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Posted: **26 Oct 2017, 10:59**

[for_peace][/for_peace]

At first, Freddie felt nothing.

He spent the remaining hours of the first night texting Hannah; he told her he was settled, that he’d had the first injection. He told her all about the room, and what Gideon had told him. He’d been told he wasn’t a prisoner, so he got up and had a look around, though made sure not to mess with anything that he didn’t have the expertise to mess with. He could have taken pictures. He could have sent them elsewhere. There were plenty of things he could have done but didn’t. Who was he going to share the information with? Truth be told, Freddie wasn’t interested in the politics. He wanted peace, and stirring another terrorist raid wasn’t on the agenda. He wasn’t a spy. Espionage was not his forte.

If the cure worked, he would tell people about it. He hoped that Gideon and the scientists here would offer the cure free of charge to those who needed it, though he doubted he’d get much information out of them regarding their plans if he were to ask. Though, that wouldn’t stop him from asking, later. It might help kill some time.

When Raul returned to check on him, Freddie asked if it were possible to get some books. Any books, it didn’t matter. Just something to read while he was sitting around, waiting for something to happen. By the time said books arrived, however, Freddie was already laying down, pillow over his head to block out the light. Weariness had crept up on him, and sleep was not far behind. The sun hadn’t risen, yet, but fatigue claimed him.

The next night, Freddie woke to the sound of someone laughing. He assumed it was the lab technicians, scientists. Someone there to help with the cure. His eyes moved lazily beneath his closed eyelids, still so tired. It was unusual to feel so tired. Normally, as soon as the sun had completely sunk below the horizon, he was suddenly awake, suddenly alert, with all the cooped-up energy of a healthy man in the prime of his life. Now, however, he felt like he was coming down with something. A fever, maybe, though he didn’t feel hot, or unreasonably cold.

The island, over there. I’ve walked its length twice over. But it’s too far away now…

It took a good five seconds for Freddie’s eyes to split open, the blue violent in the whiteness of the light spilling into the room. He sat up and looked around. No one was there. He could have sworn someone was whispering in his here. Whispering, something about islands…

He let out a deep sigh. He told himself he’d been dreaming, in that state between sleep and consciousness. It wasn’t anything. It was just his imagination doing strange things in this unfamiliar place. He missed Hannah, too. This was the first night he’d woken up without her by his side in… well, months. Here, he was alone.

To pass the time, he moved the bed so it was up against a wall. He’d got dressed in a pair of track suit pants and plain t-shirt, his feet bare. He was comfortable, at least. The pillow was propped up against the wall and the books laid out beside him; he texted Hannah to tell her he was awake. He was still safe. He didn’t tell her about the whispering, but told her how tired he felt, like there was sand in his eyes.

He was a good patient. Raul came and went to check on him; he took blood, checked his eyes, and numerous other tests that Freddie didn’t ask about. He did, however, ask if they were testing on animals; he’d been hearing them, on and off. Whimpers and yelps, howls, as if from monkeys. Growls, both timid and vicious. They were just echoes; he wondered if they were coming through from another room through the vents.

Raul assured Freddie there were no animals; none that were making that much noise, anyhow. He took notes. Freddie, too, took notes. Suddenly he felt cold, and it wasn’t fever. It was the cold of fear; a prickling of it, just beneath his skin. Subtle, but it was there. Was he going to lose his mind? Was he going to go insane? Was this just the beginning of the end? What point was there in being human if he didn’t have the wits to enjoy his life? He swallowed down the fear. He’d keep going. These things could pass.

The weariness only increased, and Freddie found himself sleeping more than not. With each day that passed, every night that he woke up the more he felt like an old man. His muscles ached—an ache that penetrated right down to the bone. The sleep was restless; he kept hearing footsteps, as if someone were coming to check on him, but when he opened his eyes there was no one there. And the whispers, too—that first one wasn’t his imagination, he concluded. They were meaningless, like disjointed conversations, like he’d been dropped into the middle of someone else’s tete-a-tete. Sometimes the whispers were urgent, sometimes they were just meandering nothings.

It was disconcerting.

By the beginning of the third night, after confessing all this to Raul and enduring another round of tests, he asked if Hannah would be allowed in. He no longer wanted to be alone. He’d understood why, to begin with; by now, they should know that he didn’t intend to sabotage them, and he vouched for Hannah’s trustworthiness. He didn’t mean to use his powers, though he was almost relieved that they were still there. His tongue was silver, his pleading weighted with conviction and persuasion.

”Please. You’d allow a dying man’s relatives space his bed, wouldn’t you? I’d really prefer not to go through this alone…”

Posted: **01 Nov 2017, 21:36**

How long had Freddie actually lived with Hannah? More than weeks, and more than a few months. While they started out platonically as roommates, they were no where near that now. Still, even if they weren't together romantically, and Freddie still lived with her, Hannah knew she would miss the company. Miss his presence, to be precise. A few hours without Freddie wasn't that big of a deal, they weren't attached at the hip or anything; Freddie was coming to terms with who he was and his old life at his pace, and Hannah was adapting to a new life, with a new job with Iris. Not something part-time either; as when Hannah first worked for Iris during the hustle and bustle of last year's holiday season.

But, when Hannah got a text that it could be a couple of days before they saw the other, her heart sank a little. Days? What if something went wrong on day one? Sure, she knew where he was, but no one was letting Hannah past the mysterious elevator without permission, or without wanting to take the cure herself. She had thought about suggesting it to Freddie, but she side on the error of caution. The first night had been...tolerable. Hannah counted the three days down by the hours that passed. One hour down was one hour closer to seeing Freddie and having him back home. But, when she woke the next night, Hannah glanced to where Freddie usually slept and sighed. While the hours had passed, she no longer saw the positives of that time passing. All Hannah could focus on was how much she missed him in the apartment.

Miss you. Keep me in the loop as much as you can. I don't care if you text me every hour, or ten minutes. xoxo Hannah She texted Freddie, a little frustrated that it wasn't already the night he would be able to come home. With a deep, heavy sigh, Hannah set the phone on the bedside table and went about her pretty usual routine, before heading to work.

When the third night came, Hannah woke up in a little more optimistic mood than she had the night before. She didn't waste any time grabbing her phone, checking it and then sending Freddie a text. Can't wait to see you! When will you be home? Should I meet you there, or somewhere? With the message sent, Hannah began to shower in anticipation that she would see Freddie sooner than later.

Posted: **01 Nov 2017, 22:58**

[against_peace][/against_peace]

"You're not dying." Raul stated flatly with a grim smile on his features. "I mean, you're already dead. You know, technically." He chuckled, then shrugged his shoulders at the request. "It's really not up for me to decide, Freddie. I'm just one of many instruments trying to get this thing to work to get you to the way you want to be..." Raul felt bad for Freddie, as he did for any 'lab rat' that was more than an actual rat. Rats were easier to deal with, they didn't complain, even when they were on death's door. "I'll talk to Gideon and see." Was all Raul could promise, as he took more notes of what Freddie told him and wrote why he may be experiencing what he was experiencing. "Try and get some rest. You're pretty safe here." He assured Freddie, wondering if he was going stir crazy after only three days and nights.

Hours later:

"I think it would do him some good. Interaction with others outside of the staff. Besides, maybe if whoever he wants to come here sees that he's alright, maybe they'll sign on board for the cure? Two or three subjects are better than one." Raul pointed out, after Gideon's dead set determination not to let anyone in or out until Freddie was making some 'positive' progress from being released from his vampire illness. But, the last thing Raul suggested made him stop and think. Two or three was better than one, especially if all two or three were success stories; even to some degree. "Sure. One or two guests. No one else. This isn't some motel six with a revolving door or something." Gideon agreed, before he took the notebook filled with tonight's notes to look over. Some things he wouldn't understand, given there were some scientific and medical terms Gideon had no clue on, but he would ask when the need rose.

Text:
To: Esli

Message: First subject having some sort of results. But he might be bat **** crazy. Next injection in a couple nights. May have more potential test subjects in the night to come.

Posted: **07 Nov 2017, 14:40**

[for_peace][/for_peace]

The symptoms got worse before they got any better. Three days came, the third night reaching its zenith and Freddie waiting for a reply from the scientists. Irritation was the least of it as his brain felt coddled in cotton wool. The room was both there and not; it was like he was looking down on it. He imagined himself a rat in a maze, the white room he was caged within merely the centre of the maze. How in the world was Hannah going to find him there?!

I’m going to be longer than three days,” he’d replied in one of his more lucid moments. But I’ve asked them to let you in. You can come and see me. he’d said. Freddie hoped that she would know what to do; that she would come to the lab, that she would tell the too-cheerful glorified secretary that she was there to visit and that she would be let through without preamble or issue. He hoped that communication was good in this lab, and that the granted permission would travel through the right channels.

Although he’d been able to talk to Cytherea through telepathy it had been a struggle, more headache than anything else. Her concern thrummed through the invisible signals that connected them; she wanted to see him. She wanted to visit. He didn’t want to push his luck with the scientists, and nor did he think he was up for visitors. Cytherea would, of course, choose to come back now, of all times. Her face was a portrait from the past, an image of grief and guilt that spun a web around his heart and mind. It would only tighten the strings, to see her. To stare at her and be forced to remember all the things he knew would hurt.

He’d tried to summon Hannah as soon as the permission had been given but it hadn’t worked. It caused him too much pain, a machine that was broken, the rusted cogs splintered and entering his blood stream, digging and slicing into flesh from the inside out. He didn’t dare try again.

The irritation was due to many things. It wasn’t just the lack of power—that much he should have expected. One couldn’t be ‘cured’ without sacrificing the magic lended to a vampire. But he wondered whether he was doing the right thing. He thought of all the things he was capable of. Was he truly willing to give them all up to see the sunshine again?

The answer was always yes.

It wasn’t just the power he was losing, but his senses took a blow, too. When he’d first come to stay at the lab he’d been able to hear all sorts of things. The building, though sturdy, would still have its creaks and squeaks. He’d sense all the subtle shifts in Raul’s features just by looking. He’d be able to smell on Raul’s breath what he had eaten for lunch. Slowly, however, he started to feel as if he were losing his senses altogether—like his fingers were numb from cold and could feel nothing, like he had sand constantly in his eyes, blurring the outlines of things. Like there was cotton in his ears, his tongue burned so that the tastebuds were non-existent.

And all he could think about was Hannah, and how much he could not wait for her to be by his side.

Posted: **09 Nov 2017, 13:34**

Optimism was short lived when Freddie replied back to her. Hannah blinked and looked at the text, frowned and then exited out, and reopened it, as if the text hadn't come from him, or maybe she hadn't read it right. But, when the same answer smacked her in the face, Hannah's shoulders slumped a little bit. Minor defeat was felt and a sense of hopelessness. Was everything alright? Was he hurt? Was it even Freddie that was replying to her anymore?

Defeat turned into anger and Hannah was instantly mobilized and in action. She grabbed something that probably didn't even match, but she didn't care. Leggings, undergarments and a shirt and moved into the bathroom to quickly shower. Once she was showered, Hannah noticed how horribly paired the plaid leggings and printed shirt was, but she wasn't wasting time. If Freddie was hurt, wasting time would only hurt him more, and if he was something more...something worse...then what? Hannah didn't know, but she was sure she would find out, if that was what she was walking into.

I'm coming. She texted him, then stuffed the phone in her coat pocket on the way out. Hannah had absolutely no plan of action what so ever, other than to get to Freddie's side as quickly as she could. Keys were pulled out of her coat pocket for her SUV and apartment, the apartment was locked and Hannah was ready to roll, damp, disheveled hair, mismatched clothing and a lot of emotions she wasn't completely processing, as they came at her much like a tidal wave smacking the shorelines of some beach.

When Hannah got to the outskirts of the wooded area, she parked the car and glanced into the woods. While she might not have a gun, Hannah wasn't completely defenseless. More than a handful of years ago, the Yakuza made sure of that, still...a weapon to some degree wouldn't hurt. Especially since there were probably a lot more of them, than her. Hannah got out of the SUV, popped open the boot and pulled out a tool that she wouldn't honestly know how to use if she ever needed it, but it was the only metal, potentially dangerous thing in her possession at the moment. When the tire iron was in her left hand, Hannah slammed the boot shut, locked the SUV and made her way to the lab area.

She was at the front door in no time and banging on the steel door with the tire iron. She stood up tall, and in a rather defiant voice, made her presence known. "Hello! I'm here to see...Freddie." She glanced over to where one of two cameras were at, an expectant look on her face, as she waited to be let in. When there was a buzz and the door opened, there was that...woman. What had her name been again? Hannah couldn't recall, but the woman wasted no time in moving out of the way for Hannah. "We've been expecting you. Come on in." She glanced at the tire iron, then at Hannah. "You won't need that. Freddie is fine. Come see for yourself." A security guard came up to Hannah from the right, and another to flanked in from the left, but made no move to disarm her of the tire iron. "Okay. Lead the way."

Posted: **11 Nov 2017, 13:25**

[against_peace][/against_peace]There were many points that Raul made that were only positive points in alleviating someone of the vampire curse; should the cure work. And since the facility was secreted away in the wilderness and guarded, Gideon saw no real point in not letting one more vampire enter the building in hopes that one night that vampire would be a second specimen and hopefully a second success story. As instructed, the woman behind the desk brought the unknown, potential specimen to where the first specimen was being housed. Cameras and staff kept a pretty watchful eye on the two, even Gideon made sure not to be too far away from the laboratory; he had things to discuss with Raul anyways.

"How's the progress going?" Gideon asked outside the main lab area. "He's positive he's going to die, but...he's already dead." Raul said with a confused shrug, clearly neither men understanding that vampires could die, even if it was just a temporary thing. "What makes him think that? Can you tell?" Gideon asked, interested in learning more about every human being's nemesis in Harper Rock. "Well, there's really no way to monitor his vitals or statistics...but other than a few issues...it seems he'll be fine. I don't see any visible wounds on him, he's not losing blood anywhere that we can tell. So, everything seems to be on course-but remember, we don't know what the actual side affects are." Raul reminded Gideon as the two took a few steps away from the elevator. "I want you to keep reassuring him that he's fine. Even if it's not." Gideon looked at Raul pointedly, as the scientist frowned a little. "He's our first, but he won't be our last, and, we've got another potential as you pointed out.

"It would take weeks to alter what we've already got..." Raul interjected, indicating that the cure would need to be altered before given again, if they weren't successful with the first subject. "We don't have weeks when we've got another potential right here. Besides, I hear those commercials. Some people get side affects, some don't. Maybe she won't." Gideon shrugged, still determined to cure someone of vampirism, one way or another. "It would be unethical to give something that was fatal." He conceded with a shake of his head. "The fact they exist is unethical." Gideon glanced towards the rooms of glass in the lab area, before pressing the down button and heading to the main floor.

Posted: **17 Nov 2017, 14:00**

[for_peace][/for_peace]

The terrors started the night before Hannah arrived. Night. Day? He couldn’t tell anymore which was which. He had his watch and he had his phone but time wasn’t something that he paid much attention to, not when he had so much else going on. The dream started out ordinarily enough; it was a city scene, a street corner. Had he been holding a guitar? It didn’t matter. If he was, the instrument disappeared soon enough. There was a face he thought he’d recognised, and it called his name. Not Freddie, but Elliot. He’d followed, curious, the person belonging to the voice always just out of reach. So focused on finding the person, he’d paid no attention to where they were going, nor that they were powering up hill.

There was a rise, and the body went over it. Elliot followed at a strident pace, that voice calling out to him again. But when he stepped over the peak of the hill he realised it wasn’t a hill at all, but a cliff, and though he flailed and tried to veer back toward solid ground, there was no use. He hurtled forward into black space, falling, falling… and he woke up screaming.

In the darkness, he reached for a pen and paper. He wrote it all down before exhaustion pulled him back into sleep. But peace could not be found. Again, there was a voice. It called to him. He was in a cabin and there was a stranger there, but the stranger was not who was calling for him. The voice was almost desperate, now, as if it had lost him and was eagerly searching for him. There was a knife in his hand, now, and without preamble he stepped forward and sunk the knife into the stranger’s heart. Hot blood spilled out over his hand but there was nothing Elliot could do. He pulled the knife out and, rather than drop it like he wanted to, he stabbed again. And again. And he screamed all the while – he didn’t want to do this. This was not him. He was being coerced, forced; his body was not his own. It was being controlled by something else and then…

And then he was in a sewer tunnel, and instead of a knife he had a sword. And the sword had skewered the body of a young woman, her freckled face so innocent and naïve, her wide eyes deep with confusion and grief. And then it twisted, morphed, those soft lines turning hard and wretched, teeth stained with blood. Blood on her throat. Blood on her hands. Blood, matted into her hair.

You did this to me, Elliot Lancaster. This is all your fault. You are a monster. She said. Cytherea.

And, over the top of it all, that omniscient voice. It screamed, now, like a banshee. Elliot stumbled backward, though the Cytherea-creature chased him. He ran through the sewers, lost in a maze like a rat in someone else’s game. And the walls started crumbling. Beyond them was darkness. The floor fell away from beneath him, a great yawning crack in the fabric of the world and he was falling through. Falling.

Again, he woke screaming. Sweat soaked the sheets. Sweat! He fell out of the bed and crawled to a corner. The walls were hard and the floor harder. If he wasn’t comfortable, maybe he wouldn’t sleep. His eyes were bloodshot, his feet bare and toes white as they tug into the unforgiving floor. He rocked in place, shoulders thudding against the wall, fingers wrung together as his arms wrapped loosely around his knees. No, he definitely couldn’t do this alone anymore.

Posted: **18 Nov 2017, 00:47**

Freddie was fine they told her. Well, she would be the judge of that. While they made no attempt to disarm her, Hannah gripped the 'weapon,' tighter and held it closer to her body. When she heard what sounded like a scream, Hannah instantly recognized it as Freddie's. Fine, they had said. It sure didn't sound like he was fine.

Her steps went from an uncertain walk, to a hurried, almost frantic pace as she followed behind, then bypassed the scientist that had been leading the way. "Freddie!" Hannah shouted as they closed in on his...cage? Cell? Why was he in a room of glass?

Everything about what Hannah saw felt...wrong. Seemed wrong. He was in a room made of glass. Like a rat. And while they might have seen him as a rat to be experimented on, that was not who he was to Hannah. A hand unwrapped from around the tire iron so she could pound on the glass to get Freddie's attention. "Let him out. I said, let him out!" Hannah could only see someone who looked petrified and confused. And she didn't like that feeling for Freddie. She didn't like seeing her boyfriend like this.

When she had met Freddie, he was anything but scared-confused, sure, but not terrified. To see him cowering in a corner, made Hannah worried, and angry. This, this was the person who sired her (accidentally)! And the man she lived with-her boyfriend. The man she cared a great deal about, and no one was going to make him into their personal lab rat. "Let me in, or let him out." "The door isn't locked... The scientist spoke, looking at the security staff; it was clear they were on edge. At hearing that, Hannah dropped the tire iron, yanked open the door and rushed to Freddie's side. "Freddie, it's me. Hannah. I'm here to take you home." She stated calmly, crouching down to his height. Even at the prospect of bringing him home, Hannah still couldn't disconnect herself from an array of feelings. "This isn't worth it, Freddie. They're will be another way, one day." Freddie looked anything but cured in her mind and it was enough to make her want to pull the plug on the idea.

Posted: **25 Nov 2017, 00:04**

[for_peace][/for_peace]

There was a commotion outside of the ‘bedroom’ door and, by the time Freddie had wits enough to look up, to see what was going on, to translate it in his mind, Hannah was there. She was at his side, telling him she was taking him home. Telling him it wasn’t worth it. He didn’t bother to glance at the scientists, to see what they thought about that idea. He didn’t want to test them; would they even let him leave without having followed this thing to the bitter end? If he tried, would they just cage him, tie him down, lock him up? He had his freedom at the moment. They’d assured him he wasn’t a prisoner. And he didn’t want to become one.

It had become obvious that this cure was going to take more than three nights to complete and Freddie swallowed, shook his head. His fingers went through Hannah’s hair, stroked her cheek. She was there. She wasn’t a figment of his imagination. He wasn’t alone anymore. What had he gotten himself into? He wrapped her up in his arms, savouring the feel of her there with him.

”It was just a dream,” he said, though his reaction was rather severe for ‘just a dream’. ”A nightmare. I… guess I lost my memory for a reason. There were things, traumatic things I didn’t want to remember but they’re still there, in my psyche. And they came back to haunt me and I... “ he stopped and sighed, shaking his head. ”I’m fine. I want to keep going. It was just a nightmare…” he said.

In the grand scheme of things, nightmares weren’t physically damaging. Psychologically, maybe, but he had to face up to his past. He couldn’t keep running from it. Now, he had to turn around and embrace it. He had to get through the things that terrified him and return to the human he had once been. He only hoped the scientists didn’t ask about the specifics. They thought he was a vampire who claimed peace and serenity but he had killed. He’d not done so because he’d wanted to. He’d taken no pleasure in it. It had been a loss of control -- and that once because his sire had asked him to. Told him he had to, to protect some secret. And he’d done it, because he’d been so new, so fresh, and she was the fount of knowledge. Now, he hated her for it.

He did his best, then, to get up from the floor; his fingers tightly twined with Hannah’s, he approached the scientists. It was time to discuss sleeping arrangements -- because now that she was here, he wasn’t going to let her go.

~*~

The next week and a half was not a walk in the park.

What Freddie had signed up for was not what he was given; he had expected a few days stuck in a lab but now it was nearing on two weeks, and how much longer would he have to be there? How much longer would it take? Was it even working at all, or was it all a farce? They claimed a cure but it felt like one huge experiment, and he was just a lab rat.

It was easier with Hannah at his side, though he wondered whether it was doing her more harm than good. With her there he tried to make it seem less horrible than it was, and it worked to help calm his own emotions, too. Trying to be strong for Hannah meant being strong for himself, too -- though in the beginning it hadn’t been hard.

There were a few nights where he woke up screaming, scrambling in bed like the sheets were strangling him. He slept then only when he absolutely had to, when his body was far too exhausted to do anything but sleep. And once the nightmares had run their course he couldn’t feel much about them. One night he woke up and he felt absolutely numb. If he was questioned about his feelings he shrugged. When asked if he was okay he was surprisingly calm and at ease. Like a depressive on too much valium, he was barely there. There ought to be some feeling, and there was, to an extent. But it was trapped somewhere deep inside, smothered by mounds of gunk and cotton wool.

The nightmares became less intense with the emotional disconnection from them, like something had snapped on the inside and was now trying to realign itself. And while he and Hannah tried to while away the waking hours in their confined space he soon started to find it hard to stay upright. Darkness crawled at the edge of his vision and he was constantly blinking, eyes wide as he tried to keep it at bay. When it became obvious that he was prone to passing out, he tried not to move around too much. It was Hannah who’d saved him from a nose dive straight for the cold hard floor, catching him before he got there. They curled up in the bed to try watch Netflix, though Freddie could barely keep his eyes open and succumbed to the darkness more often than not.

How long he remained a narcoleptic invalid he didn’t know; he didn’t even know when he started to feel so damned cold, either. He requested an extra blanket from one of the scientists, thinking they must have just done something with the thermostat. But the blanket did nothing. His extremities were so numb with cold he thought they’d start going black from frost bite; it didn’t matter how much he asked them to turn up the heat or how many blankets were wrapped around him, he still shook with it, like he was in his own personal Antarctica with no escape.

And even then, if Hannah told him he should quit, he shook his head. No. He would see this through to the bitter end. He wasn’t going to have come this far only to give up because he was a little bit cold.

Well. Severely ******* freezing.

~*~

When he woke somewhere two weeks into the cure, he was finally semi-warm again. The relief flooded his limbs as he stretched in the bed, finally able to find a position that wasn’t curled up on himself, as if body heat might save him. He blinked and opened his eyes, wanting to tell Hannah, but when his eyes brushed her face -- a face he knew so well, a face whose contours he’d kissed a hundred times over -- he wanted nothing then to push her away. But he couldn’t touch her; he couldn’t bring himself to touch her. He rolled backwards out of the bed and paced to the furthest end of the room; whichever part was furthest from her. He didn’t know how to define it. Was it revulsion? No, not entirely. It was revulsion via fear. He was looking at Hannah through two different lenses; the one that knew her, that loved her, and the other that couldn’t recognise her as anything other than a vampire. A predator.

It made no sense.

He didn’t want to hurt her, but nor could he go back to the bed. He wanted to be anywhere but in the same room with her; but he couldn’t keep his eyes from her. Like she might attack him at any minute, he couldn’t, and wouldn’t turn his back…

Posted: **25 Nov 2017, 14:55**

[against_peace][/against_peace]

He didn't like that there were two vampires at one time in the compound, but Raul had made a fair point. Still, security had been amplified at his request, and anything that might be considered a weapon wasn't allowed in the living quarters at any point. A few weeks had gone by, as well as a few injections and Raul had shared a few interesting things. Things that didn't make any sense, but then again there were a lot of things about vampires Gideon didn't know about.

And then, Raul told him that he thought the vampire that was being tested on was suffering some side effects of the mental kind. Without saying that he might be going crazy, but implying as much. Well, he didn't expect for things to go smoothly, but no vampire would sign up to be part of this process if they knew that a vampire had gone crazy. Not that he planned on broadcasting that, but the female vampire knew that. So, now what to do about it?

He had a few options and thoughts on the matter. Kill her was the first thought. Inject her was the second one. Willing or not, which would probably be the former option. Raul didn't like either of those options, for a scientist, the guy had this annoying high ground thing going on. And it was pretty annoying. Maybe he needed to suggest that they pay him a little more money to sway the guy's convictions a little bit.

"How many more injections do you think he'll need?" Gideon asked as he looked between Raul and a female lab scientist who had been observing Patient 0 when Raul wasn't. "Well, his body is showing signs of something...the real question is...do we want a crazy vampire on our hands?" It seems as if his body is trying to convert to humanistic characteristics-the being cold idea...but again..he may become dangerous and jeopardize the research. Gideon shrugged his shoulders. The only good vampire was a dead vampire, or a cured one and if the cure wouldn't work...

"He still wants to proceed with the process. Who knows how long he's been a vampire for? We can't expect immediate results." Raul interjected, adding in, "Besides, we've more security guards than ever." Gideon nodded his head, acknowledging the truth behind that. "For good reason." He glanced to the clear wall of barriers that housed the two vampires, then glanced back at Raul. "Let me put something into perspective for you. There's only two options. He's cured, or he's dead. We can't afford for any vampire to be running the streets, let alone a crazy one. Few more weeks of injections, but I expect something more than he might be going crazy reports in two weeks time." Gideon moved to the elevator, pushed the button and went back to thinking about the other vampire-the female one. No point in wasting a potential specimen. If Patient 0 was a bust, then Patient 1 might have better results with a few tweaks of the cure.

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