Waiting For Sunrise

Smog hung languidly as a sickly golden aura around the large malodorous structure. A large grey wall faced an empty lot with faded red lettering written across it, barely legible. A wave of unease and a squeamish tide ebbed and flowed in Irene's turbulent gut. The cloying stench of wet grain and chemicals could not hide the cutting smell of freshly shed blood. Irene's nostrils flared as her entire body shivered.

"Looks like we're a little late to the party, breaches," Cyrus said as he slipped through a narrow opening in the chain-linked fence. He kneeled down by a dark puddle, barely noticeable atop the tar stained asphalt. "It's strong blood… shed from another vampire."

"Be honest. What are our chances of survival?" Irene asked in a sullen, distant tone, which hadn't a mite of concern in it. It was too smooth to be reproachful, and lacked the gloss of curiosity.

"No clue." Cyrus stared at the factory, then shrugged and turned back to his accomplice. "But that makes it all the more fun, now doesn't it?"

"No, it does not," Irene muttered and slipped past the fence. She folded her arms and let out a very long sigh, tucking her chin low and peering outward with a dubious expression. "This is your last chance to run with your tail between your legs, Cyrus."

"My tail is ALWAYS between my legs - that's its natural state," he responded with his usual merriment. His eyes caught an orange twinkle from the streetlights lining the sidewalk behind them. "I've come this far, and the stakes are a bit too high to just cash in right now."

"Simply because you'd be cashing in a deficit," Irene dryly responded. With a few steps she closed the short distance between them, standing shoulder to shoulder with him. It was an odd sort of picture in her perspective. She never imagined, not once, she'd be standing by him with such purpose.

"Well, this is it. Either my men took out some guards… or the guards took out my men," Cyrus said, stepping past the puddle. Irene silently followed him, keeping in his shadow. As usual he was draped in black clothing, but this time he took care to wear black gloves and tied a black bandana about his face so only the skin around his dark eyes showed pale. Irene herself was wrapped up in a long black coat Cyrus had lent her. She turned up the collar uncomfortably as they neared one of the entrances to the building. Cyrus held up his hand, signalling for her to halt. Then he motioned for her to follow, and he stealthily moved behind a large truck.

"What is it?" Irene whispered. Cyrus did not look at her, more preoccupied with turning his head to peer around the corner.

"Shhh listen…" Cyrus said. Irene held her breath and did as he instructed. As though carried on the thick air, there was the sound of voices. She could not distinguish what they were saying, but the quality of the sound was unlike anything she'd heard. She knew it was very far away, and knew it was inaudible, and yet to her ears it made a sound.

"I… can't make out what they are saying." Irene whispered again. Cyrus held up a hand to silence her, and she held her breath again. She wondered how soon breathing would be optional? For the next few minutes her ears filled with the sound of her own heart throbbing, pushing the delicate sound of distant conversation from her notice. She felt almost as if her heart beat was loud enough to interfere with Cyrus's ability to hear and took a few steps back.

"Traitor… something about a traitor and a demonstration. Hmm…" Cyrus relayed before going very quiet again. "Pathetic resistance… likely referring to my men. Gabriel is in there alright. Huh…" Cyrus moved and turned to her, pulling down the cloth that covered his mouth.

"What is it?" Irene asked eagerly.

"Executions. They must have rounded up my men. As for traitor… there are two people I can think of that he is referring to… but…" Cyrus glanced back over his shoulder and then back at Irene again. "Things are looking grim - but I'm not turning back. I'm not going to tell you to either - but I won't begrudge you if you want to leave."

"If I don't make this stand, I'm as good as dead. I'm not going to live with a sword hanging over my head. If I die it will be on my terms," Irene whispered firmly. Cyrus nodded and smiled before covering his lower face again.

"Well, this is it. My better senses are telling me to skip town but… ah… this is for my own good as well as yours. I make no promises that I won't bail if things get too grizzly, though," Cyrus warned. Irene shook her head slowly, not in the least bit surprised.

"If you were to say otherwise I'd know you were lying to impress me, or maybe just impress yourself," Irene remarked. Cyrus peered around the truck again. "So are we going now?"

"Yes, on my lead. It looks like the guards are being called in… or changing shifts - I'm not sure which," Cyrus informed.

"Alright, I'm ready." Irene said stoically. Cyrus was still for a moment, but then he lifted his arm and gave a forward flick of his wrist. Immediately he was gone, speedily sneaking to the doorway. Irene was not far behind, albeit a little less stealthily. The old side door came closer and closer, and beyond it, the final confrontation.

"It's sad so few of you didn't take the opportunities I gave you! Life or death, one way breeds new opportunities, pleasures, and advancement. The other, a dead end where one can only be as dust!" a deep voice spoke imperiously. Cold pale eyes surveyed his audience. Then Gabriel turned to stare at a woman bound to a chair.

It took Irene squinting and shifting her perspective to see, but once enough of her features were clear, she gasped with recognition. It was Cynthia.

"Of course… there are those who I won't afford the chance to live - they don't deserve it." A large hand caught hold of the pale, bare throat of his prisoner, her hands bound behind her back. "I do not tolerate treachery!"

"Tell me something new…" came Cyrus's quiet mutter amidst the fracas of cheering from a semi circle. Irene remained hidden behind some machinery, watching the obscured view with anxiety. She felt no remorse or anguish on behalf of Gabriel's captive. But something disturbing ran up her spine as she witnessed Gabriel's brutality once again. Yet, as much as Irene wanted to, she could not take her eyes away.

"Cynthia, you were tasked with bringing the girl to me. Instead, you killed her. You have no idea what you cost me, what you cost us! And now, you will pay!" Irene's eyes widened and she wondered how much Cynthia knew. Her mind began to reel with this new information, but it confirmed that Gabriel had guessed the truth about Irene. However, regardless of Cynthia's intentions, it did not endear her to Irene any further.

Gabriel's face was devoid of expression as he brought his other hand to cradle the nape of Cynthia's neck. Cynthia's face was obscured, but Irene tried to imagine a fearful expression on her sultry face. Irene's mouth was dry as she watched, the air ripe with suspense. With a swift jerk and a sickening snapping-cracking noise, Cynthia's head was twisted one-hundred and eighty degrees. The sound made Irene jump in her skin. If only Gabriel had stopped there Irene may have been able to remain in control of her nausea. However, to her dismay, he continued to twist her neck with sharp movements until the skin broke from the stress, a jagged red line of beads forming across her throat. A series of snaps reached Irene's ears, each snap corresponding to a sudden rise of bile in her throat. Quicker and quicker he unscrewed her head like a bottle cap, until he ripped it off, causing blood to spurt off in every direction like a red umbrella. Right in his hand the once beautiful face withered rapidly until it was a disgusting, mostly decayed visage. Creamy skin was now greenish brown with whispy, thin brittle tresses of hair that had the colour of smoker-stained fingernails. The body followed, decompressing beneath the tight clothes, being reduced to a bony figure, with barely any sinew left upon the bone.

The stench of decay flared up in Irene's unguarded nostrils, and she could no longer control herself. She kneeled forward and blood and bile rose in her throat, forcing its way out of her mouth. Alarmed, Cyrus bent down quickly, grabbing a hold of Irene's shoulder with one hand, the other rubbed her back. To both Irene and Cyrus's relief, Gabriel had begun talking again, and Irene's noises had gone unnoticed. Finished, Irene wiped her chin with the back of her hand, her eyes glazed with tears. Cyrus quietly helped her to her feet. Irene glanced at him for only a moment, then stared out at the small gathering.

"Who else wishes to share her fate, and the fate of the rest who continue to defy me!?" Gabriel asked, staring down at three individuals who were bound and guarded on either side. From the back view, Irene could not make out who they were, but she judged from Cyrus's grim expression that he knew all three of them. Gabriel tilted his head down and stared at the three of them with great intensity. None of them moved or spoke.

"Master Gabriel asked you a question! ONE of you had better say something, or you're all getting the hot poker!" one of the guard's threatened, taking a swing at one of the prisoners' heads. Gabriel crossed his arms and continued to leer.

"Alright - alright! I promise to never rise against Gabriel again! I'll cooperate! I'll be good… I'll… I'll do whatever you need me to do!" a male voice cried out. Gabriel's frown twisted upward into his sinister grin, but his eyes showed no amusement or kindness. They only grew crueler.

"I hope you're a man of your word," Gabriel spoke in his cyanotic tone. One of the guards cut the broken vampire loose and he fell forward, making an embarrassing display of groveling and crying. Irene could scarcely watch the pathetic display, and she gave Cyrus a sharp glance, lifting her eyebrows and tilting her head to the execution site. He returned an equally sharp look and shook his head. Irene frowned impatiently. She did not wish to wait any longer and simply watch.

"I'll do anything if you'll spare me!" the vampire went on. Irene tilted her head. There was something familiar about that voice.

"First tell me your name," Gabriel requested. The man lifted his head and hesitated.

"It's Cody, sir."

Irene just about sunk in her own skin. It was no wonder he was breaking so easily.

"Cody?" Gabriel parroted. He then snapped at one of his followers who quickly produced a piece of paper and handed it to him. Gabriel gave a flick of both his wrists to straighten out the page and examined it. He then peered from over the document at Cody, who remained very still. "Ah, I see, you haven't been with us very long. You're still soft as clay… and just as inferior. Tch, not even long enough to gain any real power… pity. You'd simply die if I made you and one of your colleagues fight to the death…"

"Cyrus…" Irene growled softly. Cyrus put his finger to her lips to silence her.

"…And it wouldn't even be much sport." Gabriel shrugged his broad shoulders and straightened his posture.

Suddenly, there was a very loud crackling noise followed by an ear-shattering pop. Smoke obscured the small gathering, and the area filled up with noise of surprise, anger, and confusion. Cyrus caught Irene's eye and nodded to her. Before Irene could respond, he had already bolted past her into the diversion. Irene stood frozen behind her hiding spot, unable to focus. Not even her recently enhanced senses could grab a hold of the commotion. Apprehensively, she gnawed on her lower lip.

Who am I kidding? What can I do but just get in the way?

Amidst Irene's self doubt, her attention was grabbed by just the slightest sound of loose cloth rustling and the sensation of a brief breeze along the back of her neck. She quickly turned to the narrow gap behind her, but saw nothing. Uneasily she crouched down, looking about frantically. The hazy battle ceased to be material for her as paranoia breached her faltering mind. When she was certain she had only imagined it and began to slowly rise back to her feet, she saw something dark move out of the corner of her eye. This startled her and she immediately ducked again, craning her neck to find the source.

"Who is… there?" Irene whispered more to herself than to the mysterious stalker. It unnerved her, but deep down she didn't feel quite as threatened as she believed she ought.

Frozen in place from the dark figure, Irene didn't even hear the sounds of the fighting until there was a thud and a cracking noise right beside her. A mauled body landed a meter away. Thick blood seeped out of the large wound in his head, eyes burnt out of the sockets. Irene shuffled back, but could not tear her eyes away. There was a twitch, followed by a moan, barely audible above the ruckus. Irene's stomach churned uneasily once again as his neck turned, and a hand sluggishly gripped at the ground to try and push against it. Creak. Irene looked up to see a large metal beam come plummeting down from the blackness above. Irene jumped back, bumping into some old machinery. The beam landed across the man's neck, severing it with sheer force. Irene threw her hands to her mouth to muffle her shriek. The body did not move after that.

"The place is collapsing!" cried a voice Irene did not recognize. For the first time since the fighting started Irene gazed towards it. The smoke had settled, and there were dismembered and partially decayed parts strewn about the floor. Irene could not account for all of the bodies, or body parts, for there seemed to be more lying dead than there were even present when the fight began.

"Screw this I'm leaving!" another voice yelled out. She recognized the source as one of Gabriel's men. She could not hear his frantic footsteps amidst the large creaking from above. Like an angered guardian, a large part of some machine swung down, attached only by a few cables, and ploughed into him. He landed somewhere in the shadows, but no sound nor movement proceeded. Irene shakily stepped around the machine she had been hiding behind to get a better view of the fight.

Irene's senses had been dulled, but as she stepped out into the open, the sounds, the sights, and the smells pushed their full intensity against her unguarded nerves. Her knees nearly buckled beneath her from the sickening ambience. It wasn't just the death - it was the violence in which both sides conducted themselves. Mutilated and barely recognizable bodies continued to swing at their opponents. Blood and viscera were spattered across the cold pavement floor. The sounds of sizzling flesh, breaking bones, snapping joints, and grunts of pain buzzed around her skull. She wanted to shut it out, but she could not. She needed to hear everything, she needed to stay alert.

Movement caught her eye as a vampire she'd thought was defeated rose up to his feet. He snarled, seeing her and lunged at her. Irene dodged to the side, as yet another piece of metal came slamming down, pinning the vampire. While her focus was engaged elsewhere, a hot twang of pain shot up her neck and made a knotting-sensation on the back of her tongue. Irene had barely a moment to react to having her throat grabbed before she felt herself being thrown to the ground. There was a nauseating pop in her ear and she suddenly couldn't feel her left arm. She grit her teeth and rolled onto her back, looking up at the vampire she knew as Louis.

Louis's hair was sticky and matted, clinging to the contours of his rubicund face. Blood drizzled from the side of his head and from a large gash in his chin. He stared down at her with a crazed look. He paused dramatically, as if he was unsure just what to do with her right away. Irene struggled to get to a crouched position, but before she could make it onto her feet, he had grabbed her by her dislocated arm. Irene screamed. Soon her other arm was in his grip, and both were forced behind her. Irene bit down on her lip so hard it bled, trying not to let anymore whimpers escape. There was a whispering in her ear. "Don't worry… I'm not going to kill you… but resist, and I'll make you wish I had."

Irene felt light-headed and dizzy in spite of the sobering reality of her falling into the same trench of danger and pain. There was an ache where her finger had been; a memory of agony brought on by fear of its reprise. She didn't struggle as she tried to regain her senses.

"That's right… calm and quiet…" came Louis's cooing voice. Irene continued to bite hard into her lower lip as she lowered her head. It hurt. IT HURT. Such pain and fear was too familiar, and more than ever, tiring. Not the somnolent tired, but that state of exhaustion where one burns with frustration. ENOUGH!

Irene's blood boiled and she swung away with her good shoulder, managing to tear it out of Louis's grip. Caught off guard, he made a sound of surprise and anger and swung a fist at her. Irene was quick this time and dove for the floor, causing Louis to topple over her. She brought her knee as far up as she could, and then kicked out at Louis, shoving him off of her. Louis grunted as he was forced to the side. Encouraged by the successful impacts, Irene began to kick him over and over until her legs had pushed him out of her reach. At this point she struggled to get her to her feet, glaring at Louis like a cornered animal. One arm was raised, ready to deflect any incoming blows. Her other arm dangled uselessly at her side.

"Go on… try and make me regret that," Irene dared, staring into Louis's bewildered eyes. It was written all over his face that none of his victims had ever fought back, especially not with such ferocity. The loss of control jarred him, but Irene could rapidly see that confusion turn to rage. Without a word he charged at her. Seeing this, Irene also launched forward, keeping her body low and her good shoulder twisted towards him. With satisfaction, her shoulder rammed into Louis's lower abdomen. The both of them crashed back to the floor, but this time with Louis prone. Pinning him with her knees, Irene repeatedly began to punch Louis in the face with her working arm. After a few good hits to his face she drove a final punch straight into his throat.

Louis lay stunned, and Irene stared down as some of her fury subsided. She wiped the blood off of her knuckles and rose to her feet. It was liberating and gratifying to not be the victim for once. She went to stomp on his throat one more time, but haughty in her successful frenzy, she failed to remember the superiority of might and body she faced. Her foot was grabbed and promptly twisted. Irene yelped and fell back, her foot still ensnared. Pain radiated sharply from her ankle. He then yanked on it, pulling her closer to him. Irene's eyes widened as she saw his upraised fist, ready to come smashing down on her knee. Irene twisted and rolled to the side, his fist glancing off her leg and smashing into the ground.

Irene had never been in many fights before, and she felt out of her element. But survival was a strong impetus to learning new skills and Irene reached up and grabbed Louis by the throat as he wound back for another strike. This didn't slow his momentum and his fist pummeled her face. The pain froze upon her nose, hot and radiating. Irene squeezed Louis's throat with renewed vigour, her thumb feeling the ridges of his trachea. His hand went to her wrist and he was able to pry her off with ease. Louis threw her down once again, her skin sloughing off on the rough poured cement as she skid along the ground.

Louis grabbed a slightly bent bar that used to be the handle to something and swung it down at her. Irene rolled to the side just in time. But he didn't let up. She had to keep moving to stay alive. Some of his strikes she managed to evade, others struck her hard. Irene pulled on the side of a chute to steady herself. She moved her head to the side, narrowly avoiding a swing. While doing so, her eyes momentarily glanced to where the chute led. It was a thresher. There were blades behind that casing. If only I could... WHACK! Irene stumbled forward as she took a blow to the side of the head, causing a ringing in her ears.

Blurry movement arced above her head, and to her own surprise Irene's good hand reached up and caught the makeshift weapon. Her knees bent, and the pain in her ankle caused her to tear up as she struggled with Louis for control of the weapon. He pressed the bar to her neck and she could feel him pressing. The chute was behind her. Using Louis's strength against him, she dropped and ceased all resistance, causing him to stumble onto the belt. Caught off guard, Irene was able to grab the weapon from him and she spun it around, choosing to jab rather than strike. To her satisfaction and disgust, she drove the metal bar through his right eye and he screamed. But Irene wasn't done. She pushed the bar through the back of his skull and into the machine, getting the bar stuck between the blades. Had the machine been in operation, Louis would have been shredded. As it was, he was merely stuck. Carelessness on his part in extricating himself could prove fatal. Irene was satisfied that he was no long able to continue his assault.

Irene's ears were still ringing and her vision throbbed with bouts of focus and blurring as she limped towards cover. She needed to rest. She could barely hear anything beyond a high pitched, tinny sound and her own heartbeat. But something managed to break through the internal white noise - a crash and the shrill scraping of metal. It came from behind and Irene spun around in a panic, raising her hand defensively.

Irene cautiously peeked one eye open. Lining the chute Irene had foisted Louis onto were human bones. Both of her eyes shot open in surprise. Once again, a shadow fled from her peripheral vision. Irene glanced about, but found no one else. An eerie realization came upon her as the ringing finally ceased: it had gone quiet. Not just quiet, but still. No more battles. No more vampires. No more movement. Just silence. Silence and pain reclaiming her now that the adrenaline had run its course.

"Cyrus? Anybody?" Irene called out between grunts. "What… what happened!?"