take it
all
away
Science had failed him with answers on how to change this. How to stop it all or even to slow it down. What he had seen, was that people were going to do what people did best. All power corrupts absolutely. The footage he had kept remained to be seen. It was hard to say what side was fighting for what cause. It didn't matter though. They were his own. He was better off back in the shadows doing just what he did best. Finding a means that was worth the sacrifice and dedication. To bring some sort of hope to those that desperately needed it. To change what components were set in motion and make these wrongs right. It felt impossible. It felt like the world's largest weight on his shoulders. And from his own notes, it felt like he was completely to blame, without enough knowledge on why. The pages went at great length to try and explain, but there was no means of real understanding. Too much, too beyond him. He wasn't there yet, he didn't even know when he would be.
Hands stuffed into his coat pockets, he walked down the street. There was a sense of helplessness here. Among the broken buildings, smashed vehicles, and the military policing the areas. He swallowed hard, watching people go about trying to fend for their daily needs. Cold, covering themselves with what blankets and coats could be afforded to them. A small child not yet in school, sipping from a cup that had steam coming off of it. Hands completely cupped around it, looking up at the adults, questioning, worried. He swallowed hard again in passing.
It wasn't just the pain and the loss, but there was a comradery. People banding together to try and fix what had been lost, even a week after the fact. Some buildings and shops boarded up. Supplies and directions handed out. Vaccinations on the move.
He had to stop paying attention to everything around him. There was a point to needing it, yes, but this was getting ridiculous. He was only getting lost in his own mind and his own guilt. It was heavy and was going to smother him before anything else happened. Failure was not an option. Not for this. He had spent far too much time in the days passing since figuring this all out.
Certain people would view him as personnel. They would get him what he needed and make sure this was handled. But there were portions he needed to see directly for himself. To make sure that things were going right and would fall into place. Each step was scrutinized, carefully planned and plotted. Each component looked into over what fail safe precautions were necessary here. He had watched and waited, moving through people that were made to forget who he was or that he was there. Cataloging everything that had mattered, making replicas of anything that needed to appear official.
He couldn't heal everyone, but he could make it better. To boost their immune system and allow them to fight this infection off, to rid it of their system and be immune from it for the rest of their lives. To be without complications or fears. Jem had an antiserum which would be used. Add on his own work with his own blood, from when he was some instrument of use. The tides would change here and now, and that's where his vision needed to be. On the sight of hope and not death. To see people live through this and function again as they once did rather than on the sick and hurt.
Not everyone could be Ali and end up on antibiotics. Not everyone could be treated by something so easily, until now. More people stood a chance. That burden felt lighter, as he watched the crates he wanted loaded onto the truck be looked over and sent off. Each of the hospitals, each of the clinics, everywhere they had set up a place for these people. Everyone was about to receive special care. All within the compounds of new IV bags and injections. Every which way a person could receive this, to make sure that they all received it. The only possible issue was to double check who had bacterial infections. Even with this help to their systems, that was still a possibility. Everything had a target and certain part slipped by. Those that didn't get better had to be watched, cataloged, to gain more.
Everything had to be discreet. Checked, rechecked, no cameras around. No one that could pinpoint him in anything. This was something deemed more criminal activity than anything. He was ill prepared to handle the consequences of that. It didn't matter that he was trying to help save the rest of those that were sick. Boston was under quarantine and it wasn't as if any of this was going to spread to anyone else. If that were true, the underlying areas needed to look into issues with their rodent and insect populations. Apparently, given news, their water treatment plans too.
He would make it back home before seven. No one would be any wiser. That was the regular expectation. Michael wasn't someone that was deemed special here. There were no other real abilities outside of his own mesmerism. That word, or even hypnotize, it made him feel as if he were part of some side show act. But he couldn't let that bother him. Just continue on, even if it meant to keep his eyes to the sidewalk later. To keep on, because all of this would be over soon.
Tossing it straight into the garbage, he groaned. Anxiety was heightened now, as he waited. Waiting games were not his forte. None of this really was. The world had changed overnight. Here he was back at this, without another direction to turn or distract himself. Previously playing the distraction for others and whatever all of this turned over into their lives. But he was a lost cause. His body changed, just not into ways that others were taking notice. He looked the same, and he could even see this in his own reflection. The same presence carried but it wasn't him, never him, not the way he remembered himself. But it wasn't him. It was strange. Both named Michael. A living vampire. How long could he go on like this? Shouldn't he be put into a mental institution already?
All of this just felt like he was reliving memories that weren't his. Ones he had no control over. He wasn't this person, this thing, and yet, he was. The blood work proved it, the science stood tall. No matter what sort of life he lived, he felt trapped. Everything became smaller and smaller. Ali had been on the road to recovery, but he didn't want to bother her. He didn't want to needlessly worry about her. This part of the notes was remembered. This part of his memory stood tall. He had been there, but he didn't recall everything. Just the motions, the actions. To help her and give her what she needed. The time spent with Jem in trying to fix this, in creating more. From vaccines to weaponry, to fixing this problem he was waiting on word about. Drea had been here. More help. Where did all of this start and where would it end?
How many people would see with some physical distortion from reality? Because vampires, they weren't supposed to be real. None of this was supposed to be. None of this was ever meant to be. Throwing his glass at the mirror, at his own reflection, he stood there staring at it. Anger glued to his own features, breathing heavy. Eerie silence steady, beyond the sound of his own breaths.
A knock would come at his door. It was strange and unlike anything he could recall hearing. As if someone were using the palm of their hand to bang on the other side of it. No one should be out right now. Who would even be at his door at this hour? He could clean this mess up later. It wasn't as if anyone would care even if they had seen it. Just added questions he did not feel like bothering with. Then again, for all he knew it was the military at his doorstep, having somehow caught what he had done. Wouldn't they have at least made themselves known by now? Done something other than pound on his door?
But there was that noise, again. Louder, with a hint of something else. His hearing though, it wasn't good enough to catch it. Moving towards the door, he tried to peek out the hole. A simple apartment, he did still worry about what he would find there. All that was seen was the top of a head. Dirty hair, oily, with a hood over it. One, single person? What would they want with him, let alone at this hour? Maybe they were hurt? Maybe this was a random visit? No one would want to hurt him, would they? What if it was sent by that man that was spoken ill of in his notes? Memories of starvation reared their ugly head and there he was, backing from the door. Looking all around, attempting to find a means of an out, there it came again. That pounding, but hard enough that the door was shaking. The person behind it having lost their patience with him.
Suddenly it was as if he were entered into a bad horror flick. He wasn't given the luxury of the music to direct him to the fact that his own end was near. His heart pounding, paranoia kicked in. Where was he to go? There was only so far the fire escape would take him. With his luck there would be someone down there waiting for him. And he couldn't go up, up meant certain death. There was no basement, so that wasn't going to happen. Not that it was a reliable option. The only real exit was blocked by an unknown person on the other side of the door. He wouldn't be so naive again. Not after what happened last time.
Grabbing the biggest knife he could find in the kitchen, that noise seemed to cause that much more of a stir. Whatever was behind it was not happy. Making a break for the windows, it was too late. His door was kicked in. A loud noise shaking through as something more monstrous than he came barreling through it.
Panic searing through his own eyes, Michael stared into the pit of failure and self destruction. It was a vampire. A mindless soul sucker that had come in search of its maker. This wasn't supposed to happen. This was not in the notes. A flash of something flickered into his mind, as if he had done it himself. In a way, he had. It was his own body. Having fed off of actual people. Stalked them, for what they were. Changed them, into something else entirely. Was this what would come later with the nature of fangs and claws, or was this another thing to be predetermined?
She had looked down, seeing what he had, not at all phased by it. Everything here was different. Whatever it was in her, it stopped, froze. Mid-movement, all but awaiting an order. Which, in a way she was. She was stronger than him, but bound by things he wasn't. He didn't know or understand this enough, but could only go by memory and research. She had meant to attack him, with his own anger. He was her creator and while he didn't have the ability to create them now, they were still linked. She couldn't function without him. Escaping certain death as things had to be done.
She was hungry, he knew she had to be. There was no doubt in his own mind. He knew that feeling, that look. It practically called to him too. An urge to take the knife and run her through. To slice into her body in a way that would finally and fully finish her off. But he resisted. Something about this entire moment pulled him away from that. He wanted to save her, if he could. That didn't mean he would be able to, that it would be possible, but maybe. It was something to look into. But really, it was a distraction. A means of hope to find. Not just for her but himself.
There was only so far he could go, what he could do. His own abilities were useless other than to tell her what needed to be done. It wasn't as if he was looking to have his very own live in vampiric maid either. That would never bode well. He didn't even know how she would react to others being here. Not that he had a lot of guests. Less and less, it seemed, unless something was wrong and the world was ending. Well, look at that, it tried to, right outside of his broken door and covered windows.
He could try. He would try. Failure was imminent, but the attempt would be true. As his grip on the knife relaxed, so did her composure. The hunger still in her eyes as she wanted a bite of flesh. Not his though, it wasn't what she craved. He wasn't right there, not for anyone. Moving for where he stored the blood bags, he wondered if it would help. It was hard enough to come by now, anyway, with all that had been going on. Donations were needed. People needed these. More than ever. But he could share, if she could handle it. The door still on his mind, even as she moved to fix it. Something else that would need to be fixed. A list piling, growing without other causes than himself. A forgotten solider lost in the sight of war. People dying and lying ill for no other reason than infestation. This was his life, his distraction.