening in anger, "You and your Zealots made us have to resort to living in fucking burrows. This is where God's plans for you ends, Tomas."

"Then so be it."

He dies there and then, and you find several monks staring at you in horror from the Chapel's door. Noticing them, you enter the Chapel to kill them as well. The balding priests hold out their necklaces, yelling, "We shall fear no evil for there is God." Over and over again.

Thankfully, you aren't evil; you're just looking out for your race. Protecting it from those who want to cut down on it. The blood of the zealots tastes better than ever, but it gets cut short by the sudden blaring of sirens-- the assault has begun.

Yet, oddly, enough, over ten Zealots rush in from all sides come to gawk at your bloody attire. While you cackle evilly when jumping and clawing at them, they still manage to have you surrounded by numbers if nothing else, breathlessly ending your unlife with their bayonets, all in the name of their God.


You have been killed by the hands of the Church.