World of Supernatural: I'm Raizel(Twilight,VD,Originals,Underworld..)

Quint's screams were magnificent—in the way that dying screams usually are.

The blood devoured him like an overenthusiastic vacuum cleaner, pulling him apart piece by piece, his howls bouncing off the tunnel walls like a particularly haunted echo chamber.

By the time the carnage ended, Quint had officially been reduced to a very permanent state of silence.

All that remained?

A crater—a giant, ominous dent in the floor that seemed to say, "Something horrible happened here. Avoid at all costs."

Yet the scent of blood lingered, thick in the air, as if refusing to let anyone forget the absolute horror show that had just unfolded.

Raizel, the current absolute pinnacle of casual menace, turned his gaze toward Eve.

She was trembling—which, given what she had just witnessed, was a very understandable reaction.

With a lazy flick of his finger, Eve floated toward him, her limbs betraying her as she struggled in vain.

Tears welled up in her eyes as realization sank in.

Her hybrid bloodline? Sealed.

Her strength? Gone.

She was now closer to human—and therefore closer to being dead if Raizel decided to change his mind.

Raizel, in the softest, most unsettlingly gentle tone possible, reassured her, "Don't be scared, child. I won't hurt you."

Then—

A hand on her cheek.

A caress, almost affectionate.

Then—

"Have a nap."

Her vision blurred instantly, her consciousness slipping away.

As her body drifted weightlessly, Frankenstein stepped forward to her side.

Raizel, still unbothered by the situation, handed Eve over. "Keep her safe. I will be right back."

He then turned toward the tunnel, beginning to walk with his usual level of detached grandeur.

But before he could get very far, Frankenstein, covered in an unholy amount of lycan blood, coughed politely.

"Master."

Raizel paused.

Frankenstein, suddenly looking a little embarrassed, pointed in the opposite direction.

"That isn't the way."

Silence.

The kind of awkward silence that only happens when someone walks confidently in the wrong direction and gets called out for it.

Raizel slowly—silently—turned around and passed by Frankenstein without a word.

A few seconds later, Frankenstein also turned—because, of course, Raizel had now started walking toward another wrong way.

Finally, after a moment of adjusting his royal navigation, Raizel ascended to the next floor.

What greeted him?

Absolute chaos.

Bodies of lycans, security personnel, and unfortunate individuals who had been in Frankenstein's madpath were scattered everywhere.

The walls? Ruined.

The floors? Cracked.

The entire building? Possibly one dramatic explosion away from becoming a historical site.

Raizel, thoroughly unimpressed, simply kept walking, stepping over various body parts with practiced indifference.

Eventually, he reached a floor that looked suspiciously like a laboratory.

And in the shadows, someone was hiding.

Now, Raizel could have ignored them.

Could have.

But then—

A familiar, very stupid scent reached his nose.

Like father, like son.

Jacob Lane.

Still alive.

Still a cockroach.

Jacob, sensing imminent death, made a last-ditch effort—transforming into his enhanced lycan form and lunging like an absolute idiot.

He lasted about three seconds before Raizel flicked a wrist and sent him hurtling across the room—straight into a very expensive-looking computer station.

"You are much more like a rat than your son."

Jacob, coughing blood, barely had time to process the insult before Raizel materialized aura blades out of thin air.

With a single movement, the blades shredded through Jacob, painting the room in a fresh coat of red mist.

Not a single drop touched Raizel.

Because, of course, it didn't.

He stepped away from the carnage, entirely unbothered, and turned to the other person hiding in the room.

She was trembling.

She had just witnessed a murder so horrifying that she was actively trying not to scream.

Raizel, ever polite, gave her a small smile.

"Hello, Lida."

Lida's terror increased tenfold.

She immediately started crawling backward, pleading like her life depended on it—because, well, it did.

"Please, please, please—don't hurt me!"

Raizel, as if reassuring a frightened puppy, replied, "I won't."

Then, with his signature unsettling charm, he added, "But you should lead me to where Subject 1 is."

The smile he gave her?

It did not help.

Shaking, barely holding it together, Lida hesitated—then nodded.

Because saying no to Raizel wasn't an option.

She stood up—slowly—and led him toward a highly secured area.

Two massive containers stood before them.

Lida, turning hopefully toward Raizel, looked like she was about to ask if she could leave.

Raizel, without a single word, kept walking—right up to the right-side container.

With a simple gesture, the entire metal door was ripped apart like aluminum foil.

Lida?

She tried to run.

Raizel?

Without even looking at her, froze her in place.

Tears streamed down her face.

She was now an unwilling witness to whatever horror was about to unfold.

Raizel, stepping toward the container, paused only briefly before giving her a final instruction.

"Wait there until I'm done."

Lida, at this point accepting her fate, nodded.

And with that, Raizel stepped into the chamber.