Post by ReadingTrance on Mar 7, 2013 21:18:25 GMT -5
All Star Blade
Chapter 1: The Birthing
December 2, 1936, London, England
Tara Brooks laid in the bed at the brothel, screaming at the top of her lungs. She was currently in labor, which the surrounding prostitutes hoped they would never have to personally experience. However, they supported her. They always did. They had to all stick together.
“Where’s the abbess with the crow?” Margaret asked.
Margaret was questioning where the brothel keeper was with the doctor. She was due back approximately five minutes prior to Margaret’s question, which worried the women of the brothel. Tara appeared to be in immense pain and needed a doctor’s expertise.
“Don’t know. How are you doing Tara?” Ruth asked her, fiddling with the cross hanging from her neck.
Tara was still screaming as she gave Ruth a death glare. “Not. Well!”
“Don’t worry, Tara. Eric is going to make it.” Margaret added.
Tara smiled through the pain at her baby’s name. Although her pregnancy wasn’t planned, she wasn’t overly upset about bringing a child into the world. She knew she would be able to handle the responsibility; especially with the help of the other brothel members. It wasn’t the ideal living situation for a child, but it would have to make due.
Tara Brooks had always wanted a boy, as she didn’t want to have to raise a daughter to only end up where she was now.
Shortly after Margaret made Tara smile, the women heard footsteps rushing up the stairs.
“We’re here!” The abbess, Madame Elizabeth Vanity, returned with a doctor following behind her.
The doctor sported a white goatee with short matching hair. Tara noticed his widely opened eyes that indicated he was nervous or anxiously awaiting something. He placed his bag of doctor toys on the table next to the bed.
Elizabeth tried to calm down Tara. “This is Doctor Deacon Frost. He’s going to help you through this.”
“I think the baby’s comin’!” Margaret shouted.
“Are you going to help her or just stand there?” Ruth asked Dr. Frost.
“I’m.” Deacon Frost paused as he bowed his head. “I’m sorry.”
When he looked back up at Tara, he showed his bloodshot eyes and newly acquired fangs.
The women of the brothel that could still see the doctor’s face screamed, while the other half were questioning what he was talking about.
Deacon Frost lunged forward at Tara Brooks, latching onto her neck with his fangs. The vampire began drain Tara’s blood as the other prostitutes attempted to pull him off. He simply pushed several of them aside as he finished his dinner.
“Get off of her, monster!” Ruth shouted as she hit the man over the head with an old-fashioned broom.
The broom snapped in half upon impact, leaving Ruth holding a sharp wood stick.
“I said off!” She shouted again as she shoved the stick through his shoulder.
Deacon immediately turned around and growled as he pushed Ruth up against the wall, accidentally placing his hand on the silver cross hanging from her neck.
The vampire shrieked as his hand began to burn and immediately clenched at his wound. Deacon Frost fled from the scene, seeing no use in remaining any longer.
Heather, one of the prostitutes that got thrown across the room, stood on her feet trying to not hyperventilate as she held her injured arm.
“What just happened?” She asked.
No one said anything for several seconds.
“She’s dead...” Margaret said softly.
“But the baby.” Madame Vanity cradled the newborn in her arms. “He seems okay. It’s a miracle.”
Heather rejoined the group. “I can’t believe what just happened.”
“We’ve been through worse.” Madame Vanity calmly said as she stared at the crying baby.
What are we going to do with him?” Margaret asked.
Madame Vanity looked into the baby’s eyes. “I will raise him.”
Margaret nodded and added. “We all will.”
Madame Vanity looked up at her and nodded in approval. There were several moments of silence. Ruth was looking down at her cross, which was now covered in burned skin. She asked a question that was on everyone’s mind.
“What was that monster?”
December 10, 1949, London, England
“A vampire?”
Eric Brooks, a new member of the teenage population, stared at the pile of ashes in the barren alleyway.
The middle-aged man he was with looked right at him. “Yes, a vampire.”
“And you just killed it with a cane?”
“Not just any ol’ cane.” He flashed a smile as he admired his weapon of choice. “A silver cane.”
“This is crazy.”
“Indeed it is. You, my boy, showed quite a bit of strength and bravery in that battle. I appreciate you coming to my rescue like that.”
Eric was on his way home from school when he looked down an alleyway to find the man fighting off three creatures. He instinctively helped the stranger with his natural strength and speed.
Still unknown to Eric at the time, he was part vampire from his strange birth. Doctor Frost’s bite on Tara Brooks inadvertently passed on certain enzymes to Eric. This granted him extraordinary strength and speed, but Eric also inherited several vampire weaknesses. Luckily for him, he wouldn’t experience those until he was a little bit older.
During the fight, the man showed some expert combat skill, but still found himself struggling against three fully grown vampires.
“Can you teach me how to fight?” Eric asked excitedly.
“Well, I suppose I could. You seem to have great potential.”
“You have to come meet my mom and tell her what I did. She’ll never believe me.”
The man laughed. “Sure. Let’s go meet your mother.”
The two of them began to walk, Eric taking the lead. The brothel wasn’t too far from where their current location.
“So, what’s your name, kid?”
“My name is Eric.”
“Nice to meet you, Eric.” The man smiled again.
Eric turned the question around. “And what’s your name?”
“Arthur Whistler.”
That was the day Eric met the man that would become his mentor.
The Brothel
Eric opened the door to the brothel, Arthur slowly following behind him.
“Welcome home, Eric.” Madame Vanity came down the stairs. “Who’s this?”
“Mom, meet Arthur Whistler. I saved his life today.” Eric bragged.
Madame Vanity was confused. “You what?”
“He sure did.” Arthur said with a smile.
“Well, we’re going to have to discuss this then. I’m Elizabeth Vanity. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” She stuck her open hand out in Arthur’s direction.
“Nice to meet you ma’am.” Arthur took her hand and kissed the top of it.
A shy smile crossed the woman’s face.
“Give us some time to talk, Eric.” Madame Vanity told her son.
“Sure.” Eric said as he scurried up the stairs past his mother figure.
Elizabeth led Arthur into the kitchen area, where Ruth was conversing with a potential costumer.
“Ruth.” Madame Vanity nodded at her, signaling for her to leave.
“Let’s go, handsome.” Ruth took the man by the hand, leading him out of the room.
Madame Vanity joked. “Not sure how she still does it at her age.”
“Some women will always have their touch.” Arthur seemed to not mind the brothel.
Arthur took a seat at the table, while Madame Vanity grabbed a glass of wine.
“Let’s discuss the events of today. What happened?”
“I was fighting off some, well, creatures in an alleyway. I was outnumbered three to one and Eric came to my rescue. I’m lucky he was there.”
Elizabeth circled around the table and took a seat across from Arthur.
“Creatures?” She casually sipped at her wine.
“Yes, I’m not sure you’d believe me if I told you about them, ma’am.”
She smiled as she sipped at her wine again. “I’m going to assume you mean vampires. I’m just going based off of the silver cane you use.”
Arthur was shocked she had guessed. However, Madame Vanity had done her research on vampires since the night of Tara Brooks’ death.
“Well, yes. How’d you know?”
She wasn’t going to be so quick to tell Arthur, an apparent vampire hunter, that her supposed son partly belonged to the group of creatures he liked to kill.
“I’ve had my run-ins with them, you could say. I’ve just always tried to keep the brothel and Eric safe. Those are my priorities.”
“Well, it would seem Eric doesn’t need much protecting. He’s very strong for a young boy. He actually asked me to give him some combat training. I honestly believe the boy would do quite well as a vampire hunter.”
Madame Vanity pondered the idea. The boy was going to get into trouble one way or another. It seemed to be in his nature. And if Eric’s destiny was to hunt down these monsters, then she wasn’t one to get in the way. Ever since Eric had been born, she knew he’d be different. She truly believed that this occurrence was an act of fate, not coincidence.
“Well, Mr. Whistler, I think I can allow that. In fact, I have a proposal for you.”
Arthur adjusted his position in his seat. “And what would that be?”
“Live here. Help us protect this brothel and my son from some of the horrible men that walk through that front door. Train my son to be able to protect himself from anyone, or anything that threatens him. Do all of that and I will supply you with anything you need. And, if you truly believe he is meant for it, I will allow you to train Eric to hunt down these demons.”
“You drive a hard bargain, Ms. Vanity.” Arthur smiled sarcastically. “I accept your offer. I sincerely want to train your son. I see infinite potential in him and I think, hopefully, that one day, he can make this world a better place. Eric may become the greatest hunter that ever lived.”
“Well, here we go.” Madame Vanity took a deep breath before drinking the last of her wine.
April 7, 1970, London, England
The clinging of blades sounded throughout the house as Abraham Henry Whistler, the eighteen-year old son of Elizabeth Vanity and Arthur Whistler, fenced with Eric. Eric, now thirty-four, didn’t look a day older than his supposed half-brother, due to his slower aging process he acquired in his late teens.
Whistler attacked high, as Eric parried and struck at his opponent’s midsection, connecting to end the session.
“Damn!” Whistler shouted. “I’ll get you one of these times, Blade.”
In recent years, Eric had taken on the name Blade. It was due to his superb swordsmanship and maintaining a hidden identity within the vampire community that he now regularly hunted.
Both of the men removed their fencing masks, tossing them aside.
“Keep saying that.” Blade showed his perfect teeth as he grinned in victory.
“Blade, come here.” Arthur shouted from the next room over.
Blade respectively nodded at Whistler as he left to go into the next room.
“Yeah?”
“I’ve got a new formula to try.” The aged Arthur said, holding a syringe in his hand.
Eric grimaced. “The last couple haven’t gone over so well.”
“I have faith in this one. Come on, give it a try.”
“Fine.” Blade took several steps closer to his mentor.
Arthur Whistler had been trying for several years to develop an antidote to cure Blade’s hunger for human blood. Unsuccessful so far, he had hoped this one would finally work. Eric had been able to mostly find alternatives for his hunger, but it was an extremely tough option for him to continue living that way.
It was especially bad when he slipped, having his hunger push him to needing live human blood. Usually when Blade reached his breaking point, the members of the brothel donated some of their blood to help him maintain his sanity.
Arthur stuck the needle into Blade’s neck, slowly injecting him with the liquid inside the syringe.
“Let me know how you feel in an hour.”
Eric rubbed his neck. “Sure.”
He turned around and left the room, heading into the kitchen. His mother was sitting at the table, eating a bowl of soup for lunch. Blade looked at his mom, reminiscing on how much she meant to him. She had always been there for him, no matter what the situation.
At this point in Blade’s life, Madame Vanity had shared the truth with him. Well, most of it at least.
“Eric.” She greeted him. “Take a seat.”
“Are you doing okay? You look tired.” Blade said as he took a seat across from her.
“Getting old will do that to you.” She smiled. “Luckily for you, you won’t ever have this problem.”
Blade let out a quiet laugh, which was a rare occasion.
Madame Vanity took a spoonful of her soup before speaking again. “I have something to share with you, Eric.”
Blade cocked an eyebrow in interest. “What is it?”
“You know what happened to your real mother. And you know why you are what you are.” She looked right into his eyes.
Blade nodded, still waiting to hear new information.
“Well, I never told you that I am well aware of who killed your mother and infected you with these abilities.”
Blade’s eyes widened, but he remained rather calm. “You know who killed my mother? Why haven’t you revealed this to Whistler and me? We can go hunt down the monster.”
“Because you weren’t ready and still aren’t. Deacon Frost, the man that killed your mother, is a very powerful vampire. It would be impossible to find him at this point and, even if you did, I’d fear the worst for you.”
“I’ll find him one day. Our paths will cross.”
“You may. And when you do, I hope you avenge your mother. I just don’t want you aimlessly dedicating your life to finding this vampire. You can do more good for this Earth than that. Eric, what you and Whistler do for the world is very important. Never lose sight of that.”
Blade stood up, looking directly at his mom. She was right. Hunting vampires, at least the truly evil ones, was an important duty that he had accepted. Frost’s time would come. Blade knew it would.
“I won’t.”
Blade then walked away.
Unfortunately, Blade wouldn’t keep this mindset forever. The thought of Frost murdering his mother would linger inside his mind and it would inevitably consume him.