The Dark Messiah

by Michael Anderle

Kraven had fallen down the second set of stairs, but the fear level was decreasing the farther away he got.

  Then, the fear stopped and his eyes opened in surprise and his body straightened. He got himself up, ignoring the pain in his arms and legs and made his way to the next set of stairs down. He went down as quick as he could possibly go.

  —

  Michael shot two men in their heads as soon as he could find targets. The door was still in the process of slamming into a couple … or three… people who had been in front, throwing them back as the door rotated above them, slamming into and rebounding off the wall behind them.

  Michael’s arms opened, as he continued down the line on both sides, shooting the men in the head, and a couple in their chests when their heads were blocked.

  One he double tapped for having been smart enough to try and dodge behind another person.

  “You messed up my perfect score, jackass,” he murmured. and then, looked back and forth, nodded his head as he walked into the office behind them. He holstered his weapons as he got to the open window and looked down.

  A man was halfway to the ground, racing down, trying to reach the level beneath him as fast as possible.

  Disgusted with the cowardice, Michael stepped out and walked onto the fire escape. Jumping down the flight he landed with a BANG on the next turn around, the reverberation carried through the metal down to the bottom.

  BANG, one more floor down.

  Far below him, Kraven Cochrel looked up and his eyes opened wide…

  —

  Bang!

  Gerry’s head twitched.

  BANG!

  The bangs were getting louder, so he started watching outside, and noticed one person looking up, and then pointing.

  He looked around inside the building and decided that maybe the fun had moved outside.

  He left his little hiding place and walked back through the doors and kept his head down, not acting like he had any suspicion something was going on behind him until he was across the street from the building. Then, he turned around, looked up and smirked.

  Some guy had just shot a couple of rounds from an old M1911 at a figure that was rapidly descending. The person was wearing a black trench coat that flared out every time he jumped down a flight of steps.

  BANG! Hitting the next landing below.

  The lower man, who Gerry assumed was Kraven, turned and quickly, almost without worry for his own safety, started his own process of jumping down the next level. Recover and run to the next set of stairs to jump again. He was definitely going to make it to the sliding ladder before Michael.

  Then again, Gerry looked close at the figure. His eyes, not as sharp as they used to be but still good enough, yeah, that was Michael…but he had no hair?

  —

  Kraven, his breath reduced to erratic gasps, was finally at the slide down ladder. He stepped over the railing, and grabbed the ladder, his weight dropping him down rapidly. It hit with a CLANG on the sidewalk, people were watching, but staying out of his way.

  Two bullet shots fired from his guards on the walls, then two screams occurred and Kraven saw one blasted off the wall.

  Then, the stranger jumped the last three flights of stairs, to land on the ground right in front of him.

  —

  The first bullet from the guards on the wall hit just beside his face as he landed from the set of stairs he had just jumped down. The fragments from the wall peppering his skin.

  Michael’s eyes narrowed and he reached into his jacket. He had dialed down the destruction capability of the pistols. His hand had actually started hurting. Something John had mentioned in the instructions that came with the pistols. At the time he had smirked, thinking maybe John had been getting soft.

  Apparently not.

  He casually aimed and took out the two guards that had guns up, and found two more who had now turned to watch what was going on.

  He shot them both in the shoulders. They wouldn’t be shooting anything today.

  He looked down to see Kraven had made it down the sliding ladder. So, he grabbed the railing and jumped over it.

  —

  Gerry shook his head in wonder. The calm assurance of this Michael was apparent. But, he wasn’t fighting like Gerry thought he would have a couple of hundred years ago. He had followed the man down the steps instead of Mysting. He hadn’t killed all four of the guards on the wall. Two of those Michael had shot received definitely survivable wounds, provided they got medical help soon enough.

  —

  Kraven brought his pistol up, but the stranger merely swatted it out of his hand so fast he hadn’t seen the movement. Kraven had, however, felt his trigger finger break as the pistol left his hand, bouncing off the sidewalk and clattering down the street.

  “It seems,” the stranger said, his voice calm and deadly, “that you have not governed for the benefit of the people, Kraven.”

  “Who the URGHG,” Kraven grabbed the arm, which was holding him up in the air, his feet dangling, the hand clenched around his neck.

  “My name,” the stranger told him, as Kraven beat on his arm and then tried to kick him, “is irrelevant.”

  Across the street, Gerry heard the crack of Kraven’s neck before Michael tossed the now dead man off to the side. He snorted. By now, everyone realized that there was a new man in town, who had just personally decimated everyone he had come across.

  “Just like old times, eh, Michael?” Gerry spoke.

  The stranger turned quickly, his eyes sharp as he recognised Gerry. His nostrils flared and then he started walking towards him, looking across the street like he expected cars to be coming before turning back to Gerry.

  “What the hell,” Michael asked as he got closer, holding his hand out to shake Gerry’s, “happened to this world, Gerry?”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Gerry reached out to shake the vampire’s hand. Normally, back when he was the American Council’s Alpha, he had always let Nathan deal with vampires.

  Nathan had a way of keeping his head on his shoulders. The secret, Nathan explained, was keeping one's mouth shut and only answering questions.

  And being polite…very, very polite.

  “Ah,” Gerry looked around as he put his hand up to his mouth and coughed. “Love to answer your question but I don’t suppose we can go to a safer location to speak?”

  Michael looked around and then raised an eyebrow. It seemed the two toughs from earlier, and the three from the bar had come back, racing through the door.

  “You going to talk with them?” Gerry asked. Surprised that Michael hadn’t just killed them.

  He shrugged, “I’m tempted to ease my headache.”

  “You get headaches, now?” Gerry asked, surprised.

  “What?” Michael glanced in his direction before looking back towards the five men. One of those on the outskirts were talking with the lead guy, and pointing towards Michael. “No, figure of speech. In the older times, I would have just killed them. There was no thinking involved. No concern that they were someone's son or daughter.”

  “That sounds like Bethany Anne,” Gerry ventured.

  “That’s because it is.” Michael agreed before starting towards the five men, calling back over his shoulder, “but unfortunately for these five, she isn’t anywhere near here at the moment.”

  Gerry started walking to catch up to Michael.

  —

  Jimmie followed the five toughs, wondering what they were going to do. One of the members of Kraven’s group had run into the bar, and yelled that the fort was under attack before running back out. The five men left, quickly. Jimmie, thinking it had to be the stranger, tossed off his bar apron and told Juliana he was taking a break.

  Keeping his pace so that he stayed a block behind the five, he kept looking behind him.

  He had seen the pistols, all it would take would be one, or both, of those and he would be half the man the stranger was.

  And Juliana would be his.
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  —

  Michael walked towards the toughs.

  Yessss, these five were part of Kraven’s inner circle. They had dishonor flowing through their blood like silt in the Mississippi.

  “You stole my money!” Robert yelled at him.

  The man licked his lips before Michael continued, “I took it as punishment for your poor manners. I didn’t kill you, so I believe you received the better part of the bargain.”

  Michael stopped twenty feet from the five, “Apparently, you are going to make this easy for me.”

  “We aren’t making anything easy, shit head,” The lead guy, recognizing the one who had pushed him out of the way earlier reached for his shirt, “Looks like it’s going to be you and me, man-to…”

  Michael, sped up, reached into his jacket and pulled out his pistol, shooting the man in the chest, his body twisting in the air twice before he could finish the next word.

  “I despise showboating,” Michael spoke to the air as the other four men started grabbing for their own guns and trying to separate.

  Michael turned and shot, turned and shot…

  One…

  Two…

  Three…

  “Dammit!” He was annoyed, the fourth was able to get behind a small cinder block building. He started walking towards the building, focusing his hearing on whether the man was going to come out the left or the…

  “DOWN!” Gerry pushed Michael out of the way as another shot blasted.

  Michael, his eyes going red, twisted in the air like a cat that had been dropped. His pistol aimed backwards to find the bartender from the first bar, his eyes wide, standing in the gateway to the fortress. The man had both hands grasping a still smoking pistol.

  Michael shot him between the eyes.

  Michael landed, rolled backwards and came back up. Jumping backwards, he flew up in the air, his dive turned into a flip as he came over the top of the small building. He saw the final tough coming around the left side of the building.

  He shot him in the head, the small pellet driving through the top of his head, through his neck and cracking his pelvis bone. Not that his inability to walk any more was a problem.

  Michael finished his flip and landed on his feet, one hand down to help his balance, the other prepared for more attacks.

  He ran back around the small block building to find Gerry on the ground, holding his side, blood soaking his hands.

  “I never thought I would see the day,” Gerry grated out, between wheezing for breath, “That I would help you stay alive.”

  Michael pushed his senses out, making sure he wouldn’t be taken by surprise like he had been again. He ripped Gerry’s shirt off, “The slug is in there pretty good, and thank you,” he murmured as he grew long nails on his hands, “This might hurt a bit. I don’t think you want me to help you like I did the last time I helped someone.”

  “Yeah…” Gerry gritted his teeth as Michael’s nails pierced his skin and went deeper into his side, “About thaaaAAAAAAAT!” Gerry, his breath coming quick as Michael pulled the bullet out of his body and tossed it to the side. Then, Michael reached up and grew his fangs a touch, enough to use them to slice open his wrist.

  “What are you doing, Michael?” Gerry looked nervously as Michael moved his bleeding wrist over his wound, allowing the blood to drip onto around and on the wound. He licked his lips, “I thought we weren’t supposed to cross the streams here, ArchAngel.”

  “Dark Messiah,” Michael grated out as he started pushing Etheric Energy towards Gerry, hoping the Nanocytes would grab hold of the energy and use it instead of the energy from Gerry’s body. Otherwise, Gerry was going to die much more quickly.

  “Come again?” Gerry asked, a warming feeling going through his whole body, “What are you doing? I can feel energy everywhere.”

  “Pushing out what Energy I can, old wolf,” Michael told him. “The nanocytes need energy to help you physically. If this doesn’t take, you are going to die, quickly.”

  Gerry looked up at the Vampire, “Michael, I need you to help me one more time.”

  “Working on it, Gerry,” he replied, still trying to feel the nanocytes.

  “The girl you helped, the blind one?” he spoke softly

  “Yes?” Michael replied.

  “She’s my daughter, Michael.”

  Michael smiled, “Huh, didn’t realize that when I helped her.”

  Gerry grunted, “Would you have left her there?”

  “What?” Michael turned to face him, “No. I would have made sure she stayed with me. People who helped Bethany Anne are special, Gerry. Even their children.”

  The comment encouraged Gerry, “Well, I need to ask you a favor. I need to ask if you would go rescue her again, Michael?” Gerry reached up, holding Michael’s arm, “Please. I don’t want her left alone without protection again. I made that mistake once.”

  “Gerry,” Michael answered, “I’ll help you. But I’m not ready for a kid yet, it’s a big responsibility and … and…” Michael watched as the wound closed, the healing taking over, “Annnnddd, you are healed.”

  “What?” Gerry looked back at him, confused.

  Michael stood up, reaching down to grab Gerry’s hand and pull him up, “You are healed, Gerry.”

  Gerry looked down at his side, his skin, his younger looking skin, was in fact healed. It had a few black and blue marks, but … “Damn…” he rubbed it back and forth before turning towards Michael, “How?”

  Michael was searching the people, listening, feeling for problems.

  None… yet.

  He whispered, “My nanocytes have been modified. I’m basically AB negative now as a blood type, Gerry.” Michael told him.

  A young woman broke from the group watching the two men, “Sir?”

  Michael looked over at her raising his eyebrow, “Yes?”

  She pointed to Gerry, “Did you just heal him of a gunshot?”

  Michael looked at Gerry, who shrugged. He turned back towards the young woman, “Yes.”

  “Are you magical? An Angel?” She questioned.

  Michael looked at all of the people surrounding them and pursed his lips. He pushed Gerry towards the gate leading out of the fortress before speaking, “I’m not an Angel, far from it.” He pointed towards the building, “Angel’s aren’t known for that much killing. I didn’t come for peace, or prosperity. No, I came to deliver Justice for the iniquities of the men who were running this town, subjugating all of you under their thumb. Using the men, and women, willing to be his little army of thugs. The problem with those who would prey on the weaker, is.” He pointed to himself, “they eventually run into someone like me.”

  Michael turned and started walking towards the gate.

  “And who are you?” She cried out.

  Michael paused his walking and turned to look her in the eye.

  His voice, gentle, but firm answered her, “Young Tamara, some call me the Dark Messiah. What you choose to call me, is up to you.”