A Saint Reborn
"Do not ascribe to malice, that which is adequately explained by incompetence."-Robert Heimling The doors to the ER flew open with a bang as Micheal was wheeled in with swift urgency. The Opium had ceased his screaming but his burned arms were still a throbbing mess. Hot and cold, numb and agonizing at the same time. Patches of skin hanging off of him like he had been flayed, his extensive wounds were weeping blood and water. The way the hospital staff buzzed all around him was a hectic blur. As his heavy head slouched to one side, behind the window of a door by the big elevator, he could see what looked like a Doctor talking to two men in black suits. The Doctor, a younger man with short hair, was so obviously sweating bullets, that even a drugged up and traumatized burn victim that had just almost died, could see that something was wrong. The Doctor made many hand gestures that were utterly failing to appease the other two men. One of them pinned the man in white against the wall. Suddenly, before the events behind the window could play out, the elevator opened and the bed began to move. There was still aggressive chatter all around Micheal's head. Accusations hauled across the room as if the number one priority was to find a sinner amongst their ranks instead of providing someone in need of medical attention with a bed. "If Dr. Klein hears about this, you're the one who'll get their ass kicked, and if I get my ass kicked over this too, you'll be in a world of hurt, missy; I promise you that." "What is even you're point? Why do you gotta to be like this? Is this man's health not more important right now than whatever stupid paperwork we can sort out later? "I wouldn't be "like this", if you had called him in correctly! Is this guy even insured?" "Doesn't fucking matter! We'll sort this out once he is in his room." "Oh sure, it's your funeral." "Probably not though." "Whatever." The elevator closed. The motors came to life and he felt the sensation of being pulled upward. The nurse that was standing by his side was a friendly and kind lady. That much he could tell from how she spoke to him before. There is a certain warmth that you just can't fake. Yet, the tired but still tense expression on her face showed, that this sort of aggressive, stress fueled bickering was nothing but an everyday occurrence. The bags under her eyes standing out clearly against her light brown skin told that story very well. He decided that some levity might be of use. "Did I come by at a bad time?" She chuckled "No no, it always gets a bit chaotic during these hours. Best to just let it go into one ear and out the other." "Alright, I'll try." She looked at his burns. They were cleaned up a bit at the scene of the accident but were mostly still a mess of hanging skin and exposed, weeping flesh. See, just because there is also degree three and four, doesn't mean that second degree burns are to be taken lightly. They go deep enough to reach the layer of skin where the nerve endings sit, making them the most painful of all burns, as it leaves everything damaged, but also alive. "So what happened?" Micheal swallowed. It had been a mere hour or two since a faulty gas stove top launched a fiery blast at him. He got lucky that his face wasn't hurt all that bad and his eyes remained completely unharmed. He even managed to put out the part of his kitchen that had caught fire by himself. It was after the fire fighters, police and ambulance showed up and the adrenaline had worn off, that the pain began crawling through his limbs; he hadn't been able to hold a clear thought since. "Well... my stove top decided to explode at me..." "Damn, really? That's horrible. And here I was bothered by not finding time to cook." "Funnily enough, I can count all the times I used the fucking thing on one hand." He held up his hand in an automatic gesture and as it came into his view he took a close look at the appendage he had taken for granted all his life. Swollen and red, speckled with white spots of dead skin and glistening with hemorrhaging fluids. She saw how he retreated inward at the sight. "You'll be fine. We're good at this sort of thing, you know?" He gave a tiny, desperate chuckle "I hope you're right. I don't even know where my head is at right now..." "On a shitload of morphine." She said with a smile.They both laughed, her laugh exhausted, his laugh desperate. "We'll just bandage you up, give you something to help you sleep and the Doctor will see you tomorrow at 9 am, alright?" He nodded. The elevator stopped. Fourth floor. She pushed the bed down a curved hallway, the claustrophobic light of the hospital made everything appear sharp angled with even sharper shadows and reflections; piercing and cutting through the opiate haze Micheal was in. After rolling past the nurses office of the station, they arrived in another hallway. One of them would lead to his new temporary residence; room 1408. She wheeled him in. It was a standard, hundred twenty square ft hospital room with a big window leading to the dense darkness of the pine trees planted all around the hospital grounds. The kind nurse spoke softly to him, like a mother would to a child. "I will get my colleague and get the bandages and ointments ready. It will only be a minute. Here is the remote for your bed. If you should need anything, you press that red button right there. Someone will come running." "Thank you; I appreciate that. Could you also bring me some water?" "For sure. With or without fizz?" "No fizz for me, please." "Alright, I'll be right back." "Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere." She politely smiled at the obvious joke and left the room. He gazed up at the clock. It was 2:35 am now. That midnight snack was going to cost him far beyond the price of the ramen noodles he was about to cook up. It was completely out of nowhere. Just a sudden blast of engulfing flame that turned his arms into a fleshy mess that had already wetted and stained his sheets in sickly tones of yellow and red. The door opened again and the kind lady returned with a male nurse that looked like he was still going through puberty. They wheeled in a tray with bandages, which they applied thickly to his arms and face. He wondered why they bandaged his head as well, as his face had barely been touched by the fire and didn't look all that bad, as his beard burned up first before the fire could get to his skin. It wouldn't be till they changed his bandages two days later that Micheal realized how badly even this light contact had hit him. So there he was, sitting like a mummy in his hospital bed. Next, they put a drip in his right foot. Which seemed like a challenge for the adolescent looking nurse. "I'm sorry sir. It is hard to find a vein..." The female nurse walked over, looked at his foot, and put it inside him in a single try. "You'll get it next time, Randal." "So what are you giving me there?" Micheal asked. The young guy chimed in, seemingly happy to get something right. "That's an Ibuprofen drip." "Ibuprofen? That shit barely works when I got a headache." "Maybe so, but these burns are an injury that affects your vegetative nervous system, and Ibuprofen is just more effective at numbing that kinda pain." The female nurse softly elbowed him in the side. "Very good Randal! Now you just got to get better at hitting veins." He laughed nervously "Hey, I'm trying!" Micheal couldn't join in with the quips. Now that he was in these thick, stiff bandages, it was really sinking in how badly injured he was. When the lady saw that he was clearly sliding into depression she tried her best to give him something to look forward to. "In a few days you'll be able to get some lighter bandages. The Doctor will see you first thing tomorrow morning. Try and get some sleep. Goodnight, and get well soon." "...Goodnight." They turned the lights off and left. Now he sat there in his darkness and misery. Every little twitch of his body was uncomfortable. No thought wanted to really stay in an observable state. It was all torn up by mental intrusions about guilt and projections about why it happened. Useless psychological invaders trying to make sense of a Universe that never will. After a good long while of existential fencing, he gave up on the black ball in his mind. He closed his eyes and decided to let the drugs do their job. It wasn't long till exhaustion and sedation granted him some rest. The next day Micheal was awoken by a Doctor, disturbing his sleep for the routine visitation. He introduced himself as Dr. Klein. He was a skinny man in his late fifties, who had already lost most of his grey hair. His glasses seemed to be a bit ill fitting, as he fixed them with what felt like every other hand motion. Dr. Klein explained to Micheal that his second degree burns were quite the serious matter and that he should expect a three to five week stay, and about two or three operations; depending on if he needed skin transplants or not. As the Doctor was about to leave, he got stopped in his tracks by his patient. "Excuse me Doc..." "Y-yes?" "When I was brought into the ER, I saw two guys in black suits push around one of you guys. I just thought I'd let you know." As Klein heard this, a sudden shade of anxiety rushed over his face. "R-really? Ummm... I haven't heard of any such thing but thank you for bringing it to my attention. I-I'll be sure to look into it. I'll see you again at the end of the week to discuss your operation." With that the Doctor left. Time in a hospital flows differently. Every minute in that bed is slower than an ice age. Especially if you're in such a desolate state. Nurses came and went, horrible hospital food came and went, the changing of his bandages came and went, painkillers came and went; routines lit by only the harshest of white lights. Yet, even with such a perceived distortion of time, the night before his operation came crawling around eventually. They were going to thoroughly clean his wounds in order for the healing to go as smoothly as possible. He was about to get his last load of painkillers for the day. The door opened and a nurse wheeled in the usual tray of drugs. He had not seen her before. Long strands of thick, auburn hair hung down in front of her face, making it impossible to see it clearly. "Good evening" Micheal started. No reaction "Alright...", he almost sighed. Something was off about this that he couldn't quite place. Sure, some of the nurses were incredibly rude and the one that put some lighter bandages on him a few days ago straight up forgot to give him painkillers beforehand, so he got to enjoy a period of extra anguish alongside his new, more mobile bandages. What even the worst among them didn't do though, was give patients the silent treatment for no reason. Micheal watched as the woman moved around the room as if on tracks. She seemed to always be positioned in such a way that obscured her face to him. "Fine" Micheal thought, "If she wasn't up for conversation, let her have her way. The painkillers were the important part of this interaction anyhow." He took a peek at the clock; it was 21:30 pm. He looked at his bandages, hoping that tomorrow, modern medicine would make everything better and that that included him bypassing the need for skin transplants. He felt strongly about not requiring further injury to fix the abundance that he already had. As he was taking this train of thought, a palm struck his face, pressing him down into his pillow with vicious intent. He struggled in his heavily medicated state but it wasn't enough. He felt the sharp pain of a needle penetrating his neck, then the sensation of whatever was inside the syringe being pumped into him. He flailed his arms around in the hope it might somehow help to defend himself from his attacker. Every slight movement already caused something between major discomfort and disgusting pain. Every nerve in his body signaled to him that using his wounds as weapons was the last thing he should be doing right now; but there was no other recourse in sight. Suddenly, the Nurse let go and ran out of the room. He was in agony from the struggle, but he had just enough adrenaline in him to decide he wouldn't let her get away. He wormed himself to his feet and stumbled out into the hallway; not even pressing the emergency button by his bedside. Frantically looking up and down the hall, the concern about what had just been forced into his system was ever present. It didn't take long for Micheal to spot his blindsiding assailant. She stood at the end of the hallway and was talking to two men in black suits, who could have very well been the ones he saw bullying one of the Doctors, but they were too far away to know for sure. As the Nurse then looked into his direction, she froze, a look of honest shock on her face. As the man closest to her turned to see what she was looking at, he got angry. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" He cried out, before smacking her across the face so hard that it echoed loudly down the hall. What was all this about? Why are some men in black types bullying Doctors and slapping Nurses who themselves seem to moonlight as assassins and why assassinate a nobody like himself anyway? As he observed the ominous exchange he stood on legs who have never been further away from stability, and his entire being was one, nasty pain; yet he was determined to understand what the meaning of this nightly assault was. He limped towards the group of shady characters and was about to give them an earful, as something stopped him in his track he had never experienced before. A sharp jolt ran through him. A numbness expanded in his chest and a cold horror crawled up his spine. As he looked down, he could only cough up a shallow gasp as he realized what had stopped him. A sharp claw or stinger had pierced him from behind. There was no pain, just a morbid coldness as crimson spilled from the terrible wound. He would have instinctively gripped the spike exiting his chest, but his hands couldn't move. The suites down the hall looked at him in a rather annoyed manner, before grabbing the nurse by her arm and dragging the begging mess she was into the unknown. Micheal began to shake uncontrollably. He could feel something enter his neck and shoulder. Blackness swallowed him. When he woke up his body was totally out of control. Every inch of him was racing with pain. The edges of his wounds pulsated like never before and every time he moved his vision blurred as his agony surged. He screamed and cried for help, or maybe even mercy. The torment was so great he couldn't even consider the fact that he got mauled in the hallway and was now safely back in his hospital bed. He had enough presence of mind to hit the button that called for the nurse, even though it wasn't really necessary. His screams were disturbing even for a burn ward. The nurse that urgently entered his room was the friendly woman that had brought him up here on his first night. "What's wrong?" Between gurgled incessant screaming and anguished sobs, all she could make out was "Help me!" She called for a Doctor and send another nurse to get some pain medicine. In the following hours every pain killer known to man would fail. They pumped him as full of Fentanyl as they were legally allowed to and the despair of the patient only increased as the terror wreaking havoc on his broken body remained a mystery. The Nurse pulled Dr. Klein aside "Have you ever seen something like this before?" Dr. Klein swallowed and fixed his glasses "I have seen strange reactions to medication but this is new to me. We have given him so much Fentanyl, he already has one foot in the grave. I don't know how we are supposed to put him under for the operation when nothing works." "What about the program? He could be perfect for it." Dr. Klein's face was held tight by stoic worry "Even if you're right, I don't think it is ethical to offer such a dangerous thing to someone in such a desolate state." "With all due respect, do you see another way? We can't throw anymore Fentanyl at him at this point. Let's go live up to the hypocratic oath and offer him the damn drug." Dr. Klein's face twitched a little "Where is this sudden passion coming from, Mrs. Green?" "I have been in this line of work my whole life and I have never heard someone scream like that..." Micheal was a coil of suffering flesh. Nothing made sense. Sounds disappeared or grew louder beyond measure without rhyme or reason. He felt like a city in a firebombing. He would have wished for death if he could have held onto a thought for long enough to manifest that desire. He had screamed many a fragment about murderous nurses and fangs in the hallway. He did have three odd puncture wounds lined up right on the spot where the neck goes into the shoulder, but despite not being able to explain that away, the hospital staff seemingly put it all off as pain induced delusions. Suddenly, two men entered. They sported the same kind of black suite the men in the hallway had. As he was writhing in his stupefying anguish, the men realized they will face the same communication issues the staff had. One of them lifted his right index finger and said: "Shut up for a second". Micheal immediately stopped moving as if restrained by invisible binds. The pain didn't stop, he just didn't do anything against it anymore. The man continued, his partner just stoically standing behind him. "Excellent. Now, we have heard you're in so much pain you can't even coherently beg for death, is that right?" Without even realizing, Micheal nodded "Then we have an offer you won't refuse. This is currently my favorite NDA. It is for a new pain medication we're testing. It might just be the only thing in the world that can help you. You want it?" He nodded again "Excellent. Sign right here". The black suit held out the NDA and a golden fountain pen, and somehow Micheal had enough control of his tortured faculties to sign his name, even if it was in a pathetic scrawl. "That will do. Hand me the syringe please". "Certainly", said the other man and produced a pale, violet liquid, held in a container that looked more like a translucent sea shell than any syringe Micheal had ever seen, but still had a needle on its business end all the same. "Excellent", the first man repeated before injecting Micheal with the strange concoction. They both nodded to each other and left without saying another word. He was all alone again and amazingly, without pain. He looked around in awe. He felt reborn. He moved each finger of his hand carefully and even though there was still the tight strain from his burns, they at least worked without spiraling his entire system. Micheal looked around and noticed that his surroundings began to change. Everything was bathed in a soft pink light, pulling a psychedelic pastel filter over his sterile hospital world. It felt indescribable, not in an overwhelming way, more like a sort of floaty, disassociated wave that bopped him gently in place. He finally had the peace of mind to collect himself a little. He had spend too much time in too much pain to even think, so every breath he took now felt like a massive bass drop of relief; a reminder of normal, functional life. This was only exacerbated by the strange research chemicals. The sunset outside flickered every once in a while like the glitching sky box of an old video game, birds would freeze mid flight, twitch and suddenly disappear and the cars passing by sounded like the ocean tumbling onto the shore, but tuned down a couple of octaves to a white noise drawl. As the minutes drifted by, the feeling shifted. It was slight at first. Like his bed was swaying just enough to notice but then, in an odd, angular flood of lights and chemicals, his trip lead to a swirl of his entire cognition. He felt rushes of hot and cold, calm and anxiety coiling and switching within unforeseeable intervals. He was unknowingly screaming his head off, as he himself could only hear an alien sound collage that contained so much information that his high voltage mind state absorbed the audio equivalent of a hellish kaleidoscope, so full of melody, so full of rhythm, composed of sounds and notes no human would ever hear, of which he only received the fewest of fragments; the ones his mind could comprehend. After an indiscernible amount of time, the thrashing storm slowed to an anesthetic breeze and the men who administered the drug walked back in. "Hey there. How are we feeling?" Now that he was conscious enough, he noticed they both looked exactly like another. "You guys twins?" He mumbled in a stupor "Something like that. Back to you though..." The man straightened his tie and held out his hand to his co-agent, who pulled an odd apparatus out of the same briefcase that held the alien syringe earlier. The device looked somewhat like a gun metal grey megaphone, but an antenna extended out of the center. The man took the odd instrument and plugged its power cable into a port on the side of his briefcase, that seemed to have no end to its functionality. The man in black then pointed the thing at the tripping, bed ridden burn victim and hit a switch on the right side of the "gun". A slight buzz could be heard, but other than that, nothing else seemed to happen. "Excellent..." The man put the device away. They wished him a speedy recovery and went off into the night. Suddenly, blackness enveloped him and he fell into the deepest sleep of his life. When he woke up again, he felt like he never had before. He was still undoubtedly an injured man but a power pulsed underneath his burned skin that was undeniable. He looked at his bandaged hands. A rush of images of all the things his hands were capable of flashed through his mind. Grabbing, clutching, hitting, slashing, ripping, tearing, mangling, choking, smashing, smothering, clawing, crushing, gouging and the desire to experience all these motions. The door opened, snapping him out of his day dream. It was Randal, the young nurse that had bumbled his way through each and every encounter they ever had. "H-hey there..." The timid youth's hands trembled pathetically as they held his clipboard. "I'm supposed to check up on you and see how you're feeling... So... How are you doing?" Micheal looked at him with unwavering focus. Never had a person looked like this to him before. A collection of veins and nerves sprawling throughout an almost aura like human shape. "S-should I just come back later or..." "No, please. I don't mean to be rude... Ummm, Randal, was it?" "Y-yeah... ummm... alright.." Randal timidly stepped closer to the bed. He held his clipboard in front of his chest like a worthless shield. He erratically wiggled his fingers around its edges as he tried to remember which questions he was supposed to ask again. It wouldn't matter. As soon as Randal got close enough, a bandaged hand grabbed his collar and with a forceful yank Randal's head smashed into the metal frame of the hospital bed. Randal's vision blurred as he found himself on the floor, blood pouring out of his broken face. He scrambled towards the door, thoughtless flight as a last ditch effort to survive, but a vice like grip ceased him, and as he was pulled up by his scalp, he realized that that door might as well be miles away. Randal was now face to face with his predator; the same patient that had screamed up a storm of torment just yesterday. His eyes were no longer human. He opened his mouth and his tongue split at the tip. An assortment of small fangs revealed themselves, clustered around a throat like hole in which a black stinger sat, twitching ever so slightly in anticipation. The appendage dug right into Randal's artery as the inhuman attacker bit him in the neck. The young nurse was drained of blood within seconds. Randal's bloodless husk fell to the linoleum floor with a dull thud. Micheal was only slowly realizing what had just happened, but even in the face of this horror his hands were still. His heart pounded loudly, but steady. Micheal would have been shaken to his core by this sudden turn towards murder and vampirism, but whatever was happening to his body as it pulled all of the nutrients out of the young man's blood was too enthralling. He was no longer bound to that damned bed. He was going to get some answers. The door to room 1408 burst into splinters. Two Doctors, one of them Dr. Klein, choked on their conversation as the silence after the explosion of wood, metal and glass was filled with the most animalistic sound they ever heard as every heave of Micheal's chest pushed another rattling snarl out of his throat, triggering primal instincts our ancestors have known from the dawn of time, as they faced the darkest corners of ancient Earth. The black of Micheal's eyes frenzied pin points, he focused in on the two Doctors. Micheal recognized Klein and lunged for the old man while his younger colleague fled down the hallway. Micheal's feet pushing off the floor was like his hamstrings where mighty pistons firing against gravity. His flight was effortless and as he snatched Dr. Klein by the throat and pinned his former caretaker against the wall, it took no more effort than it would to toss a pillow onto a couch. "What have you done to me?" Never would Micheal have thought his voice could sound so brutal. Like an old, rusty sword being dragged through gravel or fire consuming a house. As his hostage could squeeze no answer past the death grip around his throat, Micheal threw Klein to the floor, only to snatch him back up and pin him against the opposite wall; by his collar this time. "Answer me!" The Doctor's broken glasses slipped off of his face as he coughed pathetically from a now raw throat. "You don't know what you're asking if you think I could even begin to explain it to you." The formerly skittish Doctor spoke with a resolve that was unexpected to say the least. "Kill me if you have to, dying was a risk I was willing to take from the start. I have seen what they are capable of, nothing about you scares me in anyway. I have nothing more to say to you..." The old man's face was still. It was clear Klein wouldn't budge. As the interrogation had fallen short, there was an awkward silence between the enraged patient and the still pinned medical professional. Micheal decided to let the man go and Klein slid to the floor. "Just tell me where I can find them..." Doctor Klein struggled to his feet and dusted himself off, took a second pair of glasses out of his pocket and put them onto his disheveled face. "Certainly, if you insist to march straight into your doom, I guess this little problem here will simply sort itself out." He pointed down the hallway. "You have to cross the bridge to the other wing of the hospital and then follow the signs to the office that says-" Suddenly Klein flashed a needle he had hidden somewhere in his coat and stabbed at Micheal. The old man was commendably fast in his sneak attack, but it wasn't fast enough. As Micheal grabbed the wrist of the syringe baring hand, the same strength he had just used to lift a grown man into the air, or tear a reinforced door apart like it was a sandcastle, he now used to snap his attackers arms like a twig. Dr. Klein screamed a wildly modulating howl as his broken ulna pierced his flesh, before the same jagged tip of bone was rammed into his throat, silencing him with a bloody gurgle. Wide eyed, the dying man fell to the floor, his mangled arm still stuck in his neck, his second pair of glasses smashed and as shock, blood loss and lack of oxygen began to close the curtains on Dr Klein, he could only look up at the survivor of his desperate Hail Mary, who's determination radiated revenge. Micheal tore a transponder off of Klein's key chain and left him to fade out as his blood spread across the freshly wiped floor. As he thought of what to do next, the lights all went out with a startling bang, then a PA system crackled to life. A softly sobbing voice dripped out of the speakers. "I... I-I'm so sorry I..." Sobs and cries interrupted the speech until a pained gasp put a stop to that. The voice carried on as the speaker did their best to hold back tears. "You sh-should surrender. Just walk out onto the parking lot and stop resisting." Another pained sound pressed itself through gritted teeth that eventually released into a sharp cry. "....cross the bridge to the west wing. We'll meet you there." The speakers fell silent. His head was pounding as he reached for a clear thought on what to do. His whole body was racing with adrenaline, screaming at him to run off. Run off to where though? He could leave the Hospital entirely if he so desired, simply jump out of the next window; but then what?He decided there is no other course to take then to meet whatever awaited him on that bridge to the west wing. His steps frantically echoed down the corridors of a hospital that was now somehow completely devoid of life. No patients, no nurses, all people seemingly raptured into thin air. As he finally reached the bridge to the west wing, a walkway lined with glass on either side, he saw something that made him shudder. As he looked out onto the parking lot through the big panorama windows, he could see the entire hospital staff standing out there in the pale moonlight, perfectly still, like a congregation of menacing statues. The dark pine trees rose up behind the hospital grounds like spires, looming over the gathering. He couldn't say for sure at this distance, but it felt like their gaze singled in on him, piercing him from afar. His dread was interrupted as he heard shuffling steps and shallow breathing coming out of the shadows on the other end of the bridge. The auburn haired Nurse that assaulted him slowly moved out of the darkness with all the grace of a drunk trying to walk off a hit-and-run accident. Each step was an ordeal and as she dragged herself into the light of the full moon he could see why. She was covered in cuts and bruises from head to toe. The look in her eyes was so full of fear and regret that Micheal was stunned into silence. He was so sure of himself that he would have torn her to shreds the moment he saw her, but here he was, his abuser already broken and now a heart rendering sight to behold as her busted knees looked like they would buckle at any moment. Micheal searched for something to say, anything, as this tortured woman stood before him on this moonlit bridge, just as mute as he was, while an auditorium of distant onlookers silently beheld the scene. Something else decided to break the ice first. "Say your lines, please..." A voice spoke out from the dark that was so deep and commanding that Micheal's blood froze. Like a King so powerful that the walls of his castle would bend to his whims. The woman forced herself to stand up straight against all pain and injury. Tears streamed down her face as she began to speak. "I'm so so sorry. Please forgive me. I was supposed to mark you as to-be-spared but I gave you too much and I... I'm so sorry." His tongue was still. Whatever she expected him to say, it wasn't coming out of his mouth. After what seemed like forever, he answered. "So this is all some stupid mistake? I am like this because... you "messed up"?" "I'm sorry I wish I could do something-" "But you can't, can you? I'm a Monster now and that's it. End of Story..." The voice from the dark spoke again. "It doesn't seem like he wants to forgive you. Not everyone has it in their heart to follow "love your enemy as thy neighbor"; can you blame them? You have committed great sin against this man, as well as our Organization. You have been punished for those sins, your Stigmata show that clearly. Yet the grievances run deep. Forgiveness is a divine act, so maybe you can in turn forgive him the rage that doesn't let him work such divinity himself. It would be a final act of great faith to do so, as this sadly has to be the end of the road for you." Her bloodshot eyes widened in terror. There was a moment of tense, dreadful silence. A pin drop would have felt like a gunshot. Out of the obscuring shadows, a long, red tendril baring claw like fangs at the end launched out of the shadows and pulled her back into the darkness at the end of the bridge. Micheal heard her struggle and plead for a few seconds, before a sound that could only be described as the violent removal of life echoed out into the empty hospital, followed by the splash and thud of a corpse falling into its own guts as it hit the ground. Micheal didn't know what to think or feel anymore. Where there once was justice and revenge bolstering his heart, there was now just emptiness and neither was there a future for a bloodthirsty beast such as himself that he could see. Part of Micheal hoped the Entity on the other side would simply take him next. "Do not ascribe to malice, that which is adequately explained by incompetence." Heavy steps announced the Entity moving towards him. The first thing illuminated by the moonlight where the sharp tips of long, black horns, before the head they were attached to revealed itself. The grey skinned creature was like a Gargoyle from Hell and stood at least ten foot high, with a pair of massive wings on its back that it couldn't even fully extend inside the confines of the glass lined bridge, and a whip like tail that was covered in horrid scales that made it almost seem more like a sword. It spoke in a manner that was a mix a corporate casual and mildly inconvenienced, which absurdly contrasted with the primal sound of its bass filled voice. "Let me say earnestly, it truly was a foolish mistake that brought us together here tonight, and I must admit that you're correct... It can't be undone." The Gargoyle looked out towards his subjects in the parking lot. It sighed a heavy breath that caused a lion-esque rumble in its throat. "I can only offer you mercy, which is death, or a burden, which is an entirely new life. Either way, you can never return to anything you've ever known in the past. I'm sorry Micheal, but it is all gone." "So I have to make a Sophie's Choice I don't even fully understand, and one of the options is getting torn apart by whatever the fuck you are, great." The Gargoyle spun around. "How dare you?"He roared like a whole forest of animals. Micheal froze in place as the Beast took a quick stride towards him. "I have acknowledged that this is on us and, by proxy, on me. I have only acted cordially towards you, even though you killed a nurse and Dr. Klein, who was extremely important to our operation. I could have killed you that night in the hallway if I had wanted to. You could at least show some manners." "I-I'm sorry... it is just hard to... wrap my head around all this. What do you mean by new life?" "It means that you will serve as a vessel for our purposes. A Saint reborn and a powerful warrior along side us. Refuse and die, fight for us and you might live; such is the paradigm." Micheal looked inside himself and battled scenarios in his mind for a bit. The Gargoyle respected his process and patiently awaited the answer. "My father used to say: "Never take all pieces off the board" and I always lived by that, so you're already wrong, not everything will be lost to me. The most important things stay right here with me anyhow. So I accept your bargain... What's your name?" The gray Beast hesitated for a second before answering: "Azazel... I'm honored to know you as my Champion." Azazel extended one of his claws and pushed it into his new Champion's forehead. Runes lit up along side Azazel's claws in a violet hue and as a rush that almost felt like flight took hold of Micheal, Azazel's eyes lit up in the same otherworldly light. After what Micheal could have sworn was a shock wave encompassing the entire world, he came to, still on the bridge overlooking the hospital grounds. Azazel looked down at him with relief. "Good, you survived. I was right about you after all." Micheal got up and looked at his new master with a sense of overwhelming purpose. "So what happens now?" Azazel let out what could be called "a chuckle" "You have a lot to learn about, and I unfortunately haven't the time to teach you. I will leave you in good hands though, don't worry." Azazel turned around and walked back into the darkness dropping a "Dominion, show him the ropes" before leaving. A group of the men in black appeared almost out of nowhere, all looking completely identical. One stepped forward and put his hand on Micheal's shoulder. "So, you might wonder what you have become on this fateful night, well, one thing is for sure, Mikael; you're no Vampire." The End Micheal sat on a bench in Venice Beach, California, staring at the sun down and listening to the repeating crescendo of the waves. His mind was awash with knowledge that would leave the biggest truth seeker filled with regret. Suddenly, a male voice tore him from his haze. "So this is who you are now, huh?" Mikael turned around to see a stranger in a long, black coat and equally dark sun glasses, oddly not bothered by the California heat. For a reason he couldn't explain the man felt as familiar to him as he felt unknown. The pale stranger sat down beside him. "Oh, don't worry, I know it's weird. We have done this old song and dance so many times now. It will take a while until you're fully back with us." Mikael's eyebrows raised in obvious confusion. "Who are you?" "You'll remember soon enough, Mikael. As far as Micheal is concerned, you'll get evicted soon enough. Enjoy the weather while you still can, before you inevitably get flung from the driver seat." Mikael didn't know how to respond, but he didn't have to, as Dominion showed up as he knew them, two men in black. "That's enough. You're going off script a bit too often lately, don't you think?" The pale man laughed in a purposefully fake way. "You have no idea how much improv goes into this business, hive boy." He got up, towering over Dominion. "But how could you? You are nothing but an over glorified Ant Queen, aren't you? Also, my shades are much cooler than yours." He turned around to Mikael. "Don't worry, once you get back into shape I'll be right here to kick your ass. Oh, and Micheal, good riddance." The pale stranger left. Dominion touched Mikael's shoulder. "Forget about that guy. We have a job to do. Something is rotten in the State of Denmark."
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