How does one vampire?

[Gox]

Walking out of the bustling downtown area of Chicago, I stood on the precipice of adulthood, a mix of exciting emotions boiling in my gut or maybe that was my lunch, but either way, I had done it. Fresh out of college at the age of 20, which kind you is not normal. I spent more late nights studying movies than I thought was congruent to my mental or physical health, but I had done it, and my entrepreneurial dreams beckoned, calling me like the arms of a lover. With the minor mental monologe over I stopped walking waiting for the light to change but as i waited a pretty black cat walking infront of as i looked down i thought about changing directions just to avoid walking past the invisible line the little creature had cut but before I could it walked a around me making an almost perfect square, soon after the cat walked away while i looked with on with eyes of literal what the living fuck. You could say I'm superstitious, and I'd agree I'm half Haitian and half Haitian, and my granny taught me better, but soon the light changed and the crowd behind me started to press forward so I had to take a reluctant step forward. Soon, I crossed the street safely and exhaled. I had no plan on running foul of anything man-made or unnatural, not with my life looking up.

I continued walking down the street looking forward to telling my sister and mom the good news just the thought put a pep in my step shuffling down the road to my my own sound stark and my eyes glossing over the various people that walked past me and around me as the city lights twinkled, I stopped, i had reached my bus stop.

Barely 5 minutes after getting there a bus rolled to a stop in front me. Without hesitation, I bored and tapped my phone against the terminal and waited for it to flash green, letting me know I was safe to walk down and take a seat, even if I doubted that the bus driver cared. As the screen flashed green I shuffled down and walked my way to the back not and took a seat, I got comfortable knowing that my stop was a ways away but before I could even get my phone out to scroll the on one or more apps and websites the thing all public transit riders gate happened, a mixed bag of teenagers some looking older and others younger than me, walked on being loud and living but most concernedly running from another group with the sound of sirens following.

"Shit, just perfect "

As I sat there in my seat I let out a alright and verbal excrement knowing my rider was in for either a delay or just a long and loud ride, but before I could even I could contemplate getting off the sound of gunshots rangout I soon ducked and tried to make myself as little possible but a pain the my side made it difficult.

"Who shoots the back of a bus, can the motherfuckers just not aim"

As I lay on the floor, I tried to breathe, but immediately, a wet feeling filled my chest.

"Shit my lung"

I laid there now less in a coordinated huddle but more in a spark struggling to find a position that didn't hurt. Soon, I tried to get up, but I was back on the floor not by choice but because the shooting hadn't stopped. In fact the motherfuckers on the bus shot back but soon the dumb ass was the least of my concerns as trying to stand only caused my lung to fill with more blood.

I decided lying there was better than anything else right now, and so I did, but soon my breaths became shallower. It was getting harder and harder to breathe, but I had one saving grace: I could hear the sirens of cop cars a lot from what I could hear.

" 'bout fucking time"

That was a mistake, my body hurt more and a cold feeling had started to spread.....I don't think imma get a chance to tell my dad. He should be getting back soon, too. My mom always made our favorites when he got back....


----------------- Prologue p2.--------------


Walking out of the bustling downtown area of Chicago, I stood on the precipice of adulthood and true freedom, a mix of exciting emotions boiling in my gut. Maybe that was my lunch, but either way, I had done it. I'd practically graduated college at the age of 19, which, mind you, is not normal, but it was easy. Everything was like a lifelong case of Deja vu, and auto pilot studying wasn't needed, at least not more than a few hours a week. But I had done it; my entrepreneurial journey beckoned, calling me like the arms of a lover. With the minor mental monologe over I stopped walking waiting for the light to change but as i waited a pretty black cat walking infront of as i looked down i thought about changing directions just to avoid walking past the invisible line the little creature had cut but before I could it walked a around me making an almost perfect square, soon after the cat walked away while i looked with on with eyes of literal what the living fuck.

You could say I'm superstitious, and I'd agree I'm half Haitian and half Haitian, and my granny taught me better, but soon the light changed and the crowd behind me started to press forward so I had to take a reluctant step forward. But I crossed the street safely and exhaled I had no plan on running fowl of anything unnatural, not with my life just begging, I continued walking down the street, my mom still had work and my older sister was still at college so I was headed home to sleep and start planning out my next step.

My actual next step had me shuffling down the road to my own soundtrack and my eyes glossing over the various people that walked past me and around me as the city lights twinkled, but as I walked my eyes meet the ones of man bit before I could do more the blink he was gone, melding into the crowd like a ghost.

After that weird encounter, I soon reached my bus stop. Barely 8 minutes after getting there a bus rolled to a stop in front me without hesitation. I bored and tapped my phone against the terminal and waited for it to flash green, letting me know I was safe to walk down and take a seat, even if I doubted that the bus driver cared. As the screen flashed green, I shuffled down, walked my way to the back, and took a seat. I got comfortable, knowing that my stop was a ways away. Soon, I got comfortable and relaxed, and before the third stop, I was asleep.

I woke up too someone getting on the bus, without much of a rush I slowly got up and stretched, tears if riding the bust had given me the ability to take naps and wake up within 1 or 2 stops if my home, I glanced towards to front of the bust to see my what street I was on, with rush or panic I saw I was 1 stop past my apartment 2 blocks in distance. Grabbing my stuff, I pulled the stop line and rushed towards the exit.

Without a pause, the doors opened as the bus rolled to a stop.

"Thanks" was the best I could scream before I was out on the street and running to the sidewalk, once I had Stepped foot on concrete I was clear as soon began to walk now in a little bit more of a rush the before I decided to m take a shortcut and cut through a an ally.

As I walked on the dirty cracked and worn concrete venturing through the alley, not even halfway through I felt my body be restricted arms pressed to my side all before I felt two sharp pricks on the side of my neck and the I felt week it was an immediate sensation but even more I felt a slow cold sliding spreading creeping down my body.


Soon I started to try and move, panic spreading even faster than the cold. I started to thrash and move, but whatever had me just tightened its grip. As the cold finally covered the entirety of my body, I felt a searing pain from my back, and it was pushing forward. Soon, my pain made the cold look like goosebumps. I struggled to breathe, if only to gasp and scream, but as air filled my lungs, blood filled in an equal manner. As I felt that feeling of wetness and heaviness filling my lungs, another wave of deja vu flooded me.


.....cold now absolutely covered the entirety of my body but I felt as if I was missing something as if the step was only half finished, at that moment I looked down and saw a rather large sword was poking out of my chest. And then it clicked. My perception shattered, images overlapped, memories new....now old. A life almost the same but different.

Then it was dark.

"Twice fucking twice, I haven't even made it to 21 yet ....at least got got jade this time and laid....I guess it's okay."

 

[Gox]

"...coldness, absolute, covered the entirety of my body, yet I sensed a missing element, as if the step was only half finished. At that moment, I looked down and saw it—a rather large sword protruding from my chest. And then it clicked—perception shattered, images overlapped, memories new yet now old. A life almost identical but different.

Then, darkness embraced me.

"Twice, damn it. I haven't even hit 21 yet. At least I got Jade this time and laid. I guess it's okay."

The darkness cradled me as I traversed the liminal space between what was and what would be. Images flickered—Chicago's skyline. It was a disjointed montage, a tapestry of a world I had lived in twice now.

As the darkness enveloped my consciousness, the ephemeral transition led me to a place neither here nor there. A spectral realm where echoes of my former self danced with the promise of rebirth.

Then Chicago sprawled before me, unfolding like a time-lapse of a painting, its city lights further illuminating the night scenery. Soon, the world solidified, and the taste of blood lingered in my mouth, a visceral reminder of the sword that had once impaled me.

From where I stood, a black cat prowled into view, circling me once more before vanishing into the night. But before it completely disappeared, I saw it—its eyes held a knowing gleam, as if aware of the unspoken pact forged in understanding.

Then, an old man materialized from the shadows, his presence a blend of mystery and mentorship but altogether unfamiliar.

"Joseph Augustin," he intoned, his voice carrying a weight that dripped into my very mind, sticking to my thoughts, preventing me from thinking, from speaking—all of my attention forcefully drawn to his words. "You are reborn, a First Blood unbound by ties to sire or coven. Yours is a legacy untouched, a destiny unwritten."

His words echoed in the nocturnal air, unraveling intricacies that I didn't understand, as if all was supposed to be explained.

"Sire or born, you are unbound," the old man continued. "A First Blood, biologically distinct from the brethren, free to create and shape your lineage. Know your weaknesses—sunlight, silver, and faith. Know what you are—a First Blood, a vampire without sire or familia, tasked with ensuring the birth and life of not just the vampire race but their bloodline."

"Embrace your uniqueness, Joseph Augustin," the old man urged, fading into the shadows once more. "For you stand at the precipice of a symphony of shadows, where the nocturnal dance awaits your every step as a vampire."

As the old man faded, my mind cleared, the stick feeling dissolving, and the world around me shattered. And I was back, lying on the ground of an alley. Before I could piece together what had happened, I smelled it—gut-turning, stifling. I stopped breathing; I couldn't bear to smell it anymore. I pushed myself up, keeping my mouth shut and avoiding deep breaths. As I stood, my body felt weird—restricting, itchy skin, aching bones, screaming tendons, and tearing muscles.

Then it hit me like a car with no brakes. My body dropped as my stomach forcefully expelled everything. It didn't stop with lunch and breakfast; floods of red spewed out like a B-list horror movie. Even then, it didn't stop—green and yellow turned to red, and red changed to black. As I lay there, I had heard of people purging for detoxification, removing impurities, but lying next to the puddle, I could only think of how empty it left me. How inadequate those words felt.

As I lay there, I felt empty, drained of everything. Then I saw it—the pool of refuse slowly boiling and evaporating.

"That's not good."

Those words were a mistake. After speaking, I tried to breathe, and the stench hit me. It was as if the sewers had spilled into the streets and then lit on fire. The smell alone forced me to my feet and out of the alley. I could recall everything—the old man, his words, the sword impaling me—but in all honesty, I couldn't care. I was tired, so tired, but I was also hungry. I couldn't focus, and I was barely able to walk, but I did, and I kept walking, forcing my legs to move, taking each step one at a time. The moon was still up in the bleached night sky, but it was falling quickly, and the rays of the sun were peeking over the horizon by the time I entered my apartment. Once inside, I shuffled towards my room and slumped out of my clothes and into bed. These sheets would have to be thrown away, but I didn't care.

I woke with the sunset and hunger. As I woke up, that feeling of unfamiliar discomfort in my own body was there but less. I ignored it and got up, stepping into the bathroom and looking into the mirror. My eyes had turned a vibrant shade of yellow, almost like gold. With realization, everything hit me at once—all the experiences from my previous lives. I speed-ran my life, saving me an extra year. I looked into the mirror and forced my mind to focus. I was no longer human. Panic wanted to take over, but a lethargic feeling spread over my mind, as if this was just another Tuesday. I tried to think, find why I was one in this life and not the previous. What was different? I began to scan my memories as I stepped into the shower, trying to scrub the feeling of wrongness away. It wouldn't go away. Changing focus, I looked at myself. My body was the same—a 5 '9, lightly padded with fat but slim body of even proportions.

"No, a perfect body. Bummer."

With that alone, my drive to scrutinize myself died. Not that I didn't like my body; it's that nothing had changed. So, I delved back into my memories and started to look. My first life was simple, nothing strange, no real evidence for the supernatural.

But in this world, holidays were different, more sacred; events were unexplainable throughout history, and cities and places were just built differently. My old life, and then I'm there, in the annals of history, going back as far as recorded history, people that stood out in this world that didn't before. Small differences, such as someone who died in the Civil War or in the battle of Gettysburg, or the siege of Orleans.


I saw it there—death counts not the same; people who had been confirmed dead were not dead; a rise in disappearances. Spread out enough and during times of conflict to not be noticeable unless you were to compare.

A diversion from my previous world just great enough to draw my attention. I kept looking, jumping really far back this time. After a point, it was the same, but not because the supernatural wasn't there. Artifacts and lost cities said otherwise. It was because the spread of information, people writing down history, was just not accurate. I started to scan forward, skipping much of the early A.D. (B.C.) Era. The supernatural started to pop up then—a man who said to have lived for a thousand years spoke about two different versions of the world, the term "vampire" appearing in battles like Sekigahara, a woman with nine tails saving lives in the Battle of Sekigahara, and a deep-rooted reason behind Japan's spirituality—either a werewolf or a kitsune.

From the American Revolution to Alexander the Great's conquest, this world's history was different. It wasn't just the supernatural; many lost or diminished ethnic groups and their cultures still existed, most being Indigenous ones lost to forced occupation and colonization. Although now they were more like minorities, making up only 20% across the board.

As I finished the shower, I gathered what I needed. Why this time? Why me? I wasn't special; this was just a different world, and I was unlucky enough to die. Either I reincarnated, or I inherited a different version of my own memories.

I had thought enough and figured enough out that I knew my life was no longer on autopilot, and I planned on using it to the fullest. I started drying off, getting as much water off me as I could. I had been ignoring hunger since I woke up, figuratively killing me, but now it felt as if my stomach was eating itself. I stopped delaying and decided—no college, no family, no vegan vampire nonsense for me. I rushed into my dresser and grabbed some clean clothes—a pair of socks, loose black pants, and a grey sweater. Once done, I grabbed a pair of running shoes and sneaked out of my room and out of the house.

I had been ignoring my heightened senses, blocking them out as best I could, but I knew my mother was asleep. I instinctively knew where and how to step to avoid making noise. I reached the bottom floor of my building and exited the door, trying to inhale deeply. But I was once again greeted with a smell that made me double over. It was all around me, and I couldn't tell where it was coming from. I tried to ignore it, taking shallow breaths, and then I was off running. I needed to find food, but I also needed to test myself, my speed—my new abilities in general.

 

[Gox]

The city embraced me as I sprinted through its arteries, my newly heightened senses absorbing every sight, every smell, every sound. My steps, now rhythmic and purposeful, pounded out a tune of the hunt, echoing through the night. The air crackled with the scent of life, each heartbeat resonating through alleys and boulevards, the sounds leaking from walls, echoing from inside homes.

As I ran, the city's sounds became a symphony—footsteps, distant laughter, the hum of electricity pulsing through neon signs. I reveled. I wasn't fast, but I was faster than before, far faster, the surroundings stretching but not quite blurring. I had been running for minutes, and I wasn't tired. All-out sprinting, yet not a drop of sweat appeared.

Each stride tested how fast and how far I could go. That didn't mean I was stupid. I stuck to shadowed streets, alleys, or, if necessary, main streets with as few people as possible.

I rounded corners with the grace of a creature utterly unhuman. I practically flew through the streets, my senses attuned to every sound and scent. The hunger in my stomach was a nagging reminder, a craving for sustenance that pushed me forward. I needed blood, not out of desperation but as a primal necessity. I was no longer playing the innocent child or noble warrior; I was now a hunter, and to survive, I needed one thing.



Eventually, my heightened senses guided me to a darker corner of the city, away from prying eyes. The smell of stale beer and desperation lingered in the air. I spotted a lone figure in the shadows, a heartbeat pulsating, beating loud against the quiet of the night city.

I approached silently, my movements a blend of stealth and foreign elegance. The victim, unaware of the impending encounter, occupied fumbling a cigarette. A smirk played on my lips; I had no illusion that what I was doing was right or okay, but I did not care. I wouldn't kill him, but his blood would be mine.

In a moment, I was upon him. A whisper of wind carried my voice, "Do you hear it too? The heartbeat of the city?"

Startled, the man turned to face me, eyes widening with a mix of fear and curiosity. My presence set off every alarm bell in his addled mind. I leaned in, his pulse resonating with the rhythm of my hunger.

"Sleep," I murmured, sinking my teeth into his neck. An unfamiliar taste greeted me—the expected coppery taste was gone, replaced with a warm and intoxicating one that flooded my senses. He began to struggle and fight, but with unfamiliar strength, I held him fast, my hands simply holding him there with little struggle.

As I drank, memories flickered before me. The old man's words echoed in my mind, a reminder of my unique existence—First Blood, unbound by sire or coven, destined to shape my own lineage. The darkness within me whispered secrets, unraveling the intricacies of this new reality.

When the feeding was done, I released my hold, and the man wobbled, barely able to stand. With a new instinct, I grabbed him by his head and looked into his eyes. I willed my words to be the only thing he could focus on, and I told him to forget, to rest, and to leave. Soon enough, I was running again, and the city's heartbeat continued, undisturbed. My own heart thudded with a new kind of life.

With a flick of my wrist, I wiped the traces of blood from my lips, a ritualistic acknowledgment of the dance's end. The city's pulsating energy had enveloped me as I ran alley to alley, feeding and compelling until at last, I felt full.


As dawn approached, painting the skyline with hues of orange and pink, I retreated, running home as fast as possible. I needed to shower, clean my room, and figure out what the hell was up. So I did—I ran. But it was different; I was fast now, faster than before. The world wasn't a blur, but out of the corner of my eyes, I watched as the world stretched just a little. Eventually, I made it home, but I didn't walk in. I had glossed over too much. My mind was clear, but details and information were pushed to the back. I started running again, this time towards an alley. Once there, I stopped. I hadn't expected the puddle of bowel and refuse to still be there or the person who bit me, nor the sword, but I needed to figure this out. I had hunted; I had done the impossible. As I thought about my death, I wasn't greeted with remorse, horror, or any negative emotion. Instead, I felt excitement for something new. Once in the alley, I let go of my senses—the smell was there, but now only one of many. My eyes caught particles of dust remains, and my nose smelled blood, lots of it. But pushing past it, I smelled fear—mine. I pushed past it until I smelled something akin to iron, leaving an itching feeling in the back of my throat, similar to copper but finer and more distinct, leaving me disturbed.

I tried to follow the smell, but it disappeared once I exited the alley. With no other recourse, I left. I walked home and just enjoyed the night until I reached my apartment building. But as I searched my pockets, I came to the most basic of realizations.

"No keys."

I didn't worry; this wasn't the first time I had left my key. I walked around to the back of the apartment complex and hopped the fence, walking towards a path that followed in between two buildings. My room was on the second floor, not that bad. Even luckier for me, I was stuck with the room that had a window that pointed towards the apartment building next to ours. With far more ease than I had ever had before, I climbed up using metal window guards, bricks, and the closeness of the two buildings to my aid.

Eventually, I reached my room and pulled my window open. Not even a second later, I was inside. My room was thankfully empty of people, instead replaced with a mess of clothes, books, and a random assortment of items. With haste, I grabbed the sheets on my bed. I could smell a mix of sweat, blood, and just nasty. I could smell that along with refuse coming from my clothes from yesterday. I decided that I would need garbage, so I slumped out of my room and into the hallway. From there, I slowly walked past my mom and dad's room and into the kitchen, where I reached under the counter and into a cabinet, grabbing a black garbage bag.


Once I had it, I needed to slow down and test some things. I opened the fridge, pulled out a plate of leftover food, and slid it into the microwave. While waiting, a wave of tiredness flooded over me, leaving me feeling sluggish. All of my actions slowed down; even my heartbeat began to slow. I looked around, and I saw that the sun had begun to rise, its rays just barely peeking through the living room window.

With a beep, the microwave signaled that my food was done. I pressed a button, and the door sprung open. I reached in, grabbed the plate, and waited for it to cool. It was a race against time as I could hear my mom shuffling, and the rays had begun to stretch as the sun rose. I decided that waiting was no longer an option. Grabbing a spoon and the plate, I walked back towards my room. Once there, I used the spoon to scoop some of the rice, guiding it towards my tongue.

"Tastes like Spanish rice," I said after eating it. I waited to see if my body would have a negative reaction, but I felt nothing. I soon finished the plate and waited, not knowing what eating would do to me. I sat there until I noticed my phone on the floor, and with ever-slowing movements, I reached out and grabbed my phone.

Missed calls 14
Jade (10)
Mom (3)
Big sis (1)

Missed texts 71

"Shit," I muttered as I looked down at my phone. I realized I had forgotten—no, I had pushed this to the side. With hesitation, I got up forcefully, bringing my body to the door and opening it while texting Jade.

Me: J, sorry I didn't text or call you back until now. I did it; I got my master's degree, but I'm taking a few night classes, so my sleep schedule changed. That's why you haven't seen me. I just got home, and I'll be going to sleep soon.

After sending that message, I closed my phone. I didn't want to read the messages yet; I needed to tell my mom the same thing, to get ahead of the situation before it worsened. I walked down the hall towards my mom's room and knocked.

"Yes, Buddha?" My mother replied after a short wait.

"I did it, ma. I was approved to fast-track my master's degree in business & economics yesterday, but I still have a few more classes. To get them done quickly, I scheduled them for night classes." My words rang out, filling the quiet morning. At least until my mother yanked the door open and looked at me, flabbergasted. I hadn't told her what my plans were. In my previous life, I had always been a responsible and quiet kid, getting straight A's and perfect attendance.

My mother's eyes widened with a mix of surprise and concern as she took in my words. The early morning sunlight streaming through the window illuminated her face, revealing the lines of worry that etched themselves across her forehead.

"Joseph, my God! You were going after masters without telling me?" Her voice held a blend of disbelief and pride, and I couldn't help but crack a small smile at her reaction.

"Yeah, ma," I replied, scratching the back of my head nervously. "I wanted to surprise you once everything was finalized. It's just a few more classes to tie up loose ends."

Her initial shock transformed into a warm smile, and she pulled me into a tight embrace. "I can't believe it. You've always been my overachiever, huh?"

I chuckled, feeling a weight lift off my shoulders. "Guess so, ma. I just wanted to let you know before you heard it from someone else. And, uh, sorry for not keeping you in the loop."

She held me at arm's length, studying my face. "It's okay, Joseph. I'm just happy and proud of you. But why night classes? You know I worry when you're out late."

I sighed, choosing my words carefully. "It's just for a little while, ma. The classes are essential for wrapping up my degrees quickly. Once they're done, I'll go back to a normal schedule, I promise."

Her expression softened, and she nodded understandingly. "You always do things your own way, don't you?"

I grinned. "Well, that's what makes me me, right?"

She chuckled, ruffling my hair. "Just like your father. Always ambitious and a little stubborn. I suppose I can't argue with success."

But before I could utter a response, the slowly brightening hallway unveiled my mom's prideful but sleep-addled mind as she locked eyes with me.

"Buddha, what's wrong with your eyes?"

The realization struck me—I had forgotten that my eyes had changed colors when I became a vampire. I quickly rambled out an excuse.

"Oh, those? Due to taking night classes and staying up late while looking at screens, I got these special contacts. They act like light filters and, uh, just happened to change my eyes from brown to a lighter color when I wear them. Pretty neat, right?"

My mom's eyes softened, and she nodded before telling me she had to get ready for work and I needed sleep. Before I could even take a step, my phone buzzed. I looked down and saw that Jade had texted me.

I glanced at my phone, and Jade's message illuminated the screen. Her concern mirrored the text, but it took a positive turn.

Jade: Congratulations, we have to celebrate! You said night classes, are they on the weekend too?

A mixture of relief and excitement washed over me. I quickly typed a response, appreciating her concern.

Me: Thanks, J! Yeah, even on the weekends, but I can make time. Where do you want to meet up?

The wave of anxiety lingered as I typed another message. Jade and I had recently started dating—she was 20, and I was 19. Lying wasn't an option, but avoiding her would be worse. Considering daylight savings, I thought a dinner date would be a reasonable compromise.

Me: How about a dinner date? I know a great spot that's open late. What do you think?

I hit send, hoping my suggestion would strike the right chord and ease any concerns she might have.

 

[Gox]

Afterwards, I lowered my phone and breathed a sigh of relief. With two crises averted, I was ready to collapse. The overwhelming fatigue intensified, but before I could even take a step towards my room, I was covered in sunlight. Light rays bend around the corner, bouncing off the floor and walls. I could see how they'd light moved and stretched to reach me as the world slowed down and adrenaline flooded my system. The old man's words echoed in my head—sunlight was my weakness, yet I was bathed in its warmth and glow.

Staring down the hallway, bathed in the soft light, I hesitated. Could it be that the myths, legends, and old man were wrong? Tentatively, I took a step forward, expecting searing pain, but nothing happened- No burning sensation, no agonizing heat. I took another step, disbelief and confusion giving way to excitement.

"I'm the fucking day walker," was all I could say as the sunlight caressed my skin. It didn't hurt, not even a tingle, and thank god there were no sparkles. A sense of relief washed over me. I wouldn't die in the sun, and if need be, I could pretend I was normal. Accompanied by a wave of questions. Was I an exception? Or was this merely a reprieve? Wanting to see to what extent this applies, I pressed on, moving quickly, almost sprinting to the living room.

As soon as my hand passed the hallway wall and direct sunlight hit my flesh, a searing pain erupted. "Fuck!" I recoiled, cradling my burning hand against my chest. It felt as if someone had branded me with a hot iron. Panic set in until I saw my hand's burned flesh healing, regeneration occurring within moments.

The process was mesmerizing and horrifying simultaneously. Within a minute, my hand returned to its normal state, devoid of any injury. A breath I didn't remember taking escaped as I let out a relieved sigh. No longer willing to test the limits, I decided eating and playing Icarus with sunlight was more than enough for one day.

Retreating to my room, I closed the door, shutting out the remnants of daylight. Once inside, I realized that I had left the garbage bag in the kitchen. Deciding it could wait, I focused on more immediate concerns. I pulled the sheets off my bed, a task that felt mechanical as each movement became more sluggish, the adrenaline leaving my system.

Dirty clothes were flung into a corner along with the bed sheets and pillow covers, where a growing pile was to be dealt with later. Grabbing fresh sheets, I arranged them on the bed with a precision that seemed robotic.

By the time I finished replacing my sheets and picking up my clothes, exhaustion clung to me like a heavy cloak. The idea of sleep became irresistible. I crawled into bed, not remembering sleeping or even getting under the blanket, but soon enough, I was asleep and then awake. It wasn't the slow, groggy thing I was used to; instead, it was sudden and absolute.

The transition from wakefulness to slumber was seamless. The abruptness of my awakening felt different, unnatural, my brain didn't need time to adjust. One second I was asleep, and the next I was awake and aware of my surroundings.

My room was cloaked in shadows caused by the setting sun's light that just barely squeezed through the space between the apartments and into my room.

As I pushed myself up, emotions flooded my mind, crashing over me, filling me with panic and grief to a degree that had my stomach curling and contracting in on itself. In a blink, I wasn't in my bed but leaning over my toilet.

I had died—twice. I had become a monster, feasting on other people, sucking their blood, almost killing them. The weight of the truth pressed on my chest, threatening to suffocate me.

The last 24 to 48 hours played in my mind like a slideshow. My actions, thoughts—mine but all unfamiliar, different. I couldn't say it wasn't me; I couldn't push the blame, but it was all so wrong. With each repeating slide, the weight on my chest became heavier. I had died. I didn't care that I had died—that was the problem. I didn't care. I let myself die. I let the person who stabbed me go. I went off into the night and started draining blood. I let the night go past. I didn't care that a weird black cat was there both times, watching me. I let all of the minute details wash over me. Anger rose. This wasn't right. This wasn't me. The world started to swim and shift, then I was swallowed by darkness.

Soon enough, I was back in that void with Chicago's skyline sparkling out in front of me. It looked as if it was painted. Then the damn black cat appeared again. I reached out, trying to grab it, if only to ask it why, but those eyes only looked at me with disinterest. Before it simply walked away, its black tail swayed.

Shortly after it walked away, I heard a voice from behind.

"Welcome back, First Blood." Behind me, the old man appeared again.

I turned around and immediately lunged at him. While that cat was weird and unnerving, this old man had answers, and I wanted them.

As I lunged, I screamed, "What did you do to me?" As I moved, so did the old man; with every step I took, the old man appeared farther away.

After the fourth time, I stopped. I wasn't stupid enough to think I could catch him, not when none of this was real.

When I finally stopped, the old man spoke again. "If you're seeing this, you lived long enough to finish your transformation, meaning I can tell you what is going on. You were either born a vampire and finally reached maturity, or you were turned by a sire, a vampire with the ability to turn humans. Your sire will explain more, and if not, your sire's familia will." After that, the old man disappeared but reappeared behind me and started to speak again. "If you're seeing this, your family has died. By the right of blood, you have been elevated to First Blood. As a First Blood, you are different from vampires and the various other subclasses. As a First Blood, you still need to drink blood, but your body doesn't reject other substances as much as an infiltrator. You are resistant to sunlight and able to walk in a place where the sun can only reflect. Lastly, you can sire vampires, an ability restricted to elders." As the old man finished, his words left me with more questions, but they didn't answer the question I already had: Why did my actions not feel like my own? At that moment, the old man flickered his posture, changing, long robes and beard shifting.

"You've inquired why your actions are not yours. As a First Blood, your responsibility is to prevent the death of your bloodline." After the old man had finished talking, I was left wondering what that meant and why it was only undone after I went to sleep.

Like a broken TV, the old man flickered again before he spoke once more. "The first feeding is important, as it reinforces the vampiric bloodline or creates one. On top of that, it begins the second transformation. This is where most of the blood will be used."

This once again just raised more questions, but the old man only gave half-answers, like I was supposed to have prior knowledge of some of it or was supposed to have explained this to me already.

Deciding to take hold of the conversation or whatever was going on, I asked, "What are you? Why are you answering my questions?" And just like before, the old man flickered, but this time, he looked brighter, less worn. "I'm the vampiric blood inheritance, probably long dead, but with the ever-growing vampire population, someone had the idea to use magic to attach a dream recording that would have all the information needed in being a vampire." Once the old man was done, he flickered again, "As you might have guessed or been told, this was made long ago. Currently, it's 1378, and the elders have given me a literal mountain of questions to answer."

After hearing the old man's words and the change in tone, I could piece together what this was. It was some prerecorded vampire welcome kit; he'd probably be going through questions for days.

As I stood there thinking, the old man flickered. "My time's up, not really, but your body has used up all of the blood to complete your transformation and provide the power needed to speak to me. I already know the next question: No, this won't be every time you feed. If you asked about vampires, you should know you have further stages down the line; those will be the only times your body will have enough power to allow this."

After that, I was awake again. No second of stupidity or pondering. Along with waking up, the sticking feeling clawed its way up my throat. I moved towards the toilet, my room vanishing, the view replaced with the toilet. I began to purge, throwing up everything I had in my stomach.


I would say throw up, but this wasn't what I was expecting more than just the food I ate nor the blood. It was a black goo with the consistency of tar, and it smelled of rot.

As I did so, I felt my body shrinking, fat burning away as my body temperature rose rapidly, skin becoming taut on my bones, muscles atrophying rapidly. I didn't know what was happening; my body was breaking apart.

Soon enough, I felt my bones creaking, cracking, and then pain all over again. My body started to rebuild, bones stretching and shifting painfully before organs started shifting with them, filling in the extended space. But I also felt something utterly strange, something was growing inside, pushing my stomach aside, sliding into place. But before I could dwell on it, the pain doubled and started to spread. It soon transitioned from a hammer smashing against my bones to molten magma running under my skin.

I bit down on my tongue to keep myself from screaming, but that wasn't needed as soon the feeling spread up my throat, constricted, and jaw locked close as pain filled my skull and jaw. I soon felt my jaw shift as my teeth, all of them, started to be pushed out. Then it continued up my nose, my ears, god, even my eyes began to burn.

The pain continued for what felt like hours, my body changing and then reinforcing, muscles ballooning and then shrinking. Amid the agony, I couldn't comprehend what was happening to me.

 

[Gox]

This time, I woke up slowly, and first came the sounds of water rushing and pipes creaking. Then came the smells, uggggg, the smells woke the rest of my body pushing off the ground as my brain slowly figured things out, neurons remapping themselves.

Slowly, things started to slide into place and I was aware of everything. I stood up, my body feeling limbs a little too long, body reacting faster than expected, but it didn't linger. My brain adjusted.

My eyes were the last thing too they had been focusing and unfocusing over and over but soon it stopped my eyes picked up colors coming in brighter lines and shapes sharper I saw the dirt and grime of the bathroom, the water stains and soap residue detail that while previously noticed now grated against my sight standing out against the porcelain and marble of the bathroom, I was far from being a dirty person but I was just as far from being a clean freak but with my sense of smell alone I felt as if I need to clean this place with bleach or just burn it down.

Refocusing on myself, I realized my perspective was different. I was now looking down at everything; even things previously head height now sat lower and shorter than they should. It wasn't hard to realize I had grown taller, reaching over six feet tall. While I didn't have to duck to get through doors just yet I would need new clothes unless I wanted to walk around looking like middle schoolers after their first growth spurt.

As I examined my body I soon realized my height was the least of my new changes, looking in the mirror my bone structure had shifted my slightly asymmetrical facial features had been replaced with more symmetrical ones, eyes now evenly spaces eyebrows now exactly the same nostrils no longer a little lopsided from an accident as kid. Small things that would go unnoticed were fixed and improved, and I was polished until I opened my mouth.

My tongue was now different, pointed and longer, teeth now paper white and straight, with my canines being sharper and elongated.

Moving down my body, which had previously somewhat fit with only moderate fat, was now shredded but in a swimmer's way, all lean muscle and definition. Over that thought muscle was flawless ebony skin devoid of all the scars and acne marks from my youth. I now had a body that took many years of constant dedication and effort, one that wouldn't disappear under a plain oversized shirt and pants.

When I was finally done examining myself, I realized that the changes would be clear to anyone who'd spent more than 4 minutes with me in the last year, and I needed to find an explanation or bigger clothes. Now in a terrible position, I moved, speeding out of my bathroom and into my room. I grabbed my phone. It was Friday morning, and I had 2 texts from Jade. It appeared I had just slept through the night, checking my text that Jade had agreed to a dinner date Saturday.

With an audible sigh I began to think, I needed new clothes, baggy ones preferably, and I needed excuses.


First was the clothes; like any person my age, I had baggy clothes, sweats, hoodies, and the occasional indie band shirt. I began to rummage through my room. First was the dresser, then where I found a pair of plain black cargo sweats; they were the largest I could find, ones I rarely wore before due to just how large they were.

Grabbing underwear, I moved towards my closet, my room around me blurring for a second. I decided to ignore that and instead moved to grab a hoodie; it didn't matter which as a preference, as nearly all of my hoodies were 2 sizes bigger than what I actually wore.

As I lifted my arm, a smell of sweat, blood, and decay hit me, it was eye watering, nose burning.

Placing the clothes on my matters, I decided a shower would need to be first. Turning to the bathroom, I focused on moving slowly. While super speed was nice, pretending to be normal is way cooler, especially if it means I won't get a wooden stake through the heart.

Step by step, I moved toward my bathroom again. It wasn't hard, but it was definitely annoying. It was like I was trying to keep pace with a slow walker, almost mentally shortening my stride.

Getting to my bathroom, I grimaced at the floor, which was covered in a tar-like substance along with teeth and what appeared to be nails, but the toilet was worse; it was filled and overflowing with it. The smell was one I was selectively ignoring, but with the sight in front of me, I realized cleaning this was more important.

3 hours of cleaning aided by super speed resulted in not just a spotless bathroom but a spotless apartment, except for my mother's room. I was gonna clean that and risk finding something I'd regret.

Cleaning revealed that I may of been a clean freak and the enhanced senses didn't help as every time I thought I had made progress I'd see something that needed to be clean from clothes to carpet, worse was the smells previously all the scents we background noise easily ignored but as I cleaned I kept picking up new ones.

Not to say my home smelled bad, but it didn't smell like dandelions and roses, at least not now, not to my new senses. The sheets I pulled from the closet to replace my old ones didn't even pass the smell test.

I ended up cleaning every inch of the apartment using the strongest non-scented or natural scents cleaners I could find. Even then, I wanted to tear up the carpet and throw it away. All I could smell even after 3 hours was dog piss, and we've never had a dog.

With the house now clean, clothes folded, dust eradicated, I finally walked into my bathroom and sunk into the bath I had ready and waiting while I waited on the old dryer we had to finish drying my clothes, I didn't need to strip as I had done so shortly after I started cleaning, I had never been shy or cared about people seeing me naked but my mom not being home is what sealed the deal, previously I'd walk around in boxers and a shirt at the least but part of me just didn't care. Even if mom walked in, the best I'd do was put on boxers; that's how little I cared.

Another thing I learned is that temperatures are weird; while I could feel cold, my body didn't respond the same way. I could feel the difference between them, not just hot and cold, not even cold to colder.
I could feel the difference between 20°and 25° 60° and 65° the things people would typically use tools for.

While cleaning, I would typically let dishes sit in water so hot I couldn't even put my hands in; those temperatures were left to moms who had too much to do and not enough time.

I spared time to explore this; sticking my hand in boiling water only felt like a mild discomfort, not something I would wanna do but not something to be concerned with.

So, currently, I was sitting in a bath I barely fit in, filled to the rim with the hottest water my shower could provide, and God, it felt good.

Looking over, I reached for my phone. I had been talking to my friends and family, usually small conversations, but now I need to make plans. While I would love to think I could live as a vampire, staying under the radar and going with the flow, I wasn't stupid.

First was my classes sending a request to get my classes switched to night ones that would need to be mandatory. After drafting and sending and email to my counselor with a bullshit excuse I moved over to my second objective and googled various versions of "body found in Chicago ally" "murder in Chicago no body" and more of course 30 different articles appeared but none about the ally I was in or even close really which in itself was weird.

A neighborhood free of murders or violence in general...in Chicago...yeah, no. Someone was covering this up, or it went unnoticed.

I mean someone killed a guy and was killed in return by a guy with a sword...that shit doesn't happen everyday or at least I think it doesn't.


With objective 2 a bust, I moved on to my third. Moving during the day was dead, as doing so would leave me dead permanently this time. I needed to get new clothes, which meant first finding a store that had clothes for taller individuals.


It wasn't a hard find as Google hence the internet existed and damn near every store had a page on it.

Stepping out of the bath, I walked with grace towards my room; the more I moved with this body, the more natural it became. Sometimes, it felt odd as my new body's posture was off, my steps were light and precise, my arms perfectly swaying with every step. Thinking about my movements was similar to that of a trained dancer or martial artist. Every movement is smooth and light but packed with deceptive power.


As I entered my room, I slid into my clothes. It felt weird, even wrong; it was a peculiar feeling pushing at me. Listening to it, I took off my hoodie and shirt, I had no intention of leaving naked or even without a top but I instead settled for a tank top and zip up jacket, while neither fitted perfectly with the jacket's sleeves being too short and the tank top being a little tight I felt far more comfortable.

Now that I was dressed, I moved towards my bedroom window. It being 2 meant the sun would be past its peak, which would allow me to walk in the shadows. Even better for me, the store I was headed to wasn't far, only a few blocks away.

 

[Gox]

Jumping down from my bedroom windows, while typically a very stupid idea, now felt natural, no different from jumping down the last step on a staircase.

The wind caused by my jump caused the jacket to fly to the sides of me, looking similar to billionaire crusaders bringing me a grin.

"I'm Batman" was all that I said as I landed and walked away. I checked if anyone would see me before jumping; a second of listening brought that no one was below me, and the one person in the apartment across from mine was sleeping.

That previous all-consuming tiredness I felt during the day seemed to have vanished. Instead of being replaced with mild exhaustion, something I easily ignored, I started to move, keeping to shade and shadows as best I could. I made it to the street where I needed to cross as the store was just a block further.

But there was a huge problem as the entire street was covered in sunlight due to the lack of buildings.

I expected this, so I made sure to cover as much of my skin as possible with the only thing being exposed being my face and neck.

Drawing my hood further down and shifting so my face was in the shade provided by my hood, I began to walk, and honestly, it was all good until a woman bumped into me, causing the hood to shift and exposing a portion of my neck. While I could've avoided it pretty easily as a human and even more easily now, I was surrounded by my group of walking pedestrians with the sun on my left.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bump into you" was I got from the woman before she was crossing the street again but I couldn't give a fuck as my skin was burning.

I shifted my body so I was in the shade again before pushing my way through the crowd and onto the sidewalk before briskly walking further down where the store's building provided shade. Looking down, I saw my flesh knitting itself back together, but it still felt like hell and looked worse.

Muttering a list of curses, I moved, pulling the store's door open, and I walked inside. While I wasn't rich I had saved a few dollars in case of an emergency, and I think my current situation is classified as one. Moving through the shelves, I grabbed a basic baggy shirt with a visually pleasant pattern of random vertical and horizontal lines.

It wasn't to my taste, but I needed something to reference for properly fitting clothes. Moving to the changing room, I took my jacket off and gingerly slid the shirt over my head. It actually fit pretty well, it was an extra large size with "long" written on the tag in parentheses.

With the size and reference obtained, I went on a shopping spree. I focused on outer clothes, as I had boxers that fit comfortably and tight tank tops. We are cool.

After about 2 hours of trying on clothes and shoes I had a not so vast wardrobe of clothes existing of jeans, sweats, hoodies, shirts and 3 pairs of shoes.
While it wasn't a lot, it was a start. After paying, I walked back to the changing room, and exactly what the room is, so aptly named.

Walking out in a grey V-neck shirt, black cargos, and thick black soled military style boots, I smiled. While the new outfit was indeed comfortable and quite stylish, it wasn't the reason I was smiling. Upon exiting the store, I saw the sun being hidden behind grey, dark storm clouds, and with every passing second, energy filled me, and the faint exhaustion that pulled at my muscles and lulled my senses faded.

Leaving the shop on my way home, I dropped my newly obtained clothes off before heading out again, this time toward the University of Chicago. My counselor had yet to reply, and I had already missed 3 days of classes. I need to do something to either speed this process up or find a way to do my classes from home.

I skipped a lot of the college experience by taking the basic college curriculum back and high school, leaving only degree-specific ones for after I graduated and moved on to university. With the university counselor office closing at 5 pm, I had four or so hours before they closed, which gave me plenty of time to get there and speak to them. As I walked through the city, I focused not on the people walking around me or even the buildings that surrounded me but on the scents and sounds that they produced. I remembered the feeling from that first night, I had thought of it as the song of the city, its heart beat. I wanted to hear it again, but I was struggling. At first, everything was too much; faint smells became all-consuming odors that burned my nose; faint sounds became thunderous noise that had my ears ringing.

Retracting my senses, I focused on something smaller. I listened to the ever-present voices and chatter that characterized large cities. A few feet down in a starburst cafe, two people were talking, "Did you see the new art installation at Millennium Park?" The first voice sounded like that of a woman on the younger side. "Yeah! The one with the giant reflective bean? It's so cool! Perfect for selfies." The second voice was deeper, most likely male, and its inflections were odd forced even. Soon, the first person spoke again, this time sounding melancholic, "I know, right? I had to wait in line just to get a picture without a crowd.".

Two blocks behind me at a bus stop I had passed earlier, two college-aged women began to speak, "I can't believe how cloudy it has become, do you think it's gonna rain today. I thought today was supposed to be clear!" The first woman spoke with a faint accent. She was probably from a different state; the second woman soon confirmed my hypothesis. "Welcome to Chicago! It can be clear and 90 degrees in the morning and winter by noon." The second woman's words brought a smile to my face as she wasn't wrong. "True! I guess I should've checked the weather before leaving the house."

I let the myriad of voices fade into the background, treating them like I did a movie or show while I was studying. As I made my way to the university, occasionally, a loud sound or something unexpected would have me lose focus, and the voices would spiral into a cacophony, but I would start over, one voice at a time.

As I walked, I heard what to me sounded like a normal city. Nothing made me think this world, let alone this city, had supernatural beings, beings that went bump in the night and fed on humans. What I did hear was a few men planning to rob a store. I kept walking. It wasn't my job to stop them, and doing so in broad daylight would only lead to complications for me. I was no hero. I wouldn't risk putting myself or the ones I love in danger just to stop something that happens every day everywhere.

As I contemplated just how hard my new existence became, this isn't some medieval fantasy in this modern age, technology was my biggest threat. All it took was one camera catching me doing something i shouldn't do or even be able too or some cia agent with too much free time looking at the increased number of people being found or going to the hospital with extremely low levels of blood, hell i had left 4 or 5 people incapacitated due to blood loss, if i continued it wouldn't be long before i had some supernatural government agency after me.

Thinking about that brought me back to the man who killed the man who sired me and probably tried to kill me while he was at it. A sword wasn't common, and a man who knew how to kill a vampire with a sword was even less common than the man in that void. He spoke like vampires were organized, like they had their own society, and with society comes rules and hierarchy. It sounded like I skipped a lot of steps and leaped towards the top of this campiric cast later and people wouldn't like that.

Taking a deep breath, I closed off my senses. I was getting close to the university, and I needed to focus. I needed a change of plan; hell, I needed proper plans, and college was going to limit every plan I would create as I would have to work around it. Despite my previous thought, I had been living too much in the moment, making and adapting plans every few hours just because I learned something new. I didn't need a business or economics degree I wanted one and i wasn't gonna give that up but, i didn't need to attend my remaining class i could easily test out, i was stuck on doing them because i wanted a college experience, i thought it would be something new something that would break that previously ever present feeling of deja-vu.

But I found something else that did, being a vampire and the world it opened to me.

 

[Gox]

Hey, uhhhhh, for the people who care, I'm writing this story because I want to, and the idea has been stuck in my head for a while. I post equal to what I write throughout the week while keeping a stockpile, I write 3 - I post 3. The stockpile is 4 chapters. I don't have an editor, so I'm currently using Grammarly to help.
(Grammarly sucks balls)

If you have any questions, ask away. Other than that, see you next Sunday.

For the people who've read my Marvel fic, I haven't dropped it, but I realized I lacked the experience and writing stamina to do my idea justice. I ended up burnt out and hating what I wrote. I'm currently writing this as a way to improve my said flaws.