Vampiro

The darkness surrounded him. It was like a blanket, sheltering him from the diseased ones outside of it. Those who have soled their dignity and self respect for a few shiny possessions and glorified labels. All of which have been given without having to be earned. Whores and the homeless spreading AIDS while starving, struggling to stay alive; if alive is what you want to call them. Children getting molested by preacher and business men evicting halfway houses only to be replaced with shopping centers. Athletes refusing to compete unless they are given a million dollars a game. It was pathetic and petty and it was growing more and more powerful every day. The human race has officially fallen from grace, forsaken by themselves and god. They were like sheep waiting to be slaughtered.

Vampiro couldn't suppress the faintest of smirks at that thought.

"Are you enjoying this, my son? Perhaps we should add a few snakes, if this is too easy for you?" Father Mitchell called down, his voice echoing off of the earthy tomb that surrounded him. He spoke to Vampiro as a true father would his son, the pride was thick in every mocking word.

He opened his eyes slowly, a beam of light nearly blinding him. They stung but he kept them open, taking in the bright blue sky above him. He was laying six feet below in his own crypt. Father James Mitchell had mad him dig it only hours before now. He was in nothing more than a pair of black bondage pants and a pair of biker boots. He had stripped off his shirt before he laid down in this six foot hole. Now his porcelain skin, inked with demons and dragons and other other worldly jesters, lay on the mounds of earth below. His long black braids rested against his calm face. He was completely still, as if he were nothing but another stiff in the ground. And yet, he could still feel crawling against his flesh.

Vampiro didn't speak, he just lay willing, watching as Father Mitchell poured down another bucket full of scorpions. This must of been the third or forth time he'd done this. Now Vampiro had no choice but to endure. Hundreds of little clawed feet and pincers dug into his flesh as they crawled across his espoused upper body. He was a bit surprised none of them had used their stingers yet.

His heart beat was calm and he wasn't even breaking a sweat. Perhaps it was because he wasn't frightened. His eyes strayed from place to place. First they watched James, standing six feet above in his black and red suit; clutching that little black book of his with a smile of his face that reached ear to ear. His beard even had a bit more of a curl to it and his long black hair had been pulled back into a tail. He must of really put some effort into this task.

When he wasn't watching his mentor, he was watching the creatures as they crawled all over his limp body. They seemed to be well aware that at any moment they could kill him; and still this didn't seem to phase him. Despite the poisonous stingers, Vampiro still felt like he was the predator in the situation.

'The Sinister Minister' Father Mitchell: Tell me, Ian, why have I brought this fate on you?

He asked, opening his Bible to peer down into it.

'The Blood Prince' Vampiro Tepes: To detach and to serve, my Father. To strengthen myself for that task at hand. The book tells me this is how it must be.

His voice was obedient but his eyes flashed with a strange, unspoken fire to them.

'The Sinister Minister' Father Mitchell: Quote the test to me, boy...

Vampiro smirked wickedly.

'The Blood Prince' Vampiro Tepes: "Ye are your fathers son, the Devil. And the father's wishes.... ye shall do - St. John 8:44".

James nodded as he closed the book again, giving the leather a light tap.

'The Sinister Minister' Father Mitchell: Very good.... very good. See, my son, this is your destiny. To take up the throne of The Father; the dark one himself. This is bigger than Championships and fame. This is more than making money. This is about restoring faith to those who have lost it. Provoking fear in those who don't even feel it from the Almighty himself. Ian, you are here to do what is best for The Order. Where others have failed, you will not. Instead you will thrive.

Vampiro gave a small nod in agreement.

'The Sinister Minister' Father Mitchell: And what is your objective this week?

This made Vampiro smile again.

'The Blood Prince' Vampiro Tepes: To kill the preacher known as Steve Bordon. His faith in God is but a mask for his own inner fear. His fear of death. A fear that was created when I set him on fire. The smell of his own skin blistering off of his face sickened him, and worse, frightened him into finding someone to make everything ok. He is a fool. A victim... my victim. It was sheer luck he escaped me last time. And even with the nWo at his side, he can not stop me. Steve will paint his face and become the crow.... but when he goes to flee in fear of his life, I shall rip his wings off and watch him flop in a puddle of his own blood. No fear... and no regret. The way it must be.

Mitchell chuckled diabolically.

'The Sinister Minister' Father Mitchell: The way it will be, my son, the way it will be. I have watched you grow from a misguided youth into what I see now, a true killer of men. Steve is under the impression that you, like him, are just another gimmick. He thinks this is fake. But you, you will prove him wrong. You will remind him why he clings so tightly to the words of Jesus Christ. We read from MY book because it tells the truth, and what it says, is that this is the end of days. The apocalypse... and you Ian, you are the ant-Christ. The devil made flesh.The people need someone to believe in, a new God for them to worship. So give them one, my son. Give them Vampiro.

His words seemed to call the beast out of Vampiro. It happened so fast, one moment he is six feet below the earth, covered in scorpions; and the next he was flying from the below and now stood just a few feet from Father Mitchell. He was completely unharmed. His arms flexed intently as his fists hung, balled at his sides. His eyes, they were the most haunting of his features. They were the eyes of a killer, the same eyes that men like Ted Bundy or Jack The Ripper had just before the world went black. Behind the handsome features, Ian Hodgkinson was a real monster.

Father Mitchell couldn't be happier. His eyes lowered down to Vampiro's tightly closed fist...

'The Sinister Minister' Father Mitchell: Have something, my son?

Vampiro ignored Jame's question, and asked one of his own.

'The Blood Prince' Vampiro Tepes: Do you know why I don't fear the Scorpions?

His eyes gleamed maliciously as he spoke. James shook his head no. Vampiro smirked, lifting his hand as he opens his fist. In his hand sat a very agitated black scorpion; It's stinger arched back, ready to strike. But just as the beast went to sting, Vampiro beat him to the punch. His fist squished the insect with a sickening "splat". Yellow gew now dripped from his tightly clenched fist as it dropped back down to his side.

'The Blood Prince' Vampiro Tepes: Because even with it's Stinger, even with it's claws and the fear it might try to provoke with them... in the end, I am still the faster and most lethal predator of all. I don't fear the Scorpions because I don't fear what I intend to kill first.

Vampiro wiped his hand clean on the earth below before straightening up and continuing down the dirt path. James Mitchell could almost burst with pride as he fallowed only three steps behind his student. Sting would be a fool not to be worried....

The scene fades to black.