To take control

Everything was running on a thought, some space in his own mind. One side had gained his own memories, a time and place that had to do with him. Morbius. Michael Morbius. There were more questions than answers, and this was a point where he could gain something. More than having killed another monster. Someone he had created. One that had been so close to death in the first place. She wasn't like him, not the way he should have meant for it to be. Without all that was done to him, all that was asked, he wouldn't have even done that much. The only thing he could tell himself was that he at least used someone that was a bad person. Someone that made others suffer too. But even so, here he was with a guilty conscience. As much as ever. He still felt no better than the rest. All of those people that play on the side of good and bad. But he wasn't meant to be either. Just used, a pawn, by those that saw fit, even for as much as he fought it. Was there any real fighting who you are? Someone to be tricked and manipulated?

His eyes were normal, that shade of blue that he could barely recall so long ago. A life that was more difficult to remember some days, even though he longed for them. Too much had happened since, too much guilt to hold onto when he did look back. All for the sake of living. A rare disease that they did cure a few years after he did this to himself. Even here, even where ever this really was, it had followed him. All to take shape onto another life. His own fangs being the only obvious point. His claws retracting. He wanted to be normal, to hold that normal life he wanted but always found was out of his reach. A trip to New York didn't change that, but the way he went about it, it was.

The flight felt long and tedious. It wasn't, but the feeling of it all. He was so used to seclusion. To staying out of the reach of others, hiding in the dark or playing the part of being out of sight. Either through the use of his own abilities, a car, the back of a bus or a train. Something more simple, as far as a means. Less lines and being searched or questioned. Less prone to being smiled at, welcomed. He wasn't sure how to handle that anymore. Was this what that man missed? What he didn't really think about and took for granted? The way that people interacted so easily? Was this something that he had done as well?

Life as different here, but very much the same. Subtle differences. Not the kind he couldn't find himself getting accustomed to, the kind he would like to be a part of. But this wasn't home, and he wasn't about to go lying to himself about that. He didn't know how much more time he had before things went south here, more than it had already. As long as he wasn't about to turn into that much more bat-like man that he was long ago, when it all first started. The transformation took its own toll, in the end. But the more human he looked there, towards the end, towards whatever he had been pulled from only to come here now? That was at least a little more appealing. Even if it was something more albino appearing, drug addict-esque.

The company was wanted, even though it wasn't needed. To possibly learn something where he might not otherwise understand. She reminded him of someone and it bothered him. Maybe he had a type. It wasn't something he was sure of. Unless it was trouble. That always found him, even if it wasn't about his own liking.

Senses guided him through the tunnels. The lack of light didn't bother him, but neither did hers. His weaknesses were tied to all of his abilities and it wasn't there. It wasn't all there. So the sensitivity didn't come like it had before, not yet. He was thankful for that. Trudging through it all, it was just as he remembered. The way it was set, the means, everything. Right down to the light at the end of the tunnel. The one that finally came as he met a place he had once called home. Moving closer and closer to it, drawn like a moth to the flame, he moved. No heat generated or needed, but there it was. Another life, right before him. One that wasn't here. The one that he remembered. Vacant and seemingly empty. That part didn't matter. He wanted it to, to know that there were more like him out there. To not feel so alone, to feel so trapped and struggling, but no, that wasn't all him. That was the other one. His stronger feelings, fears, worries, pouring into him. That wasn't what this was about. It was better that no one else was here. There was no telling how the natives would treat him, think of him, the last he left.

Regardless of his feelings, he would not allow this feeling to be taken from him. It was good and bad all at once. A piece of truth, in honesty, that these lines were blurring. There were only so many directions that could be taken, that this could mean. Were the lines between universes blurring? Was something crashing? Was there a certain doom awaiting them at the end of all of this because of it? Had someone created all of this? Altered the timeline, the scheme of things to do as they wished? Or maybe pulled them all to this world for some selfish purpose of their own? The rest of these questions really led him to believing and creating hypothosis after hypothosis, but they all spurred oaround that first question. The latter ones only really made a means for hope.

Here he was, standing in a real city. A place that was settled beneath New York, hidden away for monsters. There was no way that this place from his own memories had never been here before. Not with the way it looked, the way it seemed. This wasn't home. This was a different sort of place. This shouldn't be here. Just like they shouldn't be there. All of them, from different universes, places across the expanse of space and time. There were many unknown contenders, people he didn't recognize or understand, but everyone seemed to be from some sort of television, movie, or comic. They were nothing but used for entertainment purposes here.

This place, it wasn't supposed to be found. It had stopped him dead in his tracks at the sight of it. Horizon Labs. Another place full of memories. A time where he had hope and lost it all in one full swoop. That was his life though. To never have anything he wanted. To always be in search of something he could not have. To be normal again. None of this was ever his fight. These abilities weren't meant to do anything, they weren't some great and wonderful set of abilities he was born with. Some accident that left him less than human. Not a vampire, not a human being. Something in between. All the while, he just wanted to be the man he once was. This whole lack luster life was not for him. If only he could have waited, if only his life hadn't been on the line. He was stupid and arrogant. Playing with forces that were beyond his own comprehension and not testing them out properly before committing to it all. So certain of himself. Always so certain.

In truth, he had been tempted to keep walking. To go nowhere near the place. For all that he knew, Spider-Man was out and about, knowing just who he was, what he was, wanting to treat him the way that he always did. Less the colleague and more like the monster he had appeared to be. There was no lack of control here. He wasn't that monster, not now. He hadn't been in some time. His life was his own, right down to the blood lust. It wasn't his, it was Michael's. The man that was stuck walking around with red eyes and not enough understanding on what it was he would become. If only he could have helped. Could have done something, just to make sure that no one was hurt. But who was he kidding? He wasn't that man, even where it benefited himself. The last thing he needed was anyone to get hurt, all while this was his body too.

Walking through the doors, it was a slow motion but he had gained access. The experience was a whirlwind of its own. Temptation to stay, to look around and attempt to work on something, anything, to help out his own predicament. It was a temptation, but how long would any of it last? He didn't even know where to begin. He needed more information, more data. There was only so much to go on here. Not enough definitive proof of the way things were or are. Just a feeling, just a thought on what direction everything had taken upon its own.

Between superheroes and super villains, there was always a fight. That's what didn't really pull Morbiius into wanting to care about any of it. He really didn't. It wasn't worth the trouble. He just wanted to live his own life. But they, all wanted something that was deemed a higher privilege. The selfless and the self righteous. They were all the same, blurring their own lines and he wasn't this person. When he did see it, he tried to rid himself of it. What mattered was taking care of his own. What mattered was taking care of those things that meant something to him in this life or the last. Whether it was qualities in people or the people themselves.

He wanted something, desperately for himself, something that let him have what he wanted. To hell with what everyone else did. It didn't matter what they saw, what they held to be true, they didn't know or understand. They didn't have to live like this. His own abilities were split down the middle, straight down between the men. How much longer would it be before they were the same? Before they were one and one was more consumed than the other? Before this entire reality came tumbling down upon their heads? Because if that was to be what was going on here, either they would all crash and destroy one another or this would be the only place left. And where would that leave all of these memories, these people that they were yet were not?

It had been a week and nothing went away. Michael Morbius was still here and going strong. It just set it into his head that he was right. That this was what he believed it to be. He knew what others thought, whatever was going on with these stones they all spoke of. It was strange and possible, probable even, but why did those people have them? His own theory felt more and more sound. Extra time for him to live his life. And that's what he wanted to do. To remember what it was like to be that man. To pretend to be just that. To experience everything he could, and enjoy it all. It made him do things that he wasn't prone to. It made him want to. To forget about the undeniable and probable doom, and to look at something far more interesting. And that's just what came from it. Interesting. There was something there that reminded him of himself. Maybe that was part of the draw, maybe that was the reasoning he bothered so much. He didn't have answers, nor would he leave any other than a reminder, just in case. There was no telling just how much time he had or would have by the end of this. Precautions taken.

A moment that led him to New Year's Eve. He had plans. The sort that Michael would have been too worried to have made on his own. The kind that meant that he was about to be surrounded by people that he didn't know. Something that tended to be the case, but it was his eyes. Always his eyes that worried him. The blood lust, although insatiable, it was able to be held back. Enough blood left ready for him to have his own fill. A mask that would be set up for the sheer purpose of hiding what he wanted to stay hid. There would be no questions to answer to, no worries about someone pointing him out later over it. He could be at ease in a tuxedo. It wasn't as if he didn't own one. Awards were won, and one had to dress properly to receive them. It was only right, especially given the work that he had set forth into to gain them.

This life needed something. It needed life. Michael Morbius had been living far less, and might as well have been dead given the way that he had been. He had completed his own tasks before, buried himself in a guilt he still had washed over him. But he needed more and he was going to have it. The who, what, how, none if this mattered. He wanted this new life and he wasn't about to run over anyone for it.But he also wasn't about to be held back by the fact that one man held it all too. That his reactions would cause its own spiral and sets of reactions.

Everything was set up for him, all he had to do was to go. To be that man that he knew he was. To not worry about every little thing. It wasn't that he didn't have a right or a good reason to do so. Far from it. If anyone understood this, it was Morbius. He was the living vampire, after all. A title that didn't just come easily. He had sadly worked for it, killed for it, and all while it having been an accident of the worst kind. The sort that he would never wish upon anyone. But in a way, he felt they both deserved this, while they could still have it. Normalcy. Short-lived or not, it was worth the shot. To have something to hope for, to strive for, that wasn't about anyone else. This was their attempt, or would be. Rather than to sit around having to talk to strangers, people that one side or another knew. To argue with and find no end in sight. Some form of happiness, it was earned. And if not that, to at least be able to have people to care for. Someone outside of himself. Outside of responsibilities and to be more than this. It had been done before. But this was a chance for now. This was his chance for now.