improv....

Today is Derek's birthday. I think he's getting better, but he also seems a bit withdrawn. According to one of the guys here, Derek has an extensive amount of psychology and psy op. training, so it's hard to tell if he's improving or improvising.

July 27th 2012

I am up very early this evening. There is evidence to suggest that great suffering may be headed our way. I truly hope that I am wrong.

Restraint

My exhausted friend sleeps. Derek is having trouble adjusting to his new biology, but I am hopeful. His outbreaks are less frequent now. I think in time he will resume the existence of whatever...whoever he was. I restrained him just as a precaution. I traveled into the city of Winston-Salem by way of wooded areas. I consumed a fresh kill on the way in. Something about inflicting the "dark gift", makes me hunger for the more primal days of my childhood. The days of simplicity and wonder. I now lurk in the shadows amongst a multitude of balconies and survey the bustling below. The small groups of unsuspecting citizens, partaking in recreation and the bicycling officers who parade the streets. The townspeople are quick to forget the frailty of their lives, until confronted by a dark fate. The officers would be slow to realize how their dominance can be threatened in the blink of an eye. They go about their lives assuming that tonight is like any other and tomorrow will be likewise. So far they assume correctly, but sometimes I wonder why I restrain my contempt for your "humanity". I am every bit as dangerous as you would imagine. I have been provoked on more than one occasion. It seems the concept for many of you is that you're not truly living unless you're tempting your own undoing. I stand motionless for hours, observing and noting your scents and behaviors and patterns. I attempt to understand what you hope to find in your evening rituals...acceptance?...peace? ...salvation?

Q&A

Things are finally beginning to wind down here. The perimeter has remained secure for over twenty-four hours now and everyone seems a little more at ease. There is still somethings that weigh heavy on my mind, but I can think somewhat clearer now. Derek has proven to be quite an interesting character. He has competed in everything from track to boxing and was a "Golden Gloves" runner up. He talked with me for about three hours yesterday, explaining his positions and commitments in life. For the most part, he seemed candid and friendly, but I could see the hostility in his eyes. He is jaded about the way he feels the government used him. He is vengeful of the agents who inflicted his wounds. All of this is natural I suppose, but there is something else. Something he's not sharing with me. As our conversation ended last night, I asked if there was anything more and he hesitated. Maybe it was nothing, but the way he looked at me...like there was something clawing from behind his eyes, trying to make itself known to me.

Mental State

Derek's physical recovery is complete. His mental state is yet to be diagnosed. He is for the most part angry and "bent" on getting revenge. This is a logical and expected reaction. The difficulty lies in knowing how much of his mental duress is natural and how much is due to the chemical changes I caused to his system. There is also a good chance that he may have developed P.T.S.D. from his recent encounter with Homeland Security. His body took to the physical change quite well. Much better than Charles or anyone else who's ever received the dark gift. With his new physical abilities coupled with his military and militia training, he is unmatched by any human, thus I must watch over him and make sure he remains mentally stable...or at least physically restrained.

To whom it may concern:

I see you're out. I'm glad you're safe. I hate to know you suffer. I'm sorry that my insight didn't forecast such an apocalypse of action. I understand if you choose to sever yourself from me, or if you have no choice. I am here. I am always here.

Derek

Hello everyone, I'm sorry it's been so long since I posted last. So much has happened, I don't know where to begin. Derek is not who I thought he was. I relocated to Winston-Salem, as my Chapel Hill location was breached. The breach lead Homeland Security to a place called Lewisville.(A small town on the outskirts of Winston-Salem.) They were able to pin me down in an abandoned dwelling for about half and hour, but I evaded them with only minor cuts and bruises. The plan was to rendezvous with Derek at an undisclosed location, but that didn't happen. I was instead met by a small team of heavily armed militia. They were reluctant to divulge information on their affiliation with Derek or his whereabouts. About two weeks went by and still no sign of my x-roommate/ author. Another small team of militia brought him into our location. He was shot multiple times and had lost a lot of blood. He was in shock and kept muttering something about aborting a mission. At that point I demanded to know what was going on. He was laid upon a metal utility table and a couple of the militia stood at either side and began tearing away his clothing and asking that specific medical tools be brought to the table. The man that headed the team who brought Derek in, sat me down and began filling me in on shocking details. Derek is not who he claimed he was. He was a sniper for the U.S. Marines and was involved in some kind of surveillance team. It was this U.S. government surveillance team that made him aware of my existence. He has knowledge of Classified details of my encounter with Tyben and the military unit at the airfield, where I last held my Riley. He knows much more of me than I was aware of and I know much less about him. His final mission for the military had been to pinpoint my location and disclose my location and resources, as well as details of my actions during his debriefing. The debriefing never happened. Derek tracked me to my location and simply never re-established contact to his commanding officer. He defected. Instead of releasing me to the military, he befriended me, gave me a place to stay and shielded me from any known U.S. trackers, Homeland Security, bounty hunters...why? I was then informed of the reason behind Derek's current medical condition. Since his defecting from the military, Derek had joined up with militia and other anti-military and anti-government groups. He had prompted a strike against the agents that pinned me down in Lewisville. He wanted to buy me some time at my current location, by letting the pursuing agents know that they would need backup, if they were to attempt another aggressive encounter. The man who informed me of this, patted my shoulder, stood up, walked to Derek and whispered something to him and walked into an adjacent room. I stood and walked to my room-mate and friend. He was still very pale, but had stopped muttering. He was no longer in shock. The two gentlemen standing by him, had dressed his wounds and given him something for pain. I felt betrayed and honored by him at the same time. I asked one of gentlemen of his prognosis. The man looked at me with a grimace and shook his head. I felt a lump in my throat. The gentlemen patted me on the back, one at a time. One of them grabbed Derek's hand in a gesture to comfort him, then they both left the room. Derek looked up at me with a smile and eyes glazed from a small dose of Morphine. "You look like shit.", he said in a scratchy condescending voice. I said the only word I could muster..."Why?" He began to explain to me that he had been in a bad place in his life, when the military had recruited him and made him a soldier. They gave him assurance and what he believed to be courage and a sense of self. He also said that during his time as a soldier, he had done many things to show his loyalty to the military. Things he regretted. He had begun to understand that the military didn't help him through a bad time, but rather took advantage of him during this low point. They had made him a weapon, but he had become a weapon without feeling, without remorse. He told me: "Nolen, I was one of the secondary team at the airstrip. I saw what happened there. I saw your face. It reminded me of myself, when I was going through the bad time, before I was recruited. The military had no agenda for me, but to make me a weapon. They had the same agenda for you. I couldn't let them do that to you. I made up my mind that I would head up the team to track you and I would lead them astray. When I found you, I would assist you in hiding. I would protect you. I would lead you to safety in an attempt at my own salvation." The word "salvation" was accompanied by a cough and a spatter of blood that fell across his cheek. His eyes closed and my keen sense of touch, could feel his body temperature falling. The thought of Riley running across the airstrip with me, crossed my mind. Adrenaline coursed through my veins. I thought of Charles. I leaned over his cooling carcass and pushed his head further to the side, in order to expose his Jugular. I licked my canines and sank them in quickly and deep. About thirty seconds after penetration, I felt his blood stir over the tips of my teeth. I felt a charge of energy rush through his veins. It was working. I stayed affixed on him longer still. After a few minutes, I felt his body temperature begin to climb rapidly. I saw his muscles tighten and the veins rise to the skin's surface. I could now taste his blood and the essence of his organs, along with traces of my own saliva. The exchange was more complete than any Vampire had ever known. I refused to relinquish and sank my teeth in deeper still. I few moments later, his eyes abruptly opened as the muscles in his appendages tightened in violent convulsions. I pulled away as Derek let out a shrill scream of pain that after a few seconds, became a lower pitched war cry. Everyone entered the room with astonished faces, as they saw color restoring to Derek's flesh and his blood dripping from my chin.