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Grim Reaper's Release

When the gruesome murder of a pastor is mysteriously caught on tape, what will happen to the vampire race? Suddenly, the world knows about vampires. The Cullens need to get out of Forks. And fast. But what will happen when the Volturi wants to interfere? Or the Southern Armies? And, more importantly, who are these strange vampire twins? Photobucket

...I've been away for a seriously long time, haven't I? O.O

Well, I'm back with a new story and I still haven't decided if I should continue my other stories. A lot's been happening in my life and I'm sure my feelings on all of my other stories have changed drastically. Anyway, this is just an idea that's been floating around my head for probably a year now but I've never really developed it into more than just a smidge of an idea.

Just a few warnings before I continue: This story is seriously...morbid. It's not really a good story at all. There's violence, world domination, chaos, and the world kind of goes insane...but it has a happy ending! Promise!

Also, the chapters are gonna be really long on this. Like, seriously long. It's not that I want to get this done in less chapters or whatever, it's just that in each chapter, a few different character's point of view's on different things need to be included to add other factors of the story. I mean, if I had each new point of view a chapter, we'd probably be up to 50 chapters by the time I get to the middle.

That being said, I guess a few things you should know is that I don't know when I'll be getting new chapters up. I hope, with winter break here, I'll have this story done by the middle of February, maybe? I was planning on having this only 7 chapters at the maximum, but the farther I get into this story, the longer it seems. And, I hope, I'll be getting each chapter up each week. I've already written chapter 2 and 3 but I'm gonna post them weekly.

Next, I seriously need to thank my best mate Kira with this story. She gave me a HUGE idea for it and has been such an amazing supporter of all my stories from the start!

*breathes in relief* Alright, I think that's all for now. Now that I've gotten it all out, go read. I'm sure the story is much more interesting than my babbling. *snort*

20. Executioner's Trick

Rating 3.2/5   Word Count 9237   Review this Chapter

Brody's Point of View

A shuddering breath escaped my lips as I clutched the dish towel tightly around my arm. Honestly, I had no clue that it would bleed this much. Over the years, I had been fortunate enough to dodge any serious injuries and with my increasing phobia of blood, I had absolutely no experience with wounds. Leaning against the counter, I watched with wide eyes as the once white towel turned to a flaming crimson.

My eyes glanced at the clock; fifteen minutes since she had walked through that door. Where was she now? If she had been caught, there was no doubt in my mind that I would be hearing about it. I nibbled my bottom lip in worry, had she been reunited with her father?

The door banged open and I jumped at the sound of it. Dr. Mitchells walked in, a bounce in his step that hadn't been there before. His head turned for a few moments, looking for me, but then his beady eyes narrowed onto me through the test tubes and chemicals and vials of the lab.

"There you are! I was looking for you. These vampires," he huffed dramatically, shaking his head back and forth, "are simply amazing. I've never seen anything like it before. Jasper, as you know, completely devoured his prisoner! Rosalie, on the other hand, was perfectly fine." He chattered away non-stop as he walked around the lab, giddy and prodding at the files. I grunted tightly as I tried to shield my bloody arm from view.

He came closer, his arms spread wide, as if he was in disbelief as to what he had seen with the vampires. "But I'm thinking, just wondering, really, if maybe it's subconscious? Maybe Jasper wanted to kill that man and maybe Rosalie didn't want to. But who knows? Carlisle says they're responses to blood are based on control but what if he's lying? I would expect it, actually, if he were to shield the secrets of his species from us. That's why we're testing him next, which I simply can't wait for! The do-good doctor put up against a bleeding criminal! It'll be a-" He abruptly stopped and I looked up from my arm, searching for where he was now.

He stood about five feet away, his eyes wide. "What have you done there?" He gestured towards my arm and I gulped uneasily as my other hand fidgeted with the towel. He rushed forward and tried to peel the saturated towel from my aching flesh.

I groaned as he tore it off and gasped at the size of the gashing whole in my arm. Alright, I admit it, I definitely could have made the cut smaller. And not so deep.

"I...uh...boss, I need to tell you something." He looked up from over my arm, his forehead crinkling in impatience. I bit my lip, was I sure he needed to know now? Probably, but I had wanted to be able to wait until I was sure that Renesmee was with at least someone in her family. I had yet to get that reassurance.

He pulled at my arm and led it over to the sink. After yanking on the faucet, he roughly pushed my arm under the pouring icy cold water and I yelped softly as it froze the flesh over my injured arm. "What is it, Brody? Who did this? Surely, you did not." I tried not to flinch at his words, knowing that I had indeed been the one to cut my arm open.

Instead of the truth, I opened my mouth to tell him the lie. "Renesmee escaped. I swear, I tried to stop her, but she...she...well, you can see." I pointed down to my throbbing arm with a grimace settling on my lips. Dr. Mitchells' mouth popped open and he glanced wildly to the steel door which had enclosed Renesmee in her captivity.

I waited for his response, ignoring the pin pricks in my skin and the tingling sensation crawling up my wounded arm, as I studied his face for reaction. He finally snapped his jaw closed and turned to me.

"You let her escape?" His outraged voice resounded around the lab and I cringed, though he was at least half a foot shorter than me.

"It's not like I wanted her to get out!" I lied easily, defending myself. "She pushed open the steel door and by the time I noticed, she was halfway to the door. Dr. Mitchells, I promise you, I tried to get her but she drove that knife," I jerked my chin towards the bloody weapon on the counter, "into my arm. By the time I looked up, she was gone."

His gray eyes narrowed at me, showing that he didn't trust me. "And you didn't think to go get her? Or at least tell someone? Brody, how could you be so stupid?"

I bit back a sharp remark and shook my head. "I...I don't-" The loud shrill ring of a phone interrupted me and I looked around for the noisy thing. Dr. Mitchells grumbled under his breath and at the same time, our eyes landed on the sleek black phone hanging on the wall, opposite of us. I went forward to get it, but his arm came up across my chest.

"Let me answer," he snapped, his lips turning down. I sighed and turned back to the sink. My arm was numb from the frigid water and I hastily turned the faucet down while reaching for a clean towel to wrap around my arm. Across the room I could hear hushed words and murmurings. My curiosity peaked as I wondered who it was. Were they talking about Renesmee?

Eventually, he hung up and set the phone back on its hook. I kept my back to him, tying the towel around my arm to stop the bleeding. Dr. Mitchells didn't have the materials to stitch me up and I pursed my lips as I remembered there was one doctor in the building who I knew wouldn't mind helping me. Carlisle Cullen.

I heard Dr. Mitchells' footsteps come closer, cautiously, and I turned my head to look over my shoulder. "Who was it?" I jerked the faucet back on and washed my hands under the warm water. Pink water flowed from my hands and I looked away from the cherry colored bubbles that leaked from my flesh.

"Fitzgerald," he grunted. I nodded, my eyes squinting in thought as I looked straight forward. I wrung my hands to dry them as I pulled them out from the sink and with a paper towel in hand, turned the faucet back off.

I turned back to Dr. Mitchells, about to ask him what he wanted, but he caught me off. "He wants you in his office in five minutes." I recoiled, my eyes blinking and my muscles tightening. He wanted me in his office? I gulped, I suppose that would be expectant. I did allow Renesmee to get out. It was actually no surprise that Fitzgerald would want me up there.

I shrugged, my injured arm falling at my side, and threw the damp paper towel out. "Alright, I'll go now." Dr. Mitchells' eyes widened and he opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something.

"Do you maybe want me to stitch that up before you go?" He bit his lip and I shook my head.

"Nah, Doc, the stuff you need probably isn't down here, anyway. You can do it when I get back, if you want to." I gently shook the lab coat off, careful of my arm, and used my good hand to fold it over the back of a nearby stool.

Dr. Mitchells watched me with slightly narrowed eyes, his lips forming a tight line of worry on his face as I walked towards the door. I halfway turned back to him, my face a slight mask of sadness. "Look, Doc, I really am sorry she got out. I tried to keep her here, really."

He nodded, the bitterness erasing from his face and it was replaced with something else. Pity? I couldn't tell.

"I know, Brody, I know. I'm sorry, too." His voice was softer, probably kinder than I had ever heard it before. I paused, my hand on the doorknob, as I felt the need to ask him exactly why he was so sorry. I never did, though. I just opened the door and walked out.

Outside of the laboratory, it was much easier to think. I took a breath to clear my mind and took a quick look around my surroundings. Being one of Dr. Mitchells' top workers, I was supposed to stay at the location I was placed in and not wander. I blinked, realizing this was the first time I had been outside the lab since I got here. Inside the lab was a small room used for 24/7 scientists with a few cots, refrigerator, and other necessities. I had been virtually living out of a suitcase since I got here from my distant hometown in Connecticut.

The walls outside were a pale green, something that reminded me of spring leaves. I supposed they were meant to be calming, but they did nothing to relieve my nerves as I walked down the dreadfully long hallway towards the elevator. I was sure that Fitzgerald's office was a floor below this one.

I reached the elevator, struggling not to break into a sweat and I hastily rubbed my moist palms on my pants. Calm down, I told myself, he probably just wants a more detailed report. As a kid, I was always pretty creative. I knew I would be able to make up some sort of a believable story to cover up the lie on the spot with Fitzgerald.

Inside, I pushed the button for the 24th floor and leaned against the wall, trying to flatten my ruffled shirt and fix my most likely messy hair. Seeing the top boss was never something I enjoyed and though I worked for Dr. Mitchells, most of the time he sent the cases up to me from his home in Florida. Fitzgerald was not a man I knew well and I had only seen him once in passing. All I knew was that he was in charge of this whole operation and was good friends with Dr. Mitchells.

The annoying ding of the elevator signaled the opening of the metal doors and I took a deep breath. It was probably best to just get this over with. I stepped out from the elevator and walked down the hall spread out before me, looking at the name plates of each door that lined it. I frowned; the overall office appearance of the building astounded me. I knew that stories below, there were cells upon cells, execution rooms, frightening laboratories, and all the other horrors. Upstairs, though, it was just offices and vending machines.

At the end was a glass paneled door with blinds on the inside. Recently added golden lettering read "Timothy Fitzgerald" and I sighed. My good fist lifted up to knock on the door but before my knuckles could connect with the glass, it opened.

I stared almost openly at the squat man before me, at his round face which was blushing from either anger or humiliation. For some reason, I had a feeling it was neither. He seemed like the type of person whose face would always be this tone. Tiny wrinkles lined his taut lips and eyes which made him look older than he probably was. He was much shorter than me, probably standing at about 5'8'' and his graying blondish hair was thinning out upon his face.

He reached up with a thick hand to push his spectacles up and I remembered my manners and looked away. "Erm, you wanted to see me, Mr. Fitzgerald?"

He humphed and took a step back, his sharp blue eyes gliding over me in a curious manner. I squirmed in discomfort looked over his shoulder into the office. The walls were a pasty ivory color and few decorations had been placed around the room. A large desk was in front of the window with only one or two personal objects flung atop the surface. Papers were scattered with a crooked desk lamp on the corner.

"You're Brody Averton?" His reply yanked back my attention and I gazed back, hoping I had not been caught in my staring. I nodded, quirking an eyebrow at his uncertainty.

He pursed his lips and moved aside, out of the doorway, to what I guessed was a welcome. I stole a glance at him as I hesitantly took a step inside. He gave an impatient gurgle and I walked in, not liking the edgy look he had.

"Sit on down, Brody, we need to talk." I gulped and nodded, reminding myself that I had expected all of this. He sat down at his desk and the chair squeaked loudly as he made an attempt to push it away from the desk. I sat down at the wooden chair opposite him and folded my hands in my lap.

"What did you need, Mr. Fitzgerald?" I feigned curiosity and the man before me smirked. He leaned forward, his forearms resting on the desktop.

His eyes sparkled and not in a good way. It made my stomach uneasy. "I know what you did, Brody," he said, his voice almost tender.

I froze. My heart sped up, its beating reminding me of a popcorn bag placed in a microwave. I swallowed in anxiety and cocked my head to the side. Act innocent, my instincts told me. But how? I had never been a trouble maker, never someone who had to lie. I didn't know the rules of covering up a secret.

I took a moment to once again wipe my hands on my thighs as I licked my lips. "What do you mean?"

He laughed boisterously, his eyes going wide as his mouth gaped open. I wrinkled my nose, agitated that he found humor in such a situation. I was sweating bullets over here, worrying that he actually did know of what I had done, and he didn't even have the decency to keep a straight face.

"What do I mean?" He annoyingly repeated the question and I nodded eagerly. A little chuckle left him once more as he shook his head, as if the idea that I didn't understand was incomprehensible to him. "I mean that I saw what you did. Little Renesmee got out, you turned to see her, and then you let her go after slicing open your own arm so it seemed as if you had put up a fight. Brody, I may be old, but never underestimate my knowledge of what goes on in my operation."

I stared in blank shock and, yes, even some confusion. How did he know all of this? A trembling breath shook my lips and I leaned back in the chair, my shoulders slumping. Something in me told me to tell him he lied, that I would never do that, but I couldn't. In the eyes of the government, I had turned my back on them. I needed to own up to it.

I reached up to cradle my head, astounded that now I would surely be given some sort of punishment. I could deal with being fired, I suppose. It wasn't like I was horrible at the field I was in. With numerous degrees from numerous schools, I was most likely the best. I didn't have to work for Dr. Mitchells, I rationalized. There were other openings.

But before I completely surrendered, I needed to know something. "How?" I asked. "How did you figure it out?"

Fitzgerald gave me a sympathetic smile, a slow upturning of the lips. The expression looked out of place on his face, as if he had never smiled before and the muscles weren't use to the strain. "There was a security camera in the lab. There's one in every single room in this building, in fact. Even the so called ‘private headquarters' where you sleep every night. There is not one unwatched room."

I groaned into my hand. I had even checked for cameras. I had thought there were none. I had thought I was safe.

"So now what? You fire me?" I lifted my head, my eyelids drooping from sudden exhaustion. The situation was starting to look...beneficial, actually. No more long tiresome hours of being in the lab here, no more crazy vampires to deal with or their children. I could go home to Connecticut, to my homey apartment and prized Corvette.

Fitzgerald gave me a shocked look and blinked. "Fire you?" He chuckled. "Oh no, Brody. There will be no firing of anyone today." I felt my face freeze into surprise as I gawked at him.

It seemed almost too good to be true and I pushed the tiny bit of disappointment aside. I tried to convince myself that it was better to work for them and go along with this operation then be sent back to Connecticut jobless.

My face lit up in a smile. "Am I free to go, then?"

Fitzgerald's eyes widened and he looked at me like I had grown a third head. He stood up, pushing down his tweed jacket, and shook his head slowly. "Brody, I am afraid you don't understand. Normally, we would most certainly fire you. In fact, what you did was unredeemable. You went against us, Brody, and helped the enemy. Now I have what are supposed to be fearless agents shaking in their boots below because one Daddy Vampire doesn't want to give up his daughter. We wanted them separated for a reason, Brody. She could be an asset, an advantage, a-"

"She's a child!" I exclaimed, outraged by his conclusions. "She's nothing but his daughter! Can't you understand why he would want her back? She's weaker than they are, Fitzgerald, she means nothing to them when it comes to strategy. She's family." I glared at him in infuriation. Was he so stupid that he couldn't even see the family ties of the Cullens? Sure, it had taken me a moment to get used to the idea myself but he...he studied them. He knew them better than I did and he had never even seen the strong emotions between them.

He stared at me, his face devoid of any emotion except maybe extreme annoyance. "You don't understand, do you, Brody? Your time with her has tamed all hatred of that cursed species. They are not human. They do not feel like us or love like us. They're just...imitations of us. Bloodsucking imitations."

I gaped at his supreme coldness and eventually huffed in frustration. There was no use in trying to persuade him. I could see how strongly he felt by the way his fingers trembled in anger and how he took short, shallow breaths.

"This is why we must do what we do," he mumbled quietly. "You are on their side now, whether you realize it or not. Security cameras or not, we can't risk the idea of an inside man helping them. This is why we must not only fire you but we must also...," he paused, looking at me with a strange mix of sadness and determination. "We're going to have to kill you."

I jerked, my legs moving before I knew I had thought of the idea of standing. "What?" I shouted sharply. "Kill me? You want to kill me? Why the hell are you going to do that? Helping a child, a child, does not, in any rule book that I know of, deserve the death penalty!"

He scrutinized my expression and then the corner of his lip twitched, as if he was battling off a smile. "I'm sorry, Brody, but we can't risk it. If we fired you, you could go and tell the world of everything we've learned here. Everything you know, you could spread to the world. This experiment is supposed to be under wraps. Any learned details are not being shared with the world until the President's say. The only way to make sure you're silent is to-"

"To keep me here. You don't have to kill me. Just keep me here. I can't do much if you just put me in a room and tell me to stay," I muttered. They couldn't just kill me, could they? It had to be against some sort of rule, some sort of right.

He ground his teeth as if he had said this a thousand times and I still didn't understand. "You could help the Cullens escape. You've done it once, you could do it again."

I stared at him in shock. "I won't," I blabbered. "Promise, I won't help."

He started laughing as if it was the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard. "Brody, it's not exactly you're word that we're trusting right now. Like it or not, once Carlisle's testing has finished, you're going to be put in Jasper's cell and he's going to kill you. It actually works out quite well, don't you think? You'll be dying in the name of science. Plus, most of the scientists wanted a second look at the maneuvers of their killing. Last time, he moved so fast, no one could see him." He chuckled as if the plan made complete sense, as if he took pleasure from the idea of giving me to Jasper like a piece of bleeding fish to a shark.

"You're insane," I blurted, "and this has to be against some law. Has the President approved of this? I'm sure he hasn't." I felt my fists tighten at my side and something dribbled down my arm. I glanced down and became alarmed at the line of crimson escaping from under the towel.

His eyes followed my glance and he sneered. "Actually, the President came up with it. You have to understand, you're just one life. One life is nothing compared to the population of the United States, which could be endangered if these monstrosities got loose." He gingerly reached out to touch my arm. "And this just makes it much better. You already have an open wound for Jasper to smell. Excellent."

I yanked my arm back, out from his enclosing hand. "He'll never harm me. He's perfectly in control." I didn't fully believe the words, but I was grasping at straws. If I really was to die in the next hour, I was sure God wouldn't mind a few white lies.

"You think so? Ha, I beg to differ. The man is a beast; he has no self control over himself or his actions. In fact, the scientists watching over him seem to think he's losing his mind down there. They're sure he's succumbing to insanity." I flinched at Fitzgerald's words and he smiled at my reaction. The way he described him...he sounded like a feral wolf. Vicious and bloodthirsty.

No. More like feral rabid wolf. That explained the lack of sanity.

Just then, Fitzgerald reached into a cabinet and fished out a pair of handcuffs. I watched in awed horror as he walked closer, caution clearly written over his face. "Just let me get these on. I need to get down there for Carlisle's testing and you must stay here. When it's done, I'll be back for you. You'll be taken down to Jasper then."

I gulped, feeling the world tumble down slowly behind me. As he approached and roughly locked the cuff around my good wrist, I could only think of Connecticut. My friends and family, my apartment, my car, even my dog. I would never see these things again. Would they ever find out what happened to me? Probably not. The government would never let such cruelty be known to the public. They'd cover it up with saying it was an accident.

I felt tears well up in my eyes and the notion caught me off guard.

Fitzgerald gave a satisfied nod as he locked the other cuff around the chair leg and then turned away. "Expect me back within thirty minutes. You have until then to do whatever you think you need to." I gulped, watching him close the door behind him.

I had thirty minutes. Thirty minutes until I died.

I sat there, still in a bit of shock, as I realized I had practically given my life so a child I hardly knew could be reunited with her parents. I gulped, ignoring the tightening of my throat. This would go down in history, I suddenly decided. This whole affair of vampires and whatnot. It would be just like the wars of our past, the discoveries and inventions. The world was changing before my eyes and I didn't know how everyone would come out from it. Would the Cullens ever get out of their cells? Would they see the light of day or the world around them? Or would they ever be held within the cells, never aging, never tiring, and never dying forever?

The thought that they would be forever kept here, flawless and beautifully young chilled me. With years passing and technology improving, would the government someday be able to hurt them physically? To kill them? My face twitched in disgust as the idea of this building becoming infamous as the vampire warehouse, of tortures and slaughter and storing of the immortals of this world.

This new concept stirred up images I wished I could restrain. Ghostly grimy faces peeking out from the small panes of glass within the cell doors. Moving pale forms twisting and turning in the night, seeking out escape. Precious little Renesmee, forever childish and in her father's arms for all eternity.

Or would they get out? Would my single action benefit anyone else besides Renesmee? Would they escape into the world around them, dodging the government's secretive eyes?

I sighed, I would never know. If the first came true, though, I at least had the solace that Renesmee would not be forgotten in her little toy pen. No, she would be with her family.

And that thought alone made everything a bit more bearable.


Prisoner's Point of View

"I'm next, aren't I?" I groaned as some asshole nudged me along down the hallway stretching out before me. There had been one killed so far and one kept alive from these stupid tests. I was the tiebreaker, I supposed, and didn't like one bit of it.

The officer grunted and I shook my head. Ridiculous. All I could hope for was that I got a vamp like Jimmy had gotten. After his testing, he was led back into the waiting room of all us criminals and looked like he had seen the face of God. "I wanna go back in that cell," he had pled with the officers. "She loves me, I know it! Gimme a chance to win her over, man!"

Afterwards, he had gone into a full account of his encounter with the blonde beauty. I rolled my eyes, lucky bastard.

They stopped me outside of a cell door and I leaned against the concrete wall, awaiting my fate. Well, if I did die, at least I had no regrets. It sure had been an adventure, I decided. Illegal drugs, illegal racing, illegal gambling. Even a few beatings. There was nothing I had been denied on the streets of New York City, no drugs or clubs or money. It had all been mine and I had been like a celebrity to the thugs and dealers there.

No, definitely not any regrets.

I stiffened as the officer rolled up my sleeve and some thickset guy jogged up to me, huffing and puffing. I immediately recognized him as that Timothy Fitzgerald guy and glowered at him. If it weren't for him, I wouldn't be in this damn mess.

He mumbled something about being sorry he was late and then dug out a knife from his pocket. I watched him with narrowed eyes as he came closer.

"You gotta be jokin'. You are so not stickin' that in me, man." I backed up, raising my hands. This wasn't part of the deal. I thought they just threw us in the cell and the vampire did their thing. No blood or knives or cutting. No way.

Fitzgerald gave me an incensed look and yanked my arm up. Before I could snatch it back and yell at him about freakin' personal space, he stabbed the sharp knife into my arm. I screamed out, surprised at the strength of the old man. Yeah, I had taken knife wounds before, and even a few bullets, but none had been so roughly done.

He drew it back out, a pleased look crossing over his features and I gulped. My arm was gushing out blood all over the place and he had no intention of helping me. Actually, he was going to do quite the opposite.

"Alright," he huffed, "in you go." I turned to stare at him but then an officer came up from behind and brusquely shoved me into the open doorway of the cell. Once inside, I turned around to run back out before they could close the door, but it was too late.

I stared at the steel door in agony, pretending like there wasn't some bloodthirsty vampire behind me, somewhere in that eerie silence. Sure, I told myself sarcastically, you're just at Grandma Doris's place for some Thanksgiving dinner. Mmhmm, just tell yourself that. There ain't no monster behind me. I gulped, my hands twisting into fists at my side.

I had to turn around. There was an itching curiosity to turn around that I couldn't deny. A need to see what these things looked like, a need to see the fangs and swirling black capes. I tentatively turned, half of me reluctant and the other half eager to see these things.

Whatever I had expected, though, it wasn't quite like this. There was just a creepy ass white dude just sitting there staring at me. I felt my eyebrows furrow in confusion. Wasn't this supposed to go differently? Like...him eating me instead of just sitting there, all calm and relaxed?

He was white. Like, seriously white. Not the pale guy who lives never leaves his house type of white. This was like white. It reminded me of snow, he was so goddamn white. And not only was he pale, his flesh looked like marble. There were no distinguishable traits on his face except for purplish bruises under his eyes. They reminded me of my own face after I got out of the last bar fight with a black eye. No freckles or scars or blemishes. It was like someone took a piece of paper and wrapped it around his face until it smoothed out over his features.

Besides his freaky skin, he looked...perfect. I drew up enough dignity as a fully straight man to at least admit he looked good. His features were angled, sharp and defined against his face. Even though his expression was warm and kind, the coldness of his face made me want to shiver. Not a broad face, I decided. There was no strong jawbone or wide nose. It was a long, thin face with a sort of iciness coating it. A pair of glowing amber eyes was hooded under his long - I could even tell they were long from this distance - blonde eyelashes and they seemed to penetrate me. They weren't mean eyes. No. But they weren't happy, either. They were kind of sad, droopy and tired, which would have made sense because of the bags under his eyes.

His hair was like gleaming gold. Not pale blonde exactly, but not the normal blonde you saw on women these days who spent hours dying it to a beachy tone. It wasn't even the common ‘dirty blonde'. It was a shade up from the whitish blonde you saw occasionally. It was just a dazzling blonde. Kind of like it was caught between the fair blonde and the dark gold. It was a bit unruly, curling around his ears and face, and combed back until it fell at the nape his neck. It was thick, too, and not a strand out of place.

He was young. Younger than even me.

His odd topaz eyes zoomed in on my bleeding arm and I followed his gaze, towards the leaking blood. For the first time since I walked into the room, I felt a whole lot of freaking pain in my arm. It was a tingling sensation as I lost more blood.

The man - vampire, I corrected myself - stood up from his calm position on the cot and gradually walked towards me. I looked up at him with narrowed eyes. If he thought he was going to just coolly strut up to me and then take my life, he thought wrong.

He turned his palms up as if in surrender and stopped. "I'm a doctor," he told my hurriedly, his voice a deep mixture of unexpected tranquility and softness. There was also some sort of subtle accent there, though I couldn't place it. "Let me help you."

My jaw dropped at his words. The vampire wanted to help me with my wounds? My head spunin confusion at his words. I stared dumbfounded at him and then nodded. "Sure, man," I grunted, handing my arm out to him. "Do whatever the hell you want to." And I meant that literally. If he wanted a little snack, fine. The hell with it, I could tell I was no match for him anyway.

He came closer and delicately prodded at the wound. I bit back a scream and he looked up at me apologetically.

"Alright, I'm going to try to stop the bleeding." He looked down at his navy dress shirt and gave a sort of careless shrug. He reached down to the end and yanked a large strip of the shirt off. I watched in quiet amazement as it tore. Man, not even I could do that and I was as strong as a bull.

He tied the strip of cotton around the wound tightly, tying it into a knot on the inside of my arm. His fingertips lightly touched me and I shivered; damn, he was cold. "Unfortunately," he mumbled, as he tightened the knot, "I can't do much more." He sighed and looked around the room as if in thought. He looked back at me and a corner of his lips turned up in a crooked smile. "They don't allow their captives much material."

I knew my face was a frozen mask of shock, but I didn't really give a shit. I stared at the vampire doctor before me with eyes as wide as saucers. "Yeah, I gotchya. In the slammer, they didn't give us anything, man, ‘cept these fugly orange suits."

His eyes widened a bit in a polite sort of way before he blinked and a look of amusement came over his face. "Sounds like the situation we're in," he laughed quietly. I nodded, unsure of what situation they exactly were in.

"Thanks, though, for the...eh," I gestured towards the battered arm and attempted a smile. He looked up, his eyebrows high on his marble forehead, and then smiled. He gave another shrug and waved his hand through the air.

"It was no problem. It looked like you needed some assistance anyway." He chuckled again, almost inaudibly, and leaned lightly against the cell wall. For the first time since entering, I looked around the cell in curiosity. It was pure white except for the sporadic crimson drops that littered the floor from my arm. There was a cot with ruffled blankets on top and a metal desk with chair. A swiveling light hung overhead, its bulb flickering precariously.

He must have followed my gaze ‘cause he sighed. "That's been doing that ever since I arrived here."

I looked up at him and frowned. "Why yous in here, anyway? Man, you definitely don't look like the type to be in trouble with the government." Except for him being an alleged vampire, I didn't really know anything else. It's not like we get a weekly update on the world news every day in jail.

He gave a light grin. "Oh, I'm sure you probably know already." He gestured towards himself, his face looking as if he had said this a million times already. "Vampire."

I shook my head in disagreement. "Nah, man, I mean whatchya done?"

His eyebrows once again lifted and he gave me a look of uncertainty. "I'm not quite sure what you mean. They're keeping my family and I here because we're vampires. I suppose, what I've done, is simply being what I am." He suddenly looked deep in thought and I thought about what he had said.

That didn't make no sense.

You couldn't help what you where. You could do something about your actions but not what you are. They don't keep you locked up because you're male or female or a certain race. And even if he wasn't a vampire by birth, he probably couldn't have done anything about it at the time he was turned into one.

"That's stupid," I mumbled, pursing my lips. He smirked a bit and nodded.

"And that's two of us who think so." He folded his hands before him and looked up at the ceiling as if in wonder.

You know, he wasn't too bad of a guy. Sure, at first look he was spooky as hell but after that, he was pretty cool. "What's your name, anyway?" I asked, studying his still composure from across the room. His eyes snapped back to me and they squinted the slightest.

"Carlisle," he said simply. Old name, I thought. "And yours?"

I was about to answer, but the door to the cell suddenly burst open and an unexpected arm reached out and grabbed onto my forearm. Before I knew it, the officer had dragged me from the cell and I was standing in the hallway, confused as hell as to how I had gotten there.

Timothy Fitzgerald stood before me, arms crossed and chest puffed (or maybe he was just naturally that big) with a miffed look on his face. "Go," he snapped, and pointed behind him to where a skinny white dude stood in a white lab coat. "He'll stitch the wound back up."

I gawked at him for a second but then shook my head. "No, man, I gotta talk to you first. What the fuck is this?"

Timothy's eyes widened magnificently and he stuttered his reply. "What...what do you mean?"

I rolled my eyes and gave him a disgusted look. "This whole operation. Why you got him and his family locked up in freaking cells?" I waved back to the cell behind me, where Carlisle was contained. Timothy gave me an exasperated look and ground his teeth.

"Because they're monsters," he said, as if that made all the sense in the world.

"What are you talking about? The guy's a doctor." I shrugged the grasping hand of the officer off my shoulder and turned to face Timothy. I hadn't ever done much good in my life, but I was kinda determined to do something right in this place.

Timothy turned away from me, his eyes closed shut as if he could erase my presence by putting me out of sight. "Take him away. He's doing nothing but being annoying." I glared at him, outraged, as the officer began to drag me off to the doctor down the hall.

I promised myself right then and there that somehow, I would help Carlisle's family.


Jasper's Point of View

I was waiting. Patiently waiting. I had a plan, that I was sure of, but I wasn't positive at how to put it in motion. I was just waiting for a signal, some sort of sign. I didn't know what that sign would be or how I would know what it was, I just knew that once it occurred, everything would be set into action. Call it a sort of sixth sense, if you will.

I had long forgotten the dead decaying body of my victim along with the scientists who watched my every movement in the room next to mine. They had been in there for hours now, ever since I committed my sins, and jotted down notes keenly. I was just an experiment to them, something to record behavioral patterns about.

Instead of on the floor in the fetal position, I was lying on the cot that I had told myself I would never even touch. Positioned on my back, I was gazing upwards with my arms folded underneath my head. I could hear Emmett above me, whistling to himself and waiting for my mental recovery. His emotions told me he was lonely and bickering with Esme about Jacob's welfare wasn't as entertaining as he wished it would be. He didn't find Esme as fun to fight with as myself, which was obvious. Esme couldn't argue with someone if her life depended on it.

Below me, Rosalie was humming a tune as she studied her already flawless nails. I rolled my eyes, settling back into the peaceful wait of what was to come. Until that moment, the moment I would know that I had to snap into action, I was content to try to be with my Alice.

I couldn't feel too many emotions from her through the levels of the building. She was desperate, that much I knew, and feeling a bit hopeless. I sighed, wishing I could reassure her that I was fine.

But I couldn't. Not yet. I wouldn't see her before my sins had been atoned for. Not until she could look at me and see her lover, not a red eyed monster.

Not knowing when this would be was torture. I didn't know how long it would take before I had done my good deed, redeemed myself. I would have to leave her, though, this I knew. I would have to leave my whole family and yes, I would have to kill.

This killing, though, didn't frighten me in the least. I wouldn't feel guilt or anguish when I would eventually take the lives that I planned to steal. And I wouldn't drink their blood. I was sure I could liberate myself from this immense guilt without taking more human blood into me. In all honesty, I was actually quite excited to get going. To start this mission of mine and to finish for I knew the finish line held my Alice.

I smiled, my Alice would be proud of me. I knew she would. I was even proud of myself for coming up with such a brilliant idea. Really, it was ingenious. I could imagine her so perfectly when I would return home to her. Her face would be flushed ever so slightly with pride for me. It would very possibly be a first. Her glistening topaz eyes would seek out my own topaz eyes and she would expect ruby, to tell of my sins, but wouldn't find one trace of the crimson color in my irises. With an upturned face, she would smile at me one of those dazzling, beaming smiles that only I ever received and then, all the while when I was resisting the urge to crush her to me, she would gently place her lips on mine and-

"Jasper?" I snapped back to the present and glanced down. Rosalie's voice was soft, something I rarely heard, and almost gentle. My lips turned down and I dropped my arm to the side, letting it hang over the side of the cot.

I glanced to the wall, talking back to her would be tricky. The scientists had eyesight like a hawk but, thankfully, my lips could move faster than anything their eyes would witness. "Yes, Rosalie?"

She sighed, a deep breath of relief. "Look, Edward wants to tell you something." I nodded in interest. I had forgotten about Edward's recent triumphs as I was pulled into my own victories. He had got back his Renesmee and he wouldn't be letting her go any time from now. I had been so distracted with my own schemes, I had scarcely noticed when bursts of happiness and love reverberated up to me.

"What is it?" I mumbled, my eyes glancing to the wall opposite me. I was sure they already thought I was insane; it really made no difference to add in what they thought would be talking to myself into the mix.

She paused and I could momentarily hear the voice of Edward, murmuring something to her over Renesmee's pleas that I not hurt him. Hurt who, though? Their words baffled me and I settled back down into the uncomfortable mattress, my eyes drifting shut as I sunk back into dreams of my Alice.

"He says they're going to use you to execute someone. They're going to do just what they did with the prisoners. It's almost like a second round of testing for you." Her voice had a tone of almost fear and my eyes snapped open.

I swallowed back the venom that pooled into my mouth at the thought of it. No, I sternly told the more animalistic side of me, I won't kill like that again. "Does he say anything else?" I croaked.

"He says this is...the sign you've been waiting for?" She sounded uncertain, like she had heard Edward wrong. But in my heart, I knew she was right. I sat upright and smiled, a rush of determination suddenly flowing through my veins.

I laughed; a deep, almost insane laugh. It probably sounded like the sort of laugh evil scientists gave in cartoons. I didn't care, though. This moment was too rich to pass up. And maybe I really was insane, maybe I was starting to lose every shred of humanity and sanity I had held onto over the decades. So what, though? As long as I did some sort of good in the end.

"Thank you, Rosalie," I called out, momentarily forgetting to keep my voice down. I chuckled to myself as the scientists scribbled even more furiously on the other side of the wall. I couldn't bring myself to feel bad about talking loud enough for them to hear. I felt too fervent to begin to feel anything else.

I stood up from the cot and walked around the room in a loose circle. I needed to get out. I glanced back at the dead body, lying limply in front of the steel door. I would have to step over him to escape. I bit my lip at this sudden revelation. It seemed almost dishonorable to do so, to disregard him so as if he was trash.

A curious sort of giddiness settled through my limbs and I felt almost untouchable, like nothing could hurt or scar me. With this newfound strength within me, I walked towards the body and tried to bite back the groan that rose in my throat. I knelt down, ignoring the open face of the man, and gently wrapped my arms around his waist and chest.

With his dead weight in my arms, I stood up and walked towards the now empty cot and set him down on it. There. Perfect. I reached out and folded his arms over his chest, feeling a bit smug that I had found the strength within myself to even touch the cold body; an hour before I was terrified at the thought of even looking at him and now I was carrying his body to and fro.

I snapped upright, leaning over my past victim. There was a noise outside the cell, voices conversing stiffly. I cocked my head to the side, my eyes narrowing. One was obviously Timothy Fitzgerald, that much I knew, but the other was unfamiliar. It was strained and hearty sounding, reminding me of maybe what Emmett would sound like in pain.

"Here, unwrap the towel from your arm and give it to me. Any last thoughts, Brody?" Timothy's voice was haughty and I could just imagine the leer covering his lips as he said these words.

And then it hit me. The overwhelming scent of fresh blood. I stiffened, my pupils dilating. No, I internally battled against myself, I wouldn't kill this man. This ‘Brody'. I wouldn't touch him in any violent way or try to take his life.

My mind made a snap decision and I abruptly threw myself against the door. Against my strength, it folded in on itself and propelled forward from the sudden impact. Shaking my head back and forth like a rabid dog, I fought against the nearby blood. I wouldn't kill him. I wouldn't. My oxygen supply was immediately cut off and I gulped down the venom greedily, my throat needing the release of its yearning.

I took a step outside, the first time I had seen anything besides the four walls of my cell in days. Officers lunged forward, their guns aiming at me, and I blinked as they loomed forward. A more animal side of me rapidly took over and I reared on them, my mouth hanging open as an unexpected roar tore its way from my aching throat.

I retreated to the back of my mind as the feral side of me took control. I wasn't worried in the least, though, that I would pounce on the cowering form of Brody and slash his throat open. Though blood bubbled from the cut vein in his arm and it smelled oh so good, the scene around me gratefully captured my attention.

A man leaped forward, trying to cover me with some sort of net, and I grabbed him in mid air and threw him against the wall, a savage growl echoing from my lips. I could only imagine what I must look like to them, a red-eyed fiend with limitless strength who was out on control and out of its cage. Like an animal.

Something shot into me and I froze. A gun was poised five feet away, aiming directly at my heart. In a flash of a second, I reached up and felt the gaping hole in my shirt at where the bullet had almost hit its target. I looked up, my nostrils flared in anger at the thought that they had decided to try to kill me instead of anything else.

There was a pulsating crowd around me of vicious officers, their hands reaching out and yanking at any part of me they could grab. I writhed in their grasps, tearing my clothes as they refused to loosen their grips. Over their heads I could see the stairwell, my only route of escape now. I shoved a man out of my way, snarling as he shot his gun off not even eight inches from my face. The bullet scraped against my cheek and exploded into dust from the impact of my marble skin.

Another man got in my way and I yanked him up with one arm and threw him in the other direction, ignoring his shouts. After that, most of them scurried away except for Timothy Fitzgerald. He stood directly before me, his eyes widened in infuriation and his teeth mashing together as his lips curled back.

He didn't frighten me in the least.

"Where do you think you're going?" His voice was almost inaudible and his fists clenched at his side. I looked at him in dark amusement, surprised by his nerve to actually get in my way like that.

I grinned at him, exposing my venom coated teeth, and put my hands lightly on his shoulders. "Don't worry, Timothy," I said amiably, "I'll be sure to come back for you." And with that, I shoved him against the wall and sprinted away, too fast for their eyes to see.

Within a whole second, I was in the stairwell, yanking open the door to step inside. I didn't wait for it to close; I was already off, darting up the stairs at two or three at a time.

I grinned defiantly as I sprung up the steps. I was free.


The Prisoner's Point of View

"What was it like though, man?" Mikey asked for the fifth time. I turned my head slowly, glaring at him through heavy lids. Along with Jimmy, the other man to survive the vampire encounter, I was a legend. My criminal friends surrounded me, their eyes wide and impatient for my retelling of my story with Carlisle.

I rolled my eyes and sank back into the cushion of the chair, my arms crossing over my chest. "I told you, man, it was no big thing. He was cool." I looked out towards the exit door, which several officers surrounded outside.

They all nodded, heads bobbing idiotically, with the same expression of wide eyes and grim mouths.

I closed my eyes, desperate for some form of sleep. Just as I began to drift away, a sudden clang snapped me back to full alertness. I jerked wide awake, ignoring the annoying expectant faces of my comrades. My gaze flickered to the exit door and I frowned slightly. There were no officers outside.

"Hey, what's goin' on out there?" I asked, jerking my chin in the direction of the door. Everyone's head spun to the door and I bit my lip. Another loud bang echoed and then someone shouted hoarsely, followed by a...growl?

I stood up, my face a mask of confusion. Everyone else stood up along with me, their panicked faces turned towards the door.

And then it opened. The door creaked, like it knew its speed would torture us, and then came to a stop. I almost felt like it was teasing us, telling us to escape, that no one would notice. I ignored its faux promises and stayed still, my eyes lingering on the left corner of the doorway where the tip of a boot could be seen. What the hell...?

Something clouded my vision. I focused in on the pale figure which now stood in the hallway and blinked uncertainly. It was a man, I realized. His skin was like Carlisle's, pale and marble looking, but his face was different.

His features were twisted into a maniac expression; eyes alit with slight insanity and crazed light. His lips were turned upwards in a brutish grin. The small amount of light in the room hit his pearly white teeth and it momentarily reflected in a blinding sheath of light. His features were angled like Carlisle's, though broader and even younger than his had been. He looked like one of those preppy college kids with his good looks, perfectly disorganized and windswept blonde hair and neat sweater with dress pants.

I soon noticed, though, that he wasn't as perfect as he appeared. There was a hungry look on his face and his clothes were torn in large patches. A hole in his chest exposed the pale flesh of his chest and there were holes over his shoulder, side, and back that all varied in size. Not only was this noticeable, but the darker blond hair upon his head was not as perfectly untidy as I thought it was. It was in a heap of uncombed dirty blond locks that fell past the lobes of his ears. And his eyes. They were as bright a crimson as the color of blood.

He stepped in the silent room and closed the door behind him, a sadistic smile covering his lips. "I was looking for you," he sighed, as if all of us were old friends. I looked around me at the fearful faces of my actual friends. I gulped, was there nothing to do except allow him to kill us?

His tall, muscular build was larger than Carlisle's and that worried me. If Carlisle contained such strength, think of what this creature could do.

I flinched back from him as he came closer, graceful moments almost sickening when paired with the Devil's face he wore.

As a group, we all shrunk back as the vampire loomed closer.