Dante Dorian Johnson, age 22. College drop-out and now a failing journalist and moonlights as a store clerk. A totally ordinary life until he bumps into a surprising, mysterious and slightly worrying man-Renir Amarth-a person you wouldn't expect to meet in a warehouse!
"I'm late! I'm late!" I exclaim as I miss the train by mere seconds and it begins to speed into the tunnel. "Shit!" I hiss, realizing that I would never reach the press conference in time.
You see, I'm a college dropout, and now a failing journalist. Sucks to be me, I think as I board the next train that's five minutes after the last. I'm thankful to see free seats at a usually crowded hour. Luckily, this line ran to the station right near me apartment block. I had no chance of getting pay today, not this time. Those deadlines are really strict at the paper.
I sigh as I watch a few tunnel lights flash past the window opposite. The train jostles and everyone jostles with it. Why is it so silent on the subway? I ponder. The train begins to slow. It stops. I stand quickly; this is where I get off, Banner Heights. A rush foods out of the open doors. Following the crowd to outside, I see the orange, buzzing glow of the streetlamps. Was it the late already? I consult my wristwatch. Crikey, half ten! I didn't realize that I had spent so long on the train, I murmur with a shake of my head, and step out into the nightlife of Banner Heights.
I walk silently down the pavement to the apartment block that I call home. There's a load of burned out warehouses nearby which give it a council-estate look and feel, somewhere you wouldn't let your kids play, but it's an alright place. Especially considering how low my funds are.
There's a trio of people outside the entrance to the block. Guys from college, looking for dropouts to sneer at and beat up. Why couldn't they hang somewhere else? It's not like I'm the only one around here. One looks as though he ready to kill somebody, but another just seems bored. The third looks like he's just hanging with the other two, and shifts uncomfortably. He has cool hair. But I really don't want a confrontation right now, so instead of being a sensible person and go around the back, I decide to take a wander to the closest burned out warehouse. I'll just stay until they go. I can see them as I walk. From far-off, they don't seem all that clever, anyway.
I hunker down beside a wall and open up my badge-encrusted bag I carry around with me almost everywhere. In it is my camera, valuable beyond measure (to me anyway), a small notepad for my few journalistic opportunities and a bunch of pens. I also have a larger pad which I use to write unpublished scribbles or stories in.
I continue with one i started recently, surprising glad of the silence I have in the warehouse. The lighting isn't all that great, but the orange lamps provide just enough for illegible chicken scratchings. Soon after I begin, however, I start to hear a woman saying something followed by…other sounds. Just my luck. I had to choose the same warehouse as a horny couple. I try to carry on writing, trying to ignore the woman, bringing my jacket further around me to keep out the cold.
Then, to my surprise, the lady's sounds stop. Perhaps they got bored and left. It can't hurt to look; I reason and go look around the corner.
A man, tall and with dark, waist length hair in a ponytail holds the woman. I see her eyes; they look unconscious-or dead. The man sees me. I back up, on my knees as he places the woman on the ground and steps over her towards me. His eyes are red. Red eyes? That can't be right, but I'm too scared to look again. There’s something dripping from his chin. Is it blood?! He's going to kill me; he's going to kill me!
My back hits the wall. So fast? He comes nearer. And nearer. I'm sure that he's got a knife or something hidden on him. I'm scared, real scared. More scared than when I had to dress up as Corpse Bride at Lill's birthday party-by request. I can see his eyes even clearer now. They're red. Bright, blood red. That can't be possible! I shake my head as he kneels in front of me.
"Y-you're going to k-kill me, ar-aren't you?" I as in such a high-pitched voice. No wonder I was teased for sounding like a girl in high school and college.
His face is so close to mine, only his bangs separate my terrified face from his calm visage. Ragged breaths tumble out of my mouth. In one motion, the man takes my face in his hands and presses his lips onto mine. My green eyes grow wider, if that is even possible, and fixate on his unblinking ruby orbs. A sensation, a sensation of being pulled underwater comes over me and darkness fills my vision...