Killers embrace. (Pi dArtois)

[vadablade]

His body screamed in pain, the snow falling on him as he tried to breath. The knife in his chest causing his lungs to fill, if only he could of foreseen this outcome. His heart thumping in his chest and ears, the snow falling as the group of around 30 blood thieves approached him, his gun long discarded. He watched them as he coughed, he took a few down with him so he was at peace. "Come what may, I still took you with me. Deaths embrace is a welcome hold then your mind could comprehend."

His voice catching in his throat as he remembered the choices he made to lead him here, to this death. He remembered the snow falling on his cloak as he walked the streets, shivering from the chill in the wind. He stumbled upon a deal of some kind, and like an idiot he fired his gun at the 3 men holding a forth down. After the bullets ripped into the blood thieves chest he tried to find the man they were attacking, but he was long gone.

He heard sirens in the distance so he ran off into the sewers, going deeper into the unknown, before he emerged several blocks over. His eyes readjusting to the new light, his black leather doc martin shoes digging into the snow. He walked past a woman who seemed to be kissing a males neck, he was lucky, she was stunning. He smirked as he walked on, careful not to disturb anyone, his eyes scanning the streets, those men had to have friends.

He turned into a parking lot when he saw them, at least 40 men all walking at him, all wearing the same clothes those others wore. "You, come here." He heard the voices but decided to get out of dodge, and turned as he took of up the street. He noticed the man staggering around as if dazed, he would have shouted but a bullet ripped through his left arm. He spun and fired several bullets into the horde before they separated. He noticed 2 drop as he rounded a corner and began to fire into the area.

He took off down the Street and spun as he shot more, he emptied his clip as he frowned and tossed the gun at the group. He had taken a further 2 down, only what, 36 left? He withdrew his long bladed sword and steeled himself. As the first person came around the bend he let his blade bite into his stomach and sliced it open. He ran and jumped from the building as he cut into another. Bullets started to slam into the buildings around him as he took cover behind the body of the dead man. He felt the bullets slicing over him as they got around his makeshift shield.

He pulled the uzi from the dead body as he used it to spray over the group and ran around the building and into the back yard. He cursed as he felt a dagger ripping into his chest as he noticed the man stepping around the corner, the whites of his eyes as vada dug his sword into him. They both fell but only through pure sheer of will, or adrenaline, did vada stand and move off to the back wall and sat. He pulled out 5 throwing knives and waited. If he was to die, then he would take as many as he could.

His heart pounded in his ears, surely it wouldn't end here, surely he could over come this pain. It was foolish, but he would go down fighting like a demon from hell itself. As they rounded the corner a few laughed, they were the 5 he threw the knives at. 3 dropped dead, the other 2 his aim was off, he was getting sloppy in his weakened state. He looked at the mass growing as he coughed and slowly felt the chill of the nights embrace, he was glad to take as many as he had, his only regret was he didn't take enough.

[Pi dArtois]

Hunting and gathering, hunting with a little gathering, hunting in order to gather, that was the plan for tonight, a night with a plan and in that plan Pi was looking for items she needed to make weapons. There were weapons parts she needed, and some of them she could only get from the catacombs or sewers, the slums too but Michael had set up permanent shop there and he didn’t need her help to find what she needed. But this part of what needed to be done wasn’t high on her ‘Awesome things to do with my evening’ list.

It wasn’t her favourite past time, but it was a necessary evil if she wanted to make better weapons for the family and for herself. Now that she’d come close to perfecting the arms she was making she wanted to push herself, improve the parts past breaking point (and sometimes breaking them completely), but it took failure (sometimes lots of it) to achieve a goal and Pi was getting really good at getting this part of it wrong. And she was burning through high end parts in the effort.

The night had remained chilled, the storm featured prominently on the Doppler for the lower South Eastern part of North American had left Canada reeling in its wake, the back end of the storm leaving the more remote parts of the country under a heavy layer of winter weather. And Pi was out in it.

She didn’t really want to be. It wasn’t snowing, but it was cold enough to be bitter and for her to think herself crazy to be here when there were any number of buildings/houses she owned with central air or a fire place. So many, yet here she was, walking through the streets, searching the muddy corners of the city for the thing she needed because she was working her way through all of the parts she had.

Pi didn’t like to intervene in things like the drama playing out in front of her. She wasn’t one to stick her nose in these days, especially when it came to a rather irate group of Blood Thieves and one wounded lone victim fixing to get his *** kicked. He wouldn’t last long, not if the ever increasing spread of blood along the front of his body was any indication.

But the odds against the man irked her. Someone had called out the ‘overkill squad’ when they decided to send forty people against this one poor ********. She did wonder what he’d done to warrant such level of certain death but that small curiosity was overwhelmed by her indignant sense of justice. Really, how fair were these odds, for a man who was obviously not vampire (cause one stab wound wouldn’t bring about such a level of incapacity).

So while it wasn’t her default setting to butt her nose into the affairs of others, she felt justified in her decision because the man obviously needed a few odds stacked in his favour, because currently, he has zero and death was a dangling sickle over his head.

When she pulled Carys and her sword she had only intended to even those bookie odds into a fairer fight. Except, with Pi on the side of the lone man, their pairing more the compensated for the numbers. He wasn’t dead yet, which was obvious by throwing knives that found their target in the throats of three more assailants and the rest she mowed down with economical movements of her arm and the slide of sword opening up bodies to the left and right of her forward progress. Ten, then Twenty dropped, bodies, obscene and hard to hide bodies lay in groaning heaps at her feet leaving eight to two odds, those eight survivors staring at her blood speckled face as if she were a horrific apparition come to claim their souls for hell.

Then she smiled, flashing her fangs. And watched as they **** themselves.

[vadablade]

He watched the men approaching him, he could still here the thumping of his heart in his ears. He never understood why the movies said you life flashed before your eyes when you died, all he saw was the group around him. He longed for a better image, anything but these men staring at him with the look of death in their eyes.

He gathered his strength and stood, his sword being used as a crutch, and steeled himself. He was going to go out if style, if not in an explosion of fireworks, then the clashing of steel on steel. He coughed up blood as he knew he didn't have long, this was going to be tricky. He took one unsteady step after the other and thought he was going insane.

Before him stood a small army, and then after several heartbeats there were only 8 and a woman. He looked at her, covered in blood and standing there, the vision of the lady of death herself. He Slowly drew himself back as he took the chance to lunge at one of the men. His blade slicing into one then another.

He continued the dance that formed in his head, each step the perfect placement for his task. He darted around and spun as he narrowly avoided the blades, soon he had dropped 4 of the remaining 8. His vision fading as he lost the dance and his footing and fell. He landed heavily on his side as he fought to regain his focus, each movement sending a sharp pain through his body.

His vision choose that moment to falter and caused his eyes to go hazy, sadly he wasn't expecting to make it out of this one. He turned to the woman and smiled, she seemed stunning, surely someone who could even the odds so well would be able to make it out without harm. He pushed off of the ground as he needed to continue, his blade slick with the blood dripping from it. It was odd how he kept fighting, how he managed it he would never know.

His heart seemed to slowly stop thumping in his ears, his eyes loosing focus as he lashed out once more. His ferocious attack catching a sword as he groaned. The pain jolting up his arm as he dropped his sword and fell backwards panting. Short shallow breaths was all he could manage as he waited for the embrace of death to take him, his energy spent his will finally shattering.

[Pi dArtois]

“Go away.” Pi said to the four that remained. Enough had been wounded tonight and she didn’t have the stomach for more. She didn’t want to watch another human being fall on their face, the rictus of surprise pulling their lips into an o-shaped grimace.

She was done with it. Being good at something you were slowly losing the stomach for was one hell of an irony. Being efficient at making dead bodies were bound to wear on a person’s soul about the same time. Pi had believed becoming a vampire would sharpen the need, make her hungrier for the urge, the blood and the power she stole from the lives she took. It was proving as untrue as other myths that had been dispelled over the years as a vampire.

Now, when she stood in the circle of this blood the only energy she could drum up was one to find a way to get home as soon as possible to wash this crap off her body before it dried and she had to take a scrubbing brush to it.

He was going to die, this human with his wobbling sword arm and blood pouring from wounds that wouldn’t knit themselves closed fast enough to save him. Even her as a vampire would have taken a few days to fix what had been broken on this man. It was little wonder he could keep to his feet at all.

The remaining four took her order to heart. They didn’t stick around to ask questions at her magnanimous decision to save them, nor did they attempt to inflict more harm as they shot past the human who looked like he was standing on his last leg. She walked forward.

She slid Carys back into the cross holster along her back, then did the same for the smooth sword. When she stopped in front of the man, her hands were empty, her gaze curiously watchful.

“You’ll die soon.” She stated matter of factly. “You have lost a lot of blood, and there is.. zero chance you will make it to hospital.” She finished, her French accent wreathed her words and rolled her r’s.

“Is there someone you would like me to call?”

[vadablade]

He watched the others run, the first part of the battle over, now if only this pain would fade away. He looked into the womans eyes as he shook his head, the smallest of effort needed to send pain flaring through his body once more. His eyes slowly shutting as he looked down his body. It wasn't going to be a fun night for him at all.

His hand let go of his blade as he slowly brought his hand to his pocket. He fished out a single photo of a little girl with blonde hair and a red dress. He slowly looked at the photo as he shook his head once more. " No one to call, all gone. " His hand gripping the knife as he pulled it out and then pressed into the wound.

He groped around and found a gun and grunted, this is going to hurt, but he had to continue. He fired the gun into the ground several times before he pressed the heated metal against the wound to help seal it. He winced as he looked at the woman again and then finally took her in.

" You are rather a beautiful sight, I am glad it will be my last. My tasks nearing completion. " He was a little annoyed he wouldn't finish but he couldn't help it, personal problems usually die with you. His crystal blue eyes slowly running over her face. " My name is vadablade gyre, and I thank you for getting involved. I had fun, wish we could fight together more. " His mind racing as he coughed, he had taken french, but the words seemed to swirl around, maybe he took a blow to the head, well he knew he had but didn't enjoy thinking. " Mon ange de la mort. "

[Pi dArtois]

Pi’s smile was short and sharp and razor thin. How many times had she been called various forms of the same name. How many lives had she taken because she’d been asked to, because she’d deemed it necessary because the collateral damage was appropriate when balanced with the lives of the many. It always seems like an easy rationale, that you have actioned a cessation of life in order for other lives to continue, but those were rationales of the men who pushed the button to let the missile launch, with little face to face with the outcome of their actions. Hers was a very personal finality, where she watched life slowly drain from the person’s expression, muscles sagging along cheek and eyes, giving up as the body shut down non-essential functions to keep the heart, the lungs and other organs going.

“Vous devriez dire se coucha. Vous êtes blessé et vous serez plus à l'aise .” she replied.

Soon he’d topple over, his legs falling out from under him and the weight of his body dragging him to the ground where he’d sigh, resting finally, his body still frantically trying to mitigate damage it had no hope of healing.

“I will wait here with you, if you would like.” She offered. She wasn’t a fan of the death vigil, had done some very stupid things because the mistakes she had made in the past had meant she’d needed to watch someone die that she hadn’t wanted to die. But she was past that now. There would be no surprise vampires popping up because she couldn’t control her own instincts.

There would be no more Robert Pratts of Heaths. Vampires who couldn’t live this live at all, or live it in any way that was without drama. She’d learned that much at least. How to sit, and watch death and be content to let it come.

Of course, that was easily said, when she wasn’t the one actually dying.

[vadablade]

His hand ran down his side as he gently smiled at the woman, he wondered if he could ask her for the gift to fight this wound off. He slowly sighed as he stared at her fangs and then shivered. He should of been scared, but taking on a group of blood thieves and still remaining? That means she must be good, not one of those cinema things. He gathered his courage, which for a man on the edge of death it wasn't hard.

"Fair maiden on the night, angel of the god death. I ask of you, can you give me the gift of the damned and allow me to finish my quest? You can say no, I shall not hold it against you at all." His voice soft as he let his eyes rest on hers. The soft drumming of his heart growing weaker.

If she said no, then he would welcome death gladly and if she said yes? He would have to adjust, surely it would be less painful then this. He lifted his hand to her cheek. I would like to somehow repay you for tonight too.

[Pi dArtois]

Pi’s head tilted to the side, her expression that of her wolf that resided just below the surface of her skin; the white wolf with darker brown along the saddle between shoulders and haunch. Her eyes shifted too, taking on the large brown iris of the animal, the blue disappearing as if the wolf wanted to come out and inspect the man who had asked, ever so nicely whether he could become one of them, a vampire, a night dweller.

It wasn’t something she’d considered at all and with a small moue of indecision she took a step back, her gaze serious and considering. She hadn’t sired anyone in.. well, not since the one she hadn’t told anyone about yet. A man from her past who had jumped into her present bringing with him unwanted thoughts of a military past she had intended to keep very much a secret. Just as her time in the military (a good part of it anyway) was a secret.

But to be asked, to have a request put in front of her and to make that request a reality. Could she give him credit for realizing his predicament and choosing a way (a desperate way) to save his own life. Could she not give him credit for that will to live, and the bravery it took to ask at all.

The wolf stayed with her, turning the scene into art noire grey scale, leeching the scene of colour and removing the ugly red stains soaking through his shirt and sanitizing the moment.

“You think you know what you ask.. but this isn’t freedom you receive, or carte blanche to be whatever you desire… there are rules, and there are consequences. And you are dying.. and will grab any chance to live.”

Crouching, Pi swiped her hand through the black and white blood along his neck, feeling the viscous liquid against her fingertips, rubbing them together. “Why would I turn you?”

[vadablade]

His eyes grew heavy as he shut them, was it his imagination or was it getting harder to open them? He tried to open his eyes as he just gave up trying. He wondered about everything, was he really going to end it all this way? All these years and now only a few men have finished him.

His heart seemed to fade as the beat in his ears just vanished, his breathing laboured. He forced his eyes open one last time, was her eyes always brown? It didn't matter, he had given into the desire to survive, to fight and was asked why. He didn't have the strength to fight anymore, nothing seemed to make sense. The world became darker as he felt his body shutting down.

This light everyone saw must only be seen by the righteous, and he was far from that. He pictured the little girl, the last person he had helped, the final family he brought together. His entire life seemed to be filled with nothing more then helping others, never finding his family that vanished on him. His voice just rattling in his throat as he tried to speak and failed.

His strength failed him completely as he gave in to the wound in his chest. He was unable to do much right now, he looked at the one option he had to walk away and then passed out. He lost the ability to continue as his lungs filled completely and the adrenalin had passed from him.

[Pi dArtois]

Well, crap, he was going to die. Without answering her question. How inconsiderate.

It wasn’t that Pi was without empathy for the struggle this man was going through. She could well imagine the painful pull of air through his lungs, the hard fought wheeze as he attempted to continue the bodily functions that would keep his body alive. His brain working overtime to ensure the vessel could sustain itself. It was a terrible thing, feeling yourself perish.

It wasn’t something many woke up from and remember as a memory of their beginnings. And it wasn’t entirely one she cherished for herself. Because at the time of your death you don’t really believe in the ability of anyone to bring you back. You really do believe that the end is coming and whatever sum of good and bad deeds you have accumulated over a life will come to fruition before the great gates of judgment (if you believed in suck things) or the fate of your next life decided (if you believed in those things too), because no one wants to come back as a dung beetle. Not really.

She knew the moment his heart stopped, the rhythmic bu-boom stuttering to a weakened last thump before giving up its last. The billow of lungs belched a long slow hiss of escaping breath, the leech of H2O the final hurrah for the organs she knew would no longer sustain life (not even his new one).

No, this man would answer no more questions, not hers or anyones. Not now, and maybe not ever. Not unless she did as he asked her and changed his life forever.

Pi sat back on her heels and contemplated the corpse in front of her. She didn’t have long before the point of no return was reached and the corpse would remain that way, buried then beneath the ground, food for worms and returned to the dust it was created from.

He wasn’t an ugly man, if you could look past the blood that soaked his clothes and the now sunken cheeks and drooping mouth brought on by the lack of muscle tone in the face. His mouth hung open, jaw askew, tendons and skin the only thing holding the bones in place.

She’d need to act soon or he’d pass into the next world. God she hoped she wasn’t making a mistake. She hoped the honourable intention she saw in his valiant fight for life was really a thing and not something she’d fabricated about him from an imagination that only saw what she hoped was there.

With deliberate intention she reached behind her and cut her wrist against the sword along her back, the ridiculously sharp blade making quick work of the distance between skin and vein until she felt the pulse of her own blood run down her arm to pool around her elbow. Moving her arm over his open mouth she dribbled her blood as best she could past his lip, across his tongue and hopefully (if this was going to work) into his gullet.

“Here you go…” she said quietly. “Let us hope, for both our sakes, this is the right thing to do.”