Post by kyrarei on Sept 18, 2009 13:54:06 GMT -7
There had been rumors floating around Izan headquarters for awhile now. But the thought of such a thing had to be just that, a rumor. Right? Something like an anti-virus, made for the blood of the werewolves. Something to stop the change. The perfect weapon for vampires to use.
The lab that was working on this fascinating drug supposedly was destroyed. The one little rat that survived, the first and only that lasted through all of the tests. Subject 356. A young boy with ashen colored hair, and blue-violet eyes. A runaway. How he had escaped was beyond anyone's knowledge, most that knew anything of him wound up dead by the hands of the one organization that funded it most. Izan.
The one foundation that could support such extensive research. And yet? Only the highest of the high in this society knew of this lab, of the experiments they were doing. And only those same people would know of his escape.
The one that had been "the cure". The one that was the only positive tested subject. The only one it worked for. What was it that made him so special over every other subject? No one knew. But in order to complete "the cure" they needed his blood. If the wolves were to get their hands on him, they would attempt to copy the idea, create a cure for the vampyre disease. Or they would kill him.
For the higher ups of Izan, that would be a bad thing. All of the money, all of the work, all of the effort, the hope that that they had poured into this project. Why would they let all of that go to waste now? No. They needed to find him. But where to start their search? And how many would they dispatch to find him? Who would find this mission important enough to carry out?
The only last questions. Would they kill the boy as well? Or keep him, study him, retract "the cure" from his blood? Was he worth it? Who of their group was trustworthy enough for such an important mission?
!@#$%^&*(-) <----- ((pov change, now to follow the beloved cure))
Darkness all around him. The scent of his own blood filling his nostrils. This was not a good way to start the night, nor would it be a good night in general. A soft whimper escaped his throat. Was this to be the end of him? No. He was alone for now, huddled inside of a tiny little box under a dumpster in a back alley. Hidden away from many of the creatures of the night.
He was frightened. Too many times this night had he come close to feeling the breath of them on the back of his neck. Cold from the vampyres, hot and slimy from the wolves. Scared as he was, he refused to back down. Refused to go home. At least, to the home he had known for the past 11 years.
That place had done horrible things to him. and he would never return. He curled up farther, wrapping a tiny bit of dirty cloth around the wound on his leg. He had been cut while trying to run away. Wolves were after him. And on the night of the full moo, they were just a little stronger than he was. Only a little more protected because of all of that fur. Don't get me wrong. The boy was fast, strong as well, with all of the heightened sensitivity the moon provides in all of her pale glory.
The soft sound of the wind howling through the alley, made him shiver. Only then did he realize how much blood he had actually lost while trying to fight them. He needed to move again. They would track the very stench his blood carried. As sweet as the blood of an innocent was, the poison that ran through his veins made it carry.
He crawled out from under the dumpster, letting his eyes scan around him. He saw no danger. Scented no approaching enemy. He ran for it, his leg screaming in agony at him. But it would heal in time. He ran, faster and farther than he had before, until he reached a building, that he thought was abandoned. Inside, he collapsed in his exhaustion, his eyes opened warily searching for anything that would try to approach.
The lab that was working on this fascinating drug supposedly was destroyed. The one little rat that survived, the first and only that lasted through all of the tests. Subject 356. A young boy with ashen colored hair, and blue-violet eyes. A runaway. How he had escaped was beyond anyone's knowledge, most that knew anything of him wound up dead by the hands of the one organization that funded it most. Izan.
The one foundation that could support such extensive research. And yet? Only the highest of the high in this society knew of this lab, of the experiments they were doing. And only those same people would know of his escape.
The one that had been "the cure". The one that was the only positive tested subject. The only one it worked for. What was it that made him so special over every other subject? No one knew. But in order to complete "the cure" they needed his blood. If the wolves were to get their hands on him, they would attempt to copy the idea, create a cure for the vampyre disease. Or they would kill him.
For the higher ups of Izan, that would be a bad thing. All of the money, all of the work, all of the effort, the hope that that they had poured into this project. Why would they let all of that go to waste now? No. They needed to find him. But where to start their search? And how many would they dispatch to find him? Who would find this mission important enough to carry out?
The only last questions. Would they kill the boy as well? Or keep him, study him, retract "the cure" from his blood? Was he worth it? Who of their group was trustworthy enough for such an important mission?
!@#$%^&*(-) <----- ((pov change, now to follow the beloved cure))
Darkness all around him. The scent of his own blood filling his nostrils. This was not a good way to start the night, nor would it be a good night in general. A soft whimper escaped his throat. Was this to be the end of him? No. He was alone for now, huddled inside of a tiny little box under a dumpster in a back alley. Hidden away from many of the creatures of the night.
He was frightened. Too many times this night had he come close to feeling the breath of them on the back of his neck. Cold from the vampyres, hot and slimy from the wolves. Scared as he was, he refused to back down. Refused to go home. At least, to the home he had known for the past 11 years.
That place had done horrible things to him. and he would never return. He curled up farther, wrapping a tiny bit of dirty cloth around the wound on his leg. He had been cut while trying to run away. Wolves were after him. And on the night of the full moo, they were just a little stronger than he was. Only a little more protected because of all of that fur. Don't get me wrong. The boy was fast, strong as well, with all of the heightened sensitivity the moon provides in all of her pale glory.
The soft sound of the wind howling through the alley, made him shiver. Only then did he realize how much blood he had actually lost while trying to fight them. He needed to move again. They would track the very stench his blood carried. As sweet as the blood of an innocent was, the poison that ran through his veins made it carry.
He crawled out from under the dumpster, letting his eyes scan around him. He saw no danger. Scented no approaching enemy. He ran for it, his leg screaming in agony at him. But it would heal in time. He ran, faster and farther than he had before, until he reached a building, that he thought was abandoned. Inside, he collapsed in his exhaustion, his eyes opened warily searching for anything that would try to approach.