Thread: Once Bitten, Twice Removed [Viktoff x Sketchyequine]

See more Small grunts echoed across a moonlit parking lot. Damn. A late thirties male managed to grumble between his grunts as he took one forced step after another. His gloved hand held the bloodstained side of his grey sweater, around his ribs area. Heavy breaths left his frosty lips as the small faint clouds weaved between his immaculate teeth before escaping into the night air. Just as he made his way closer to a multi-level parking lot, he stumbled forward and fell onto his front and cheek. A distinctfully enraged growl sounded off as his clenched teeth grew sharper and clearly defined fangs would be the result. His eyes, previously tightly shut in agony, shot open with an almost glowing and purely unnatural red color. With a punch that sent his other gloved fist into the cement, shattering it with ease, he climbed to his feet again. Several minutes of increasingly awful agony later, the fanged man had entered the shadows of the layered parking center. The glow of his red eyes would illuminate the area before him as he weaved between cars with care. He couldn't risk setting off an alarm and allerting anyone to his presence. Finally, he couldn't march further any longer, twisting his body in his fall so that his back would slap into a cement pillar and he'd fall into a sitting position. He peeled the leather gloves from his hands before ripping open the hole in his sweater and the shirt beneath. The dim red glow of his eyes would highlight the creamy chocolate skin of his abs, allowing him to see how serious the bite in his side was. A sigh of defeat left him as he noticed the almost venomous signs of the wound. He knew that he was inflicted, but he didn't want to believe it. Any bite from those savage beasts was fatal to his kind, after all. Another sigh escaped him he let his head rest against the pillar. His moment of silence wasn't going undisturbed for long as a walkie-talkie crackled to life. R-W, are you there? It was an ally of his, refering to him as his operative name. His lips pulled into a sour smile as he forced his left hand to his belt and pull the walkie-talkie up to a more appropriate level. What could he say? The pain that now coursed through his whole body had numbed his thought process significantly. If it was a normal wound, this wouldn't be so hard. Every attempt at starting his response had been frozen out by thoughts of his daughters. His once proud face was now stained with tears as the agony spilled over him further. R-W? The male's voice from the device had been a little slower, a somber note. R-W here. The wounded man shook his head as he concentrated intently on what he had to say. The enemy saw my face. My identity has been compromised. Where are you? We can send R-B as back up. I'm bitten. Oh Christ. Jon-I... His smile deepened, a bittersweetness revealing itself. Just get Melissa and my kids the fuck out of dodge. He managed to say before crushing the Walkie-Talkie. Not allowing himself the sorrow of listening to his comrades and their final words, he made sure the device couldn't be used by the damned beasts, if they found him before sun up. More frustration echoed through his head as he realized that the sun couldn't turn his corpse to ashe if he stayed here. The added panic of screwing up even further was only a rain drop to the ocean of inconcievable pain that consumed him. Before he took cover here, he was sure he had the tenacity to get back up. He couldn't have been more wrong. Uhm, sir? A child's voice whispered to him. It was the voice of a young boy, thought it was hard to tell at first. Ignoring the potential realization that he may be so messed up by the bite that he was just hearing things, the wounded man turned his eyed and opened his eyes just a peak. In awe, the dim red glow of his gaze would fall over a young child who was all alone in a place like this, at a time like this. He'd almost began to wonder where they boy's parents were -But this was rather silly of a thought as he was so close to death. Before he could speak, he was stunned by the sudden shift in the boy's eyes. He couldn't see the color of them before, but they transformed into rubies just like his own. With the added glow, the man could now tell that the boy was mumbling around his right index knuckle in his mouth. To his horror, the man realized that the child vampire was gnawing into his own knuckle. Boy, where are your parents? This question was met only by a lazy shrug as the boy waddled closer to sit near Jon. You're hurt mister. The boy mumbled, dropping his right hand from his mouth as he hid his grisly knuckle in his long sleeves of the dirty unfitting shirt he wore. In a soft chuckle, the man allowed the young vampire's presence to be a comforting one. Yeah, a big bad wolf got me. The humor seemed lost on the boy as he only tilted his head and furrowed his tiny eyebrows. Had this boy never been read a children's book? Nevermind that, is there anyone with you? To this the boy would shake his head a bit. Jon couldn't make heads or tails as to whether the boy was impaired in some way or never had the opportunity to be raised normally. Maybe it was because he was a little boy, he wasn't sure, but his daughters were far more social. More guilt surrounded his heart as he thought about them. The boy's curious gaze that layed on his wound was starting to grow a bit unsettling, so Jon covered the wound with his hand. In the blink of an eye, he covered the wound with several sheets of ice. The boy's face came to life with wonder as he saw this strange trick. Kingsblood? He spoke clearly for the first time, which only served to creep Jon out even further. Where'd you get that, Mister? The boy's curiousity grew and grew as he leaned forward onto his hands and crawled closer to look at the ice. This boy didn't know the story of the three little pigs, but he was entirely aware of something as complicated as the source of Jon's neat ice powers. Where did this strange boy come from? He wasn't just some normal poor kid or a crazed canabilistic vampire boy, such an oddity. Then an idea came to Jon, it wasn't a clean one and normally he'd never consider it, but he didn't exactly have many options. I'll make you a deal, kid. You won't have to be hungry anymore, but I'll need you to do something for me. --- Panic coursed through the crowd of Chicago cityfolk as they fled in all directions. Strange masked figures and beasts were battling fist to fur-covered muscle, and fangs to jaws of razor-sharp knives. The three on three match seemed rather even. Though the beasts where clearly stronger, the trio of masked figures had been making use of their cunning and speed to evade the powerful attacks of the wolfish fiends. One might ask, what did they gain from fighting in the middle of the day like this? A tricky question to answer as neither side was aware of the motives of the other. Though it was possible the beasts made the entirely fair assumption that these blood suckers in masks wanted to clean the city of opposition so that they could freely feed on the population, it wasn't like either side ever shared any words on the topic. Surveying the three on three fight from a nearby rooftop, another masked man was prepared to enter the fray. His white dress shirt was crisp with it's sleeves rolled up. He could only be dressed more formal if he didn't wear the steel mask, and paired the black dress pants and shoes with a black jacket of some kind. He wasn't dressed for success for any particular reason, this was just his outfit he wore to class that morning. The small hole near his left hear, on his mask, let out a soft crackle before someone's voice played through it. R-W, there appears to be a number of reinforcements arriving for the beasts. Letting his pale fingers slip over the side of his mask before resting near the small hole, R-W turned his head a bit before responding. Rodger that. His suave, yet bored voice left his mask with zero sign of urgency. Himself and his trio of comrades where about to be outnumbered and he wasn't even given an exact number on those reinforcements either, but the man just couldn't muster an ounce of concern. Say something when a big bad is on it's way. These pups aren't exactly overwhelming us over here. He finished his response as his hand dropped from his mask. Sadly, his small rag-tag squad was supposed to be running distraction as an actual group was confirming a bit of intel on the werewolves on this side of the city. It was clear by the measly amount of force that met them on this street, the beasts were not falling for it. Given his years of experience in this strange gang war between the vampires and werewolves, R-W was more than aware that he was failing to adequitely garner the attention of the actual threats among the ranks of those werewolves. Though he was hoping he could just relax and think about something as mundane as the upcoming tests in his classes, it would appear that he might have to use specific abilities and join the battle below.