Soren walked through the dark corridor, weighed down by what felt like destiny...either that or he’d eaten a bit more kolache for lunch than he remembered. Whatever the cause, the events of the next few weeks would be the beginning of the end.

The beginning of the end for both immortal races.

The enormous double doors at the end of the hall opened at his approach, where he was greeted by a large laboratory with a low, dull green light that bathed the room's occupants with its glow. The stench of an abundant amount of nicotine and stale caffeinated substances burned at his nostrils. The many scientists within wandered like zombies from station to station, working tirelessly at computers or extracting vials from a number of different specialized medical equipment.

Good, it was what he was paying them for after all.

“Status?” He asked loudly, to no one in particular.

The lead scientist, Dr. Anand, a tan woman with long flowing brown hair, intercepted his path. “Scans and tests are going well. With a few more intact samples, we think we’ll be able to replicate the virus in an environment outside of the hosts.”

“What else do you need?”

“Honestly? A little bit more time mostly. And shipping in a greater variety of test subjects might not hurt either…more werewolf test subjects, we’ve got enough human subjects to manage a small shopping-hub.”

"I could just bite someone for you again?"

"We’ve…come to understand that the virus mutates in incredibly subtle and externally negligible ways and only over time in older werewolves. If you bit someone right now, it would simply appear as your own version of the virus in the new host. And I've seen that a thousand times, and now Zahn's enough to know his by heart too. On a viral level, understanding those slight variations might make the difference between us finishing in a month or finishing in a few years."

A simple enough request, for a task of this importance. Neither strains of the virus had ever been successfully replicated, but humans with their ever advancing technology had gotten them closer than ever before. “Understood, I’ll get on it first thing,” Soren nodded finally and cleared his throat to project his voice. “However, I would ask you all to put your experiments on pause. Take a break for a little while, at least while I speak to him.” He paused as most of them slowly moved towards the doors. “Except you Anand and two others, decide who they are amongst yourselves.”

Two men reluctantly stayed behind and continued working at a console near their main test subject. Soren walked purposefully around them and turned to face the man he intended to question.

“Hello there.” He offered casually.

Zahn, who was strung up in neutron-treated durtanium shackles attached to a vertical restraint platform, looked up to regard him. Nothing but contempt in his eyes as he did.

Soren shook his head. “I’ll take that as a fuck you.”

The man’s chapped lips opened up into a malicious smile across his deep brown face. “Right on the money.”

“Still sore about the whole capture thing, tsk tsk?” Soren smiled. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, the floor was absolutely slick with vampir blood because of you. We were forced to put down a wet floor sign for insurance purposes.”

“The last person to manage capturing me at least had the decency not to talk so much,” Zahn said, ignoring his chirping as usual. “But he was a traitor too and I very quickly returned the favor…he died screeching like a howler monkey.”

“Something tells me that’s not how it’s gonna go this time,” Soren paced back and forth, further regarding his captive with disgust as he walked. “Just tell me where the new bases are located, I’ve got other shit to do.”

Zahn’s eyes scanned over him dispassionately. “They must’ve slipped my mind, but hanging here has jogged my memory about something else, Soren.”

Soren smiled and shook his head in feigned disappointment. Zahn recalling his name didn’t matter much, but that didn't mean he wouldn't miss the warm blanket of anonymity.

Zahn chuckled with a hoarse breath. “Hell, I was even at your wedding now that I think about it.”

“Yeah…I think you got us a bottle of zorba ale, you also drank half of it before either of us tasted a drop.”

“Sorry about that.” Zahn said with mock genuineness.

“Tastes like fuel anyway.”

“I also remember your wife being inconsolable when you died.”

Soren grimaced, he hated that the thought of her weeping still made him ache a little and the weakness made his fist tighten instinctively. She was the only wolf he hadn’t fully let go of yet and he fought a battle every day to rip her from his heart…

And it pissed him off how slow-going that battle was.

Zahn continued gleefully, noticing the emotional effect it was having on him. “But now, I just think Kara would be the first in line to rip your cock—.”

Soren seethed angrily as he sent the man’s skull echoing loudly off the back of the platform with a vicious headbutt, marking the metal with a deep imprint.

Anand and the scientists’ eyes snapped concernedly over at him, before cautiously returning to their work. A wide, satisfied smile opened across the Primum’s face as crimson blood dripped from his nose and coated the auburn hair that was messily draped over either side of his chin. And now, Soren was more mad at his lack of self-control, than he was at Zahn.

“Talk all you want, but keep…her…name out of your mouth,” Soren said as he forcibly calmed himself. “Fuck this, I’ll find out what I want eventually, for now let’s just have some fun.” He hovered his hand over the dial for the platform’s contorter function, ready to twist Zahn into a pretzel when the main doors to the lab snapped open again.

“Dr. Anand?” Vorteth called out, his long black robes billowing in the artificial breeze of the air-controllers as he arrogantly strode in.

“Yes sir?” She asked submissively, careful to avoid arousing his ire.

“Is our guest behaving amicably?”

“Well…no sir, but we’ve made progress despite his resistance.”

“Good.” He walked up to regard Zahn and Soren with equal distaste. “And how about you, my young wolf, are you behaving amicably?”

“I’m not your subordinate, Vorteth, save your stupid questions for your minions.” Soren beamed at Turk who was hovering in Vorteth’s shadow as usual, dressed in her typical red robes. Her brazen blonde mane seemed to flare in rage and she moved towards him with one hand primed on the handle of her sword.

But Vorteth stuck out an arm and laughed dryly. “I suppose you're right, we’re all partners. But do not forget yourself, you are allowed to continue breathing because currently our goals align. When they misalign? You may yet find yourself at our mercy.”

“What mercy?”

Vorteth smiled, his lips a darkened fissure on his inhumanly pale face, but it did not reach his yellow eyes. “Indeed.”

“Will you three ever get along?”

They all turned to see General Aarons slowly and purposefully stride down the stairs that led up to the upper-level of the lab. The very sight of his rigid military posture made Soren’s lower back hurt. Four of his elite shock-troops flanked him on either side, their bodies were uneven and mechanical. The extreme level of cybernetic augmentation they’d recently endured made them look even less human than Soren or the vampirs.

“General,” Vorteth said evenly. “How are you enjoying your new toys?”

“You vamps sure are creative. I’d reckon cybernetics would be at least three times more advanced, if it weren’t for you lot.”

Vorteth smiled wickedly. “Praise Noctalis. Unfortunately, I cannot take full credit, greater...well more interested minds are responsible for that particular business venture.”

Soren studied the humans intently as they approached. Aarons was more his ally than Vorteth was by a long-shot. Their goals for humanity were more similar. But the General was smart, too smart, and it’d be unwise to not keep one eye on him as well. “Where’s your contact at? He landed safely I’m sure?”

Aarons smiled as he came to a stop. “She, but yes, as gently as a dove. I was just on my way to see her, care to join me?”

Soren waved him away. “I’m not one for politics, I’ll probably get in the way. Hell, I haven't even voted since 1988.”

Aarons glanced back at his men, their expressions unreadable and cold. “I’m sure you're more than capable and my contact is nervous about the consequences of our failure, it’d do well for us to show a more…unified front. We need her support, remember? Even you should come Vorteth, though you might want to bring your mask, don’t want to scare her off now.”

“Oh, well that sounds splendid, I think I will join you,” Vorteth said happily, as if they were going out to brunch, seemingly ignoring Aarons' taunt. “Turk, remain here and help the good doctor with whatever she needs. Don’t feed on any of the scientists again please, they are much harder to come by. Grab one of the mercenaries if you’re hungry and of course, keep an eye on Zahn.”

“Of course, my Lord.” She bowed her head seriously.

Great, now he’d need to watch his front and his back.

Aarons scratched at his chin. “We’ve also got word of a few Celestia police squads sniffing around again, one pretty close to our facility if sensors are to be believed. Anyone want to take that along the way too or should I send some of my men?”

“I think I will. After being cooped up in here for so long…I’d more than like the exercise.” Vorteth declared with a homicidal glee in his eye.

 

Vorteth turned out of yet another of the dark halls that comprised the city of Celestia's underground labyrinth of tunnels. Snapping his sacrum persona into place, he took a deep mechanical breath through the mask. He could hear the not so distant chatter of Celestia’s finest squawking from on the other side of the next turn. With silent footsteps, he cloaked himself with the glorious shadow. A pitch blackness so thick now surrounded his body that even with his enhanced vision, he struggled to see the finer details of his own hands. Vorteth's lip curled into a predatory grin as he peered around the corner.

A squad of…thirty were moving down a section with a high, raised ceiling in nearly single file formation. Each donning bulky blue armor with the letters CPD written across their chest and shoulder-plates. A rifle he did not recognize was in each set of hands and a pistol attached to each hip, their faces all were covered by aggressive helmets with sharp angular eye slots atop the face-plate. The mass influx of personnel and equipment brought to their facility, and not to mention the incident with Zahn had drawn unwanted eyes.

They’d drawn attention to several routes of egress that their little band used to travel throughout the massive space-station. Their contacts in the police claimed that their superiors thought they were an old trafficking syndicate, one that used to operate out of the sewers. The bodies of these officers would undoubtedly add to furthering this notion, so he’d have to have some of his men come and move them to a secondary location to belay suspicion.

With a single bound, he leapt into the upper-confines of the hall and lied in wait for them as they stalked forward. His limbs spread out at his side easily supported his weight while they slowly sauntered underneath him. They didn’t appear to be in much of a hurry, maybe they discounted the possibility of running into any actual traffickers, or anything that posed a genuine threat for that matter.

And Vorteth was more than a genuine threat, he was a grave one.

He dropped and before he reached the ground he’d unsheathed his blade from his back in one deft movement, slicing the thin, argent blade through the air, he drove it through the last man in the formation’s helmeted skull and down through his chest.

“Something got Alex!” Another shouted, as he fired his pitiful weapon in an attempt to avenge his dead friend. But Vorteth’s blade found the space in between his helmet and chest-plate in a blink, already moving onto the next victim before his body hit the ground.

In the chaos and carnage, he reflected projectiles left and right back towards his enemies rapidly with lightning fast reflexes. The many impacts reverberated off his sword, a violent drum-line to the chorus of their screams, sending vibrations rattling up his powerful wrists as he swung. With inhuman acrobatic grace, he maneuvered his muscular form into the abyss above their heads with ease, back into the shadows. Their gunfire lit up the hall, but their eyes could still not pierce the darkness, their aim was flawed.

Dropping back between their shoddy defensive formation, blood splattered against the walls as Vorteth cut through them in well-practiced offensive arcs, spinning the weapon around in impossibly fast flourishes that went through flesh, bone, and armor with ease. The blinding movements whistled with each deadly maneuver.

One by one, they fell, until six, then three, and then finally one remained.

"Please! Please!" The lone survivor pleaded.

But Vorteth’s ears were deaf to mercy as he sliced his weapon in two, spun around and impaled him.

“Arrrghhh!!” The man screamed as he was lifted into the air by the handle of the blade with one arm.

With a flick of his thumb, the gutters extended from the handle’s wide top and even more blood rained down upon him. The bulk of it poured over his robes and onto the floor, but enough had entered the vial built into the handle’s base.

Noctalis would be more than pleased on this day.

Vorteth removed the filthy human impediment from his sword with a flick of his wrist and a thud. Allowing some of the excess blood to drip off of it and into his mouth before sheathing it, reinvigorating his every cell with power. The simple iron taste was more delicious than the finest wines or the most sought after delicacies. He could gorge himself on their corpses for the next day or two if he so chose…but this meeting was of great importance.

Not because of the blabbering politician herself, but the information that could be gleaned from all parties present. Information was power, the covens had only survived this long because they knew where and how to apply knowledge.

And even though his own coven had been detached from their vampir brethren for quite some time, he knew the others were still watching. He knew his alliance with an enemy immortal and walking food was somewhat sacrilegious and they would disapprove. Normally he wouldn’t care, but Vorteth would need the other lords’ support very soon and they wouldn’t commit to something profane…not without the potential for personal gain and knowledge of every facet of the operation. They, like him distasted wasted ventures.

And wisely so, Soren and Aarons had not been completely forthcoming about either of those stipulations.

Soren stood at the wide window of a large conference center in the center Celestia, the crown jewel of the Isle of Man. A space-station of such enormous proportions that it housed the largest non-planetary population of humanity in the known galaxy. A bustling and endless crowd of humans walked the streets below, some tall, some short, some filthy, and some clean. All coexisting in a sea of life, smoke, and light. Colossal cloud-breakers blended seamlessly with the shorter structures around them, their neon signs beckoning passerby with promises of food, merchandise, and various other indulgences.

The city was a spectacle of grandeur and artificiality, streams of aeroriders flew quietly in organized lanes above. The massive synthetic heliosphere bathed everything in a yellowish glow, casting elongated shadows across the unbelievably massive chamber that comprised the metal sky. A rail-system connected the constellations in a strange rotating jigsaw system, each piece perfectly shaped to accept the ones adjacent.

As the heliosphere began to set, Soren was snapped back to reality when the door on the other side of the room opened with a soft hiss. A procession of very serious men, armed with rifles marched around the conference table in a militaristic fashion, where they stopped rigidly on either side at attention. Their segmented yellow and white armor covered most of their bodies, save for their chiseled and stubbled jaws.

“We've simulated a number of contingency plans for any possible military and political response from either major government. It’s the corporations and unaffiliated systems we might have to worry about. Too unpredictable.” Aarons’ gruff, soldierly voice announced from the outside hall.

Following on the General’s heel, in addition to his cyborgs, was a tall, thin woman, with beige hair down to her hips. Her posture and gait was impossibly elegant as she walked into the room and her robes were regal, flowing, and golden. Her dark skin was smooth and she looked more like she was royalty than a magistrate. Which Soren supposed, was royalty compared to lesser positions in the technocratic Directorate.

“General,” Her soft spoken voice began. “Contingencies are of course appreciated and necessary. I’m simply more concerned with the plans that are going to get things started in the first place.”

“Of course, Tani.”

One of the Magistrate’s guards made a reach for a stun-baton on his hip, but one of Aarons’ cyborgs secured his arm inhumanly quickly. The rest of her guards raised their rifles in rapid reciprocal response, all of them aiming at Aarons and the single cyborg. Strangely ignoring the rest of the General’s security, even though they too were making ready for a fight.

Soren smiled knowingly as he calmly walked down the length of the right side of the table. If a firefight started in this enclosed space, the only ones walking out of here alive were himself and the cyborgs. The shortsighted men would effectively be sentencing their own leader to death.

“Stand down!” Tani said firmly. “He is no longer a citizen of the Directorate, and an unnecessary honorific is of no consequence for any of my companions in this room,” She calmly regarded Soren before returning her gaze to Aarons. “Besides, he’s an old friend of my father and a new one of mine.”

The men did as they were told like machines. Lowering their weapons in sync and without protest.

“Well said, Tani.” The General gestured to him as he stopped within a few feet of them. “This here is Soren, one of my associates I spoke about. Believe it or not, this young, looking man has provided the bulk of our capital, in addition to other necessary resources.”

The Magistrate reached out her hand gently as she studied his measure. “How do you do, Mister?”

He softly shook it. “Just Soren, if you don’t mind ma’am, I don’t really use my surname these days.”

“I would still know it, if you don’t mind? This for all intents and purposes is a business discussion…a business discussion with treasonous implications. And I’d like to know who I’m working with.” Tani said politely, but her seriousness while unspoken, was more than evident.

Soren smiled between her and Aarons, already she seemed to have a pretty good head on her shoulders and they’d need every functioning brain cell available to them to pull this all off.

“Pederson, Soren Pederson.”

“I’m pleased to make your acquaintance then, Soren.”

They sat down and began discussing the basics of each of their overall goals. Soren largely wanted nothing but to rid the galaxy of wolves…and the vampirs, but even with Vorteth not yet in attendance, it would be unwise to reveal his hand just yet, however obvious it may be. The General himself had also developed a healthy case of xenophobia for the immortal races, based on what Soren had told him. Along with the growing number of advanced syntho-forms and the outlying tribal peoples in the galaxy that behaved more like animals than men. But the man’s main distaste of course, was the Union government and its peoples. The last major galactic war had left a stain on his soul, and he was keen to see it wiped clean with their blood.

“So what is it that you want out of this, Tani?” Soren asked candidly. So far she’d been the most quiet at the table. She was carefully studying their words and convictions like a hawk. It made sense he supposed, she had the most to gain and the most to lose.

Tani seemed to consider her thoughts deeply for a moment before speaking. “I want a new era for my people, my era. As the General well knows, the integrity our peoples leaders, the Magisterium, has been slowly falling apart for centuries. There’s been an increase in bickering and in-fighting. During the relatively recent Rift War, there were even magistrates who were ignoring Union forces to deploy their troops in rival Directorate territories. This series of gross negligence left entire worlds open to slaughter and subjugation by Union soldiers. And only in the name of satisfying their petty wants and squabbles.”

"Really? I never heard anything about that." Soren said with genuine interest.

Tani smiled sadly. "If there's one thing my peers are good at, it's a media blackout and the quick elimination of innocents who know the truth, even their own soldiers."

The General looked down at the table coldly at her words. The man was far from emotional in any sense, whatever hell he’d seen during his short lifetime had hollowed him of most of those human indulgences. Despite this, he could feel the rage radiate off of his otherwise blank expression. Soren sometimes forgot how much harder it was to cope with war, when your buddies couldn’t regenerate after being blown in half.

“Now obviously, most of the magistrates responsible for those atrocities have since been executed,” Tani continued. “But the very system of the Directorate’s government leaves it open to corruption, I would seek to eliminate that system…and erect mine on its ashes.”

Soren barely heard an inhumanly quiet shuffle at the rear window, and turned to see an impossibly dark, and tall shadow standing in the fading light of the almost fully set heliosphere. But he wasn’t too concerned, if Vorteth had come to make a play on them, a homicidal play, he probably wouldn’t have heard him coming at all.

Tani gasped fearfully when she finally noticed him. “Guards!”

The soldiers aimed their weapons with the same uncanny precision and timing as before, but did not yet open fire or even command Vorteth to put his hands in the air.

What was with them?

“Please, continue, don’t stop your discussion on my account.” Vorteth said charmingly as he slowly sauntered into the room, completely unconcerned with the minor inconvenience the armed men in the room presented. His unsettlingly bright amber eyes and undead-like features were covered by his ritualistic persona or whatever the pale-faces called it again.

“It’s alright,” The General said evenly. “This is my other associate, I suppose I’ve told you little about him.”

“I hope you're not ashamed of me, General.” Vorteth chuckled with the mechanized thrum of his mask’s warbilizer.

“Not at all,” The General continued coldly. “Your role is a bit more specialized, and I didn't want to discuss the finer details before Tani and I established a more personal rapport.”

“Personal rapport? General…you dog, you're probably older than her father. Make sure to take your blood pressure medication, I don't think your heart could take interacting with a younger women for long.”

Vorteth’s voice normally annoyed Soren, modulated or not, but he cracked a barely perceptible smile at the vampir’s feigned impetuousness. He was probably still hopped up on all the blood he'd undoubtedly drank before he got here.

“I meant merely discussion, my Lord,” Aarons seethed. “We were just telling each of our intentions, would you care to explain yours?”

Soren still couldn’t see his mouth, but he clearly heard the wicked smile take form on the elder’s face as he spoke.

“Of course, what are friends for?”