It's like the first time you remember Kelso. His hand outstretched, asking him to join you... You shake it firmly.

It's crazy, but you trust him. Like a baby chick to the first thing it sees... It's funny. He's become of a master and more like a father. While he may not have the most moral methods, he still knows way more than you and will help you through it. Besides, the Professor no doubt know your origins, before you kill him you might even get that from him. If you stick with Kelso, that is.

As silence consumes the conversation, you attempt at conversing, "So, the lotion..."

"Sun-tan lotion. It wears off after a small while, but it'll protect you when it counts. Spread it on your face, wouldn't want that to peel all the way off. The hoodie and that is the best things I was able to take."

"So you stole it?"

He shrugs. "Took it. We need to hide, remember? Can't have people know about us and our condition. The soldiers are much stronger when they are in control. Also: the Zealot's armor. It's worth equipping, just need to turn off the flashy-light part."

"And now what?"

"You stop asking questions and let me finish." He eyes you with seeming annoyance. "We'll be finding his stronger Creations that no doubt survived this long. They're a violent lot though, which is why having you will be a big help. I figure one of them will know where the Professor is."

As if reading your mind, he continues, "And we find them by trailing the C.E. Division, which have specific DNA trackers on some of us. Not you or myself, thankfully, but a good deal of the Creations were registered to the government. Government program and all... But anyhow, we're going to town soon. I say we wait at the police station, they should have an outpost there. After hearing where they are, we hitch a ride in one of their vans. Not a very elaborate plan, but it'll probably work."

He stares at you, as if expecting resistance. "Unless you have a better idea?"

"Actually...
> You why don't we just signal them?"
Kelso rubs at his clean chin. "Elaborate."

You hold up the walky-talkie, "If they know where the Professor is, then that means they're either working for him, like you're assuming, or are just planning their vengeance; If we can get a message to them, get their attention--"

"Then the C.E. Soldiers will get to us and them."

"Not unless our signal is obscure, something only a Creation would know. Can I assume that we're the only one who refer to the Professor, as, well, a professor?"

Your mentor smiles, "Yes... That's what the greater Creations called him. Myself, the Werewolf, Stein, and several others. We all were forced under the bastard to look over Lessers, like yourself. One of them are bound to be in this town, has the smallest C.E. division in the East. We just have to hope we'll be able to handle them in the case that they're still loyal. So you want us to send a wide broadcast, maybe even a flare labeled 'Professor', and hope we catch some of our brethren?"

"That," you continue, "or we lure the church to us by contacting them with the Walkie, and just beat the information out of them. By the sounds of it, they'd be expecting a trap, so they wouldn't bring all their operatives to this location. Hopefully they have an idea where the other Creations are. It's not a perfect plan, but it's uh, better than yours. Don't think you can just nab one like you did with the last one, now that they're probably on guard."

Kelso nods, considering both of your plans, "Much better. Regardless, Mr. Plans, we need to train."

"Train, for what?" Crossing your arms as a child would, you question Kelso. "I feel like you're not telling me everything. Even if the plan is solid, but we need to be solid, with, umm, each-other."

With a chuckle, Kelso replies, "What do you think we're doing? We're fighting against an elite military operation, as well as bio-genetically advanced Creations. We're not playing here, son, there's going to be blood. I'm pretty certain that you'll be able to be very powerful if we train accordingly. This may be surprising, but I think you should cherish your undeath while it lasts. Not to mention that I'd rather not jeopardize myself."

"... So the Creations are going to be very hostile?"

He shrugs in return, "Maybe, more likely than not anyhow. We're betting on whether they're still loyal or not to their Creator."

"Why would they still be loyal to that... that bastard?"

"Well, he did save our lives." You stand in silence with a confused frown. Kelso continues. "Mind you, he also treated us like lab rats and played with our genetic-material. That's why we're going to find him and his Creations, to put an end to it once and for all, so no one else is 'saved' by that man." You nod in understanding. Kelso and yourself... You're going to help the world together. Clean it.

A hero...

"The valley of dunes at night is the best place and time. We'll train today and tomorrow, and by then you should be ready. Now, more about that plan of yours..."
> You contact the other Creations in any way possible.
You spend the next several nights preparing for action, training with Kelso. Over the course of your tutoring, you've begun to really fit into your new, adaptable body. You're able to fight, and you're able to think, strategize. Be efficient, be in control. You know you're ready, and you don't need Kelso to convince you of that anymore. You feel like you're ready to pull off one of your plans.

It's night once again, with the Moon full and bright. Kelso is clad in your hoodie, his aged but intimidating features showing out from under it. It didn't seem like his ideal clothes (you could see him rocking a cloak) but when at night a hoodie is probably more practical. You're still garbed in the bulky, but inspiring armor of the Zealot, just with the lights on the outside turned off. You look to your Mentor, who's sitting beside you in the half-buried house. You begin to explain your simplistic, though wishful plan to your mentor.

"This is obviously just an assumption, but if we were able to nick a talkie pretty quick, then any other Creation in the area would probably have one." You begin, eyeing Kelso's facial expression.

Blank. "Sound logic."

You cough, and then continue, "But they wouldn't use the same channel that the Church uses to communicate, I'd assume. So if we fiddle with the channel, go through each one very thoroughly, then-"

"We may find a fellow, nearby Creation. Interesting, though it may not work."

"And if it doesn't work then we can try my other plan." You say arguing for your plans.

"Well, we should get this done quick then. You're likely going to get hungry if you don't drink soon. Couple of days, I think."

You shudder; drinking like you did last time wasn't fun. Even if it was tasty. "So, you think it's worth a shot?"

He nods, "Provided you know what to say to them if they reply."

Thoughts begin to form, though you can admit to yourself that you're not a hundred percent certain on what you could say. Hello, we're looking for the Professor? ... Um, want to tell us where you are? Thanks, please don't kill us when we meet.

You laugh, the situation playing out in your head. "Let's do it then, no reason not to." You grab around and find the Zealot's walkie-talkie, and switch it on...

Click

You immediately memorize where the current dial is set at and then begin to move the dial all the way to the left. You wait for a moment, only hearing static. The dial moves about a millimeter to the right-- just static. One centimeter at a time... To say the least, it gets aggravating. More static, keeps going, and going, and no dice.
> You trudge along...
Every time the dial moves slightly less than a centimeter, you pause for thirty seconds, push the button and recite in monotone, "Hello, are you knowledgeable about the Professor?" Hoping you catch something or get a response. Kelso's eventual chuckles are disconcerting, to say the least, but you focus on the problem at hand. You continue pushing the dial to the right, passing it's original point and beyond. Meanwhile, you're praying to no deity in particular that your plan succeeds. You want to impress Kelso. He's like a father-figure, the first person you saw when your hatched out of your tube. On the other hand, he's a teacher who's withholding information, which gets frustrating at times. You remain conflicted about the only person you have met in your vampiric form.

Suddenly, you hear a response. Short and you can't make out what it's saying, but it's something. You push the button and repeat, "Hello?" You stop pressing.

Lots of static, probably bad reception on their end. A gruff, snarling voice speaks out, "Who's there? What's this about a professor?"

"You know who I'm talking about." You reply, hoping. "The Professor, the one who Created us."

"Then who are you?"

"A fellow Creation, and I want to join forces. The Zealots are too many in number for my liking."

"Do you really... Who's with you?"

You look to Kelso, who brings a finger to his lips. "Just... Just me. Why?"

"Because you're lying." The voice coughs, sending over a truly ugly sound over the transceiver, "But no matter. You wish to join the Wolves then, right?"

"Assuming your group can take care of itself. How many are your group and where are you?"

"Five and growing. You won't find it, it's under the ground."

And growing? "So can you lead me to where you guys are?"

You wait a couple of moments, and then he answers, "Hmm... Nah. We don't need more nutbars in this camp. I'd rather not bring attention to our hideout from the Zealots."

Son of a bitch. "Well, you're missing out, Wolfie."

"I'm sure I am, haha."

You click it off. "Sorry, Kelso, that was pretty pointless."

"Though interesting. It doesn't sound like they're too interested in finding the Professor, rather just survival. Perhaps with a little arm twisting we can get in there..."

"If we find out where they are."

"Well, that's what Plan B is for, right?"
> You try to lure a Zealot here, in hopes one of them know where the Wolf hideout is.
"Err, uh, yeah. Let's try my other plan."

Kelso laughs. "Of course."

"Hey, both of my plans were better than your's." You argue, setting the dial back to where it was. Now that you think about it, you wonder why the Church never went out looking for the Zealot which your mentor killed, and you killed. Perhaps they did, just you and Kelso never noticed it. Or perhaps the Zealots often went out in long journeys without communication.

No matter now, You realize, they'll pick up at the signal. Somebody will.

Excitedly, you fidget for the WT, and grasp it firmly. You clear your throat to speak, but Kelso briefs you.

"Remember, just put the channel on. Listen in and wait for a while, and if nothing turns up then try speaking. But only then."

"Does it matter?"

"It might."

You cough again, then breathe in. Out. In.

You put the dial back to where it was in the first place.

Out. Nothing but static, for now. Minutes go by. You stand at the ready. But all is static. Ten minutes turns to half an hour, though your body doesn't stop tensing. Something is coming.
> You try to communicate.
You push the button on the walkie-talkie, and speak into it. "Hello?"

Moments pass. After several more crackles you get a response. A cool female voice speaks out, "Sebastian? Seargent, is everything alright?" British?

Kelso shoots you a sideways glance. You can almost feel him sending you a message with his eyes. Be creative, you call the shots for now.

You blink. Ahem, "I have spotted some of the err, creations."

"Well of course you have." Matter of fact tone. "We've known where the devils that are the Wolves have been for a while now. We just need to strike them. Which reminds me, we should get back to base."

Perfect. Ish. "No! The, uh, lord helped me and I found others."

"Others? What do you mean?"

"There are other Creations that have escaped aside from the, uh, wolves, and-"

The woman on the other side is excited, "More?"

"Um, only one. That I found, at least. But one is one too many. I uh, need backup."

"Stop stuttering, Sebastian. This is important. Where are you? Now searching it up..." Pause. "Your GPS tracker hasn't been functioning for a couple of days. That's probably why security has tightened around the City. Where the hell are you?"

Shit. "Well, uh, the battery died and, uh, things happened."

"Things? Sebastian, I... Did it take you hostage?"

You've decided you like her voice. "It?"

She lowers her voice, "What is your general location, Sebastian? We'll find you. You'll be safe."

You pause, looking to Kelso for help. To tell the truth, you have no idea where you are. Kelso looks the other way. You sigh, annoyed at him. Maybe he's just a bit offended that your plan was better. Or not.

"I..."
> You force the reciever into Kelso's hand.
Scared to risk stuttering more and screwing things up, you take the WT and make sure Kelso holds it. He looks at you with contempt before speaking into it.

"Indeed." He seethes, his voice threatening and just... Cold. Kelso doesn't even need to try to get his voice that way, it just is, even if it sounds grandfather-like when he scolds you, "I have him. It's amazing how the Church has destroyed what's left of this Earth. Only desert left aside from your little colony and houses buried in sand. But believe me, this 'Sebastian' isn't the first human who I've caught." Kelso pauses, and releases the button to see if she responds.

She doesn't.

He finishes. "And he won't be the last."

Click

And it's off.

"Master, wasn't that too dramatic? We don't want them to send more than we can handle..."

"Kid, you never force a person into a conversation he didn't start. You'd think you'd still remember proper manners. Let's just hope to heaven they don't bring every damn one of the king's men."

---

Kelso and yourself find several mounds to hide behind. There are only several clusters of areas around the big City that have the half-buried houses, which means that the religious troupe will likely find them there, at some point. You keep your sights on the city. Every once in a while you'll see moving lights across the landscape, which are subsequently turned off. Then on. And off again...

"Those are the soldiers." Kelso points out to you. A good deal of them too, and approaching quickly on more than one side. The lights seem to travel in groups. You count... Eight groups of five. You wonder how many you can take, and in turn how much more Kelso could.

"So, what's the plan?"

"We capture one and hightail it out of here. This... Is going to be challenging."

Your mentor stands up, watching the approaching mob of Zealots. Two or three are way off, lighting up the opposite direction, but the rest are surrounding your vicinity, though you're uncertain if that's on purpose or not. Kelso motions you to come closer to him, to listen. "This is where we split up. They're trying to flank us, but that won't work when they're spread out like this. We're, funnily enough, a straight, though long line away from the city. The lights are moving toward us, and with other groups closing in from the two sides; a circle. I go one way, you go the other."

"Like we trained, I hit hared and fast."

He nods. "Let's get to it then. Good luck, kid." He begins jogging to the left. It's when he breaks out into a run when you only begin moving leftwards. For the first time since you escaped the Facility, you're scared. You sprint across the sand with your head down, maintaining balance and stealth even with your heavy armor. You ready yourself, the lights shining brighter and brighter until... You see them. Tall, thick, dark; the words that come to mind. Shining Crosses on ebony metal that covers the entire body, down to the legs. His helmet's visor is like a medieval knight's, only more techy. Not only that, but their rifles are huge, with tusks at the end. You wonder what caliber that behemoth could hold...

Still, you have the element of surprise, if only because you aren't a lightbulb shaped a like freaking cross.

You leap up, letting a gust of wind propel you, making a cross of your own in the night-sky, Your body finds itself right above the ringleader, who dumbly looks up when your feet, disguised as sneakers, land on his  helmet. A heavy clunking sound is made before you hear a snap (his neck), which you use for momentum, jumping at another, this time with your fists. Refined rage, like Kelso taught you.

It was going fine until bullets came into the picture. After the second clunk the last three of the group turn and point their bayonets-on-crack rifles at you. What comes out isn't a bullet, more like... Lightning?

It bursts out at you with a mighty roar, and you feel your skin ripping, only to regenerate. Three more blasts, you make another swipe, hitting viciously through the armor of one, finishing him off with blood. Three (who were shooting at you) to go.

They reload, which thankfully takes enough time. One of them doesn't bother, however, and stick the tusks of his rifle into you. Some of your blood spills, and even more of his bursts out when you push his rifle from inside you to inside of him, his armor nothing when your rage takes over. With blood squirting into your eyes, the rest are easy work. You claw at the armored figures, their lightning-shots hurting you but not overcoming you until... You're done. Five of them were killed, and you don't even remember how the last one went down. You lay on the sand, too stunned to move.

More of the Crosses come over to belt you over the head with what must be a bible, because damn was it heavy.

---

Even more bright lights (a recurring theme, you tell yourself), and you find yourself strapped onto a chair. The room is all blue, but your chair is white. For whatever reason, the colors seem pleasant, and calming to you. You wonder what happened to Kelso...

A powerful voice speaks out, "Who are you?"
> You reply truthfully.
"I honestly don't know." You reply to the voice, "But who are you?"

The blue room begins to make funny, scratching noises. Then, the sound of clinking; gears shifting, and a part of the room turns backwards, revealing an opening. Out of it, and elderly man with a flowing white beard, skullcap and robe comes out. "My apologies," His gravely, but strong voice speaks out, "I am the founder of the Church and retired Zealot." As he says this, a hatch in the floor is cranked open, allowing space for an odd chair to form out. "May I take a seat?"

You lick your lips. Still some blood on them, you would have thought the assholes be kind enough to wash you, but apparently not. Seeing you not respond, the Father takes a seat. "So," He begins, "You don't remember... Anything? How have you been surviving alone? You're young."

You nod. "No. I woke up when your 'Zealots' destroyed teh Facility. I'm lucky I made it out alive, with your dogs burning it down. I had a mentor, though you likely got him as well..."

"There are two unlisted Creations? Fascinating." He strokes his beard, "The burning of the facility was necessary. Not that you'd know, you're in the dark, I believe."

You find this funny, though not untrue. "And you're about to enlighten me?"

Tomas nods, "Then end your suffering, through any means necessary."

"So I'm going to die by the end of this?"

"Of course. Though there's always the option of cooperating. Even the saints needed the devils to do their bidding. Sometimes." He smiles.

"I'm not some sort of 'devil'." You reply, bewildered, "Why do you suppose that?"

"You like stories, yes? Because there is a necessary one here, one that you probably never heard of."

Head shaking, you motion for him to carry on.

"For being such a good sport, I'll cut out the dramatic parts and just get to the real 'beef'" He states, his eyes trained on yours. He coughs, spewing out dots of mucus in your direction, then does it again. WIth his throat now cleared, Father Tomas begins his tale.

"The world two decades ago was a much different place. Lush greens were the equivalent of sand today; everywhere you looked, there was grass. Huge cities, several miles in circumference, were common place. Buildings reaching the clouds and mods of transport like griffons, soaring high above. Religion, ironically, was considerably less widespread, and it continued to dwindle as so-called 'science' led many astray. As evil was legalized, sodomy and murder-rates soon became more and more consistent and the government fell to anarchy as horrible diseases began to spread. Militant radicals spread throughout the globe, raping and pillaging. At the time, to those who were looking, it was obvious that this was God's Reckoning; his flood to bring about a New Age. That's where Simon Kurschner's Creations came into play. With government support, he tried to find a way to get out of the apocalypse, not realizing it was God's will, it couldn't be stopped. But he tried, and he received the funding to do whatever he wanted, with hopes of stopping the plague, and creating beings who could stop the barbarians. He took the dead and dying, experimenting on them and trying to create slaves. There is no doubt in my mind he did things that weren't legal, but that didn't matter to them. As long as he saved us, he could go against the Lord's will, using humans as guinea pigs, and secretly trying to make for himself perfect slaves. Kurschner created many different sorts of entities, and for the next several years he was a beacon of hope for the non-believers. But we, the Church, we knew what was coming. The Creations were immune to disease, and had a fighting prowess unmatched by the strongest armies in the world. One Creation could destroy hundreds of Radicals with minimal effort, and it seemed like this would fix everything, but hell on Earth stayed. Even after the threats were stopped, the Creations and their Leader wanted more. They began to kill indiscriminately, with an attempt to rule the world."

He takes a deep breath, trying to remember, "As God decreed, the Earth began to decay in the demons' wake. While Doctor Kurschner ruled his legions from hell, a few of us banded together. The Church was the new Ark; we banded together to maintain what's left of humanity. IT was hard, but we suceeded, with several towns in the Northern United States. But the demons still linger, and it is our duty to destroy what God intended to not let live.

"Because that's is what you are!" He raises his voice, shaking his fists angrily at your helpless self on the chair, "You were supposed to stay dead, like the rest of the infected. But you were given life, and now are doomed to live a cursed life because of that Doctor. That is why the Church will destroy all the Creations that are still roaming the Earth."

"But they're still human!" You interrupt, pointing to yourself, "I'm still human."

The Priest continues, as if not hearing you, "However... It isn't your fault. Perhaps that's why I'm giving you this chance, a chance at a redemption, of sorts. After the men you've killed, there is nothing I can do to save your unlife, but perhaps you can still find favor with the Lord... Undercover."
> You hear him out.
His story is... Interesting, to say the least. So Simon Kurschner is the Professor's actual name.

"So what do you want from me?" You ask, uncertain of yourself. Who is my main enemy? The Professor or the Church? Both? Is the Professor even still alive?

The Father nods, "We need you to lead us to the other Creations, so we can finish them once and for all. You are the last of the Vampires, and you can most likely help our charge on the Wolves. As I said, the Creations are very powerful. Having one on our side could be a huge help."

You smirk back at him, "Why though? It's not like you've given me any sort of ambition to help you wackos."

"Well, I thought life was good objective." He shrugs, bringing his hand close to the opening of his robes.

"You think I'd sell out my fellow Creations just for myself?"

"I'd be surprised if you cared for them-- you don't even remember them! You have no connection to this world anymore." He grimaces, taking a knobby finger and waving it at your chest. "The only thing that may be left is your heart, and even that is subject to debate. Will you side with us, the humans, or die here. The choice is yours. Light and Darkness, that is your only option here!"

Light and Darkness, but is it really that simple?
> You redeem yourself in the eyes of God.
"Very good." The old man grins, "Your training shall commence soon enough. Now, you will be fed every once in a while, we have some animals out back that you can feast from, if you want. But you certainly won't be getting human blood, haha."

Regardless of your reasons for accepting the devil's bargain, you can't help but find him horribly irritating currently. You sigh, realizing that the only thing you can look forward to this week is the blandly colored room and the sneering priest. "Goodbye, then, Vampire of the Light."

The priest happily shuffles away into the clinking gear-based doors, and your mind wanders...

Days pass, and you'd be lying if you said that you weren't surprised that the withered old geezer wasn't mentoring you himself. Of course, this makes sense-- the rest of the Church would probably lynch him if he declared you 'AOK', but it's more surprising how spry the man is. He spends the next few days teaching you boring protocol, not-as-boring use of standardized C.E. weaponry, and a quick, refined crash-course through some-sort of martial art. Surprisingly, he doesn't bother you with the gospel of the Zealots, but you're too busy working on yourself in order to reflect on that.

Within a week, he manages to transform you into what he thinks is a Creation killing machine. And it's then when he reveals the plan you were already somewhat familiar with. "It is necessary that we raid the Wolf hideout, and completely eliminate the Wolf threat once and for all, when they least expect it. We have found their coordinates, finally," he hands you a tablet, showing a mapping of the surrounding desert, "And can now make sure they can no longer harm themselves or anyone else anymore. So, Vampire-Of-Light, do you think you're ready to take on the Demons, as is your holy mission?"

"Sir, yes sir!"

He grins, then outfits you with standard Zealot equipment; armor, rifle, and various gadgets used for communication.

"Now just wait here while I get the rest of the Zealots ready. Tonight, you will banish the evil in our own backyards! Godspeed, soldier." With that, he leaves, finally leaving you alone.

Ah, the open air and the cold night sky. Beautiful in many ways, and-- wait, I'm outside! I can run away from this place! I can't believe they're letting me out unsupervised like this...
> You run away, you must inform your brethren of the Church's plans before you're too late!
You slowly begin making your way up and to the right-side, in the direction of the Wolves' actual hideout. What starts off as a slow walk turns into full-blown running on the cool desert sand. You breathe in the air, and then out. Despite the recent turn of events, you feel absolutely wonderful; though that feeling is soon changed into a horrific one. You suddenly sense your body being pulled back by some sort of shocking force, and then your bleary eyes only make out another cool-blue room.

Difference is, there are several others in the room, all in masks. You try to move, but your entire body seems to be restrained by a cold metal, and your face is covered by some sort of hazy mask and...

Is that a scalpel!?!?

The Father's voice rings out, "See, the funny thing is, you never really had a choice in helping us. In the end, God always opens up ways for his sheep to wander, and always closes the gates on the bad wolves. I had plans to make use of you regardless of whether you actually meant repentance."

Though it's a slow and dull process, you feel your life-energy slowly being sucked out. Even if you could probably survive much longer, you slowly realize that survival is what they want, so they could continue examining your body and organs for whatever purposes and rituals the Zealots want. Soon, your spirit leaves your body, and you feel yourself die on the hospital bed.

You have been killed by the hands of the Church.


"Very good." The old man grins, "Your training shall commence soon enough. Now, you will be fed every once in a while, we have some animals out back that you can feast from, if you want. But you certainly won't be getting human blood, haha."

Regardless of your reasons for accepting the devil's bargain, you can't help but find him horribly irritating currently. You sigh, realizing that the only thing you can look forward to this week is the blandly colored room and the sneering priest. "Goodbye, then, Vampire of the Light."

The priest happily shuffles away into the clinking gear-based doors, and your mind wanders...

Days pass, and you'd be lying if you said that you weren't surprised that the withered old geezer wasn't mentoring you himself. Of course, this makes sense-- the rest of the Church would probably lynch him if he declared you 'AOK', but it's more surprising how spry the man is. He spends the next few days teaching you boring protocol, not-as-boring use of standardized C.E. weaponry, and a quick, refined crash-course through some-sort of martial art. Surprisingly, he doesn't bother you with the gospel of the Zealots, but you're too busy working on yourself in order to reflect on that.

Within a week, he manages to transform you into what he thinks is a Creation killing machine. And it's then when he reveals the plan you were already somewhat familiar with. "It is necessary that we raid the Wolf hideout, and completely eliminate the Wolf threat once and for all, when they least expect it. We have found their coordinates, finally," he hands you a tablet, showing a mapping of the surrounding desert, "And can now make sure they can no longer harm themselves or anyone else anymore. So, Vampire-Of-Light, do you think you're ready to take on the Demons, as is your holy mission?"

"Sir, yes sir!"

He grins, then outfits you with standard Zealot equipment; armor, rifle, and various gadgets used for communication.

"Now just wait here while I get the rest of the Zealots ready. Tonight, you will banish the evil in our own backyards! Godspeed, soldier." With that, he leaves, finally leaving you alone.

Ah, the open air and the cold night sky. Beautiful in many ways, and-- wait, I'm outside! I can run away from this place! I can't believe they're letting me out unsupervised like this...
> You proceed with the facade of a loyal Zealot, only to turn when the time is right.
You remain compliant, for now. You think about everything you've been through so far-- not much, though it's felt like a lot. The main 'highlights' was Kelso, where the hell is that bastard? and the constant torment you've endured from Father Tomas. At least, regardless of today's outcome, you'll have you revenge against the Church, at least.

You turn your head to find at least fifty armored Zealots in formation, marching along with their flashing chests and a surprisingly optimistic attitude, as described by their songs. "Soldier, what are you doing out here so early? What's your name and rank?"

Crap, I just got called out, "Err, Father Tomas knows. Where is he? I thought he was, uh, coming."

"Nope, he's staying back for morale reasons." The person who called for you gets out of the formation, and runs to catch up with you. The man, especially shown through the armor, is huge-- probably the biggest Zealot you've seen thus far. His voice is pretty heavy, but he sounds surprisingly intelligent for one of his size, "Wait, are you new? You look young..."

"You could say that."

He laughs, misunderstanding, "Right then, I'm Chief. If you need anything just ask, young one. This'll be much easier than you think. We'll steam-roll the hell out of those Demons with our newly refined weapons."

"Oh?"

"All silver, baby. It cost a lot to build, and we're the only Zealots aside from Karat- you know, they guy who persists to wear white armor," Who or what the hell is he talking about? "Who have this new design. The Father says this stops them from healing, so we have no chance of losing. Don't be scared, now. I'll get you a seat in formation, give me a sec."

Your stupid grin at the cockiness of the head-Zealot is thankfully concealed by your helmet. He stuffs you in his position-- the front line, while he leads out in front. Just as well, you think, I don't think this will be as easy as he says, so my being in the front should help. I think.

The march is treacherously long, and if you're admitting to that then you can't imagine how the Zealots are with all the excess armor. Thankfully, your so-called curse comes with its blessings, and if you were to add it all up, you'd probably count the curses in the blessing pile. Everything would be good if only the damn Church wasn't involved.

Eventually, you reach the end of of the journey, and you find nothing but more desert. "Uh, Chief? Where is the Wolf hideout?"

"Literally, underground." He laughs. He takes out his rifle and screws off the tusk, and from his armor he withdraws a crafty little shovel-head. "Samuel, Zadok, do the same. We need to open this up quickly."

Two of the larger Zealots come up from behind you to help shovel the certain mound of sand, and while you find it  amusing at first, it soon becomes apparent that this is the place when you hear a metal clanging sound.

"This is it!"

You look into the ditch, and find an odd metal disk embedded into a round concrete tube, large in diameter. Maybe a well?

Te man labeled 'Zadok' changes his rifle's end again, back to the tusks, then hollers for everybody to get back. Everybody complies.

With a large grunt, he prepares his rifle to shoot at the plate, then a large sonic-boom erupts, and the green lightning sets the plate to turn red, in heat. Samuel sends a heavy kick, which is just enough to send the disk out of its place, opening up the well.

"For God's glory!" Chief yells, and they repeat after him with enthusiasm.

"FOR GOD'S GLORY!"

The three head-Zealots jump down the well, landing with  a loud cracking sound.

Impatient at this point, you decide to reveal your true, brutal colors while the Zealots line up for going down the well. Slowly, you wait your turn to follow the first half down the well, but as your turn is right about to come up, you grab the man in front of you, and turn him over and drop-- having him fall head-first into the concrete below. The other Zealots stop their chanting and look at you, confused.

You take advantage of their shock by ramming the silver tusks of your rifle through the man behind you, and following through the bum rush, pushing over several more people. You let leave of your gun,  and begin angrily clawing and punching any Zealot in your way, easily piercing their various armors. Occasionally, a larger one would manage to grab you during your rampage, but the built-up rage inside of you gives you the ability to flip them from over you, then continue your massacre. The state of chaos and cluttered set of armors running frantically around, trying to hit you with their weapons make it all the better, until, from what you can make out with blurred eyesight, comes back up from well, only to blast you with his rifle.

What happens after that, you cannot tell.

You have been killed by Zealots... But at least you took out about half of them with you!


"Very good." The old man grins, "Your training shall commence soon enough. Now, you will be fed every once in a while, we have some animals out back that you can feast from, if you want. But you certainly won't be getting human blood, haha."

Regardless of your reasons for accepting the devil's bargain, you can't help but find him horribly irritating currently. You sigh, realizing that the only thing you can look forward to this week is the blandly colored room and the sneering priest. "Goodbye, then, Vampire of the Light."

The priest happily shuffles away into the clinking gear-based doors, and your mind wanders...

Days pass, and you'd be lying if you said that you weren't surprised that the withered old geezer wasn't mentoring you himself. Of course, this makes sense-- the rest of the Church would probably lynch him if he declared you 'AOK', but it's more surprising how spry the man is. He spends the next few days teaching you boring protocol, not-as-boring use of standardized C.E. weaponry, and a quick, refined crash-course through some-sort of martial art. Surprisingly, he doesn't bother you with the gospel of the Zealots, but you're too busy working on yourself in order to reflect on that.

Within a week, he manages to transform you into what he thinks is a Creation killing machine. And it's then when he reveals the plan you were already somewhat familiar with. "It is necessary that we raid the Wolf hideout, and completely eliminate the Wolf threat once and for all, when they least expect it. We have found their coordinates, finally," he hands you a tablet, showing a mapping of the surrounding desert, "And can now make sure they can no longer harm themselves or anyone else anymore. So, Vampire-Of-Light, do you think you're ready to take on the Demons, as is your holy mission?"

"Sir, yes sir!"

He grins, then outfits you with standard Zealot equipment; armor, rifle, and various gadgets used for communication.

"Now just wait here while I get the rest of the Zealots ready. Tonight, you will banish the evil in our own backyards! Godspeed, soldier." With that, he leaves, finally leaving you alone.

Ah, the open air and the cold night sky. Beautiful in many ways, and-- wait, I'm outside! I can run away from this place! I can't believe they're letting me out unsupervised like this...
> You fulfill your duty as a Zealot of God.
Indeed, you stand in the cold more stalwart than you've ever been, an entire outlook changed. While the Church may have its faults, blaming it for the world's destruction isn't true. It all boils down to the Professor and his deviants, like myself. Unless they wish to repent, then they have no stake in this world.

Suddenly, you begin to hear an odd sort of chant or jingle being sung  from behind you. You turn your head to find at least fifty armored Zealots in formation, marching along with their flashing chests and a surprisingly optimistic attitude, as described by their songs. "Soldier, what are you doing out here so early? What's your name and rank?"

Crap, I just got called out, "Err, Father Tomas knows. Where is he? I thought he was, uh, coming."

"Nope, he's staying back for morale reasons." The person who called for you gets out of the formation, and runs to catch up with you. The man, espeically shown through the armor, is huge-- probably the biggest Zealot you've seen thus far. His voice is pretty heavy, but he sounds surprisingly intelligent for one of his size, "Wait, are you new? You look young..."

"You could say that."

He laughs, misunderstanding, "Right then, I'm Chief. If you need anything just ask young one. This'll be much easier than you think. We'll steam-roll the hell out of those Demons with our newly refined weapons."

"Oh?"

"All silver, baby. It cost a lot to build, and we're the only Zealots aside from Karat- you know, they guy who persists to wear white armor," Who or what the hell is he talking about? "Who have this new design. The Father says this stops them from healing, so we have no chance of losing. Don't be scared, now. I'll get you a seat in formation, give me a sec."

Your stupid grin at the kindness of the head-Zealot is thankfully concealed by your helmet. He stuffs you in his position-- the front line, while he leads out in front. Just as well, you think, I don't think this will be as easy as he says, so my being in the front should help. I think.

And this begins you ascent into God's plan, whatever it may be.

The march is treacherously long, and if you're admitting to that then you can't imagine how the others are with all the heavy armor. Thankfully, the curse comes with its blessings, and those blessings are obviously a reason why God's plan for you involved this. That, or we're all doomed. You shove that thought away for the moment, though.

Eventually, you reach the end of of the journey, and you find nothing but more desert. "Uh, Chief? Where is the Wolf hideout?"

"Literally, underground." He laughs. He takes out his rifle and screws off the tusk, and from his armor he withdraws a crafty little shovel-head. "Samuel, Zadok, do the same. We need to open this up quickly."

Two of the larger Zealots come up from behind you to help shovel the certain mound of sand, and while you find it  amusing at first, it soon becomes apparent that this is the place when you hear a metal clanging sound.

"This is it!"

You look into the ditch, and find an odd metal disk embedded into a round concrete tube, large in diameter. Maybe a well?

Te man labeled 'Zadok' changes his rifle's end again, back to the tusks, then hollers for everybody to get back. Everybody complies.

With a large grunt, he prepares his rifle to shoot at the plate, then a large sonic-boom erupts, and the green lightning sets the plate to turn red, in heat. Samuel sends a heavy kick, which is just enough to send the disk out of its place, opening up the well.

"For God's glory!" Chief yells, and they repeat after him with enthusiasm.

"FOR GOD'S GLORY!"

The big-three Zealots jump in one after each-other, and after that it's a beeline to get into the concrete sewer below. Finally, when it's your turn, you manage to find foot-holds to climb down, rather than just jumping down aimlessly and without stealth. Of course, stealth is thrown out of the window whenever these lovable tools are in the equation. They're still chanting, and the light from their armor is the only thing lighting up the cavern!

Your squadron of fifty or more begins a march through it, still as loud and boisterous as ever. But, suddenly, the mood changes. Something's not right...  Where are the Wolves?

Slowly, as the Zealots move inside the maze of hell, you notice more and more of them disappearing. "Chief! We're losing men as we speak!"

The Chief looks around, his armor working as  a flashlight, "Huh? But I don't see any of the Wolves?"

More and more Zealots disappear, with barely anything but a gasp at best. What the hell is happening?

After a small while of Zealots pleading for the Chief to turn back, you get the horrible feeling that you're next...

"Nobody touches my Creations."

You have been killed by an unknown player...


His story is... Interesting, to say the least. So Simon Kurschner is the Professor's actual name.

"So what do you want from me?" You ask, uncertain of yourself. Who is my main enemy? The Professor or the Church? Both? Is the Professor even still alive?

The Father nods, "We need you to lead us to the other Creations, so we can finish them once and for all. You are the last of the Vampires, and you can most likely help our charge on the Wolves. As I said, the Creations are very powerful. Having one on our side could be a huge help."

You smirk back at him, "Why though? It's not like you've given me any sort of ambition to help you wackos."

"Well, I thought life was good objective." He shrugs, bringing his hand close to the opening of his robes.

"You think I'd sell out my fellow Creations just for myself?"

"I'd be surprised if you cared for them-- you don't even remember them! You have no connection to this world anymore." He grimaces, taking a knobby finger and waving it at your chest. "The only thing that may be left is your heart, and even that is subject to debate. Will you side with us, the humans, or die here. The choice is yours. Light and Darkness, that is your only option here!"

Light and Darkness, but is it really that simple?
> You say "I won't be your bitch, Tomas."
The wrinkled old man frowns, "So, you're throwing your one chance for redemption?"

"I don't need redemption from the likes of you." You seethe back, channeling your undead cajones. "You want me to fight for you, but you're too worried about the decision that you wouldn't let any of the other Zealots.

"I won't tell you your wrong, but I will tell you that you're a fool to choose a unredeemed death over a redeemed life. But I cannot pretend to comprehend the demons."

You tilt your head, "You don't really believe I'm a demon, do you?" He continues to frown. "This... You wouldn't give me any sort of chance if you actually backed your beliefs. By now you must be just fear-mongering. But why?"

"Humanity needs a common-enemy, something to band us together to fight and destroy. That, and only that, will keep us alive."

The priest turns his back to you, and begins to slowly creep away. You struggle, and you yell out to try and kill him, to get out of this room. Yet, the UV-lights seem to hold you down, and when you realize what is happening. Flames emit from the bottom of your chair and begin to lick at your skin...

You have been killed by the hands of the Church.


Scared to risk stuttering more and screwing things up, you take the WT and make sure Kelso holds it. He looks at you with contempt before speaking into it.

"Indeed." He seethes, his voice threatening and just... Cold. Kelso doesn't even need to try to get his voice that way, it just is, even if it sounds grandfather-like when he scolds you, "I have him. It's amazing how the Church has destroyed what's left of this Earth. Only desert left aside from your little colony and houses buried in sand. But believe me, this 'Sebastian' isn't the first human who I've caught." Kelso pauses, and releases the button to see if she responds.

She doesn't.

He finishes. "And he won't be the last."

Click

And it's off.

"Master, wasn't that too dramatic? We don't want them to send more than we can handle..."

"Kid, you never force a person into a conversation he didn't start. You'd think you'd still remember proper manners. Let's just hope to heaven they don't bring every damn one of the king's men."

---

Kelso and yourself find several mounds to hide behind. There are only several clusters of areas around the big City that have the half-buried houses, which means that the religious troupe will likely find them there, at some point. You keep your sights on the city. Every once in a while you'll see moving lights across the landscape, which are subsequently turned off. Then on. And off again...

"Those are the soldiers." Kelso points out to you. A good deal of them too, and approaching quickly on more than one side. The lights seem to travel in groups. You count... Eight groups of five. You wonder how many you can take, and in turn how much more Kelso could.

"So, what's the plan?"

"We capture one and hightail it out of here. This... Is going to be challenging."

Your mentor stands up, watching the approaching mob of Zealots. Two or three are way off, lighting up the opposite direction, but the rest are surrounding your vicinity, though you're uncertain if that's on purpose or not. Kelso motions you to come closer to him, to listen. "This is where we split up. They're trying to flank us, but that won't work when they're spread out like this. We're, funnily enough, a straight, though long line away from the city. The lights are moving toward us, and with other groups closing in from the two sides; a circle. I go one way, you go the other."

"Like we trained, I hit hared and fast."

He nods. "Let's get to it then. Good luck, kid." He begins jogging to the left. It's when he breaks out into a run when you only begin moving leftwards. For the first time since you escaped the Facility, you're scared. You sprint across the sand with your head down, maintaining balance and stealth even with your heavy armor. You ready yourself, the lights shining brighter and brighter until... You see them. Tall, thick, dark; the words that come to mind. Shining Crosses on ebony metal that covers the entire body, down to the legs. His helmet's visor is like a medieval knight's, only more techy. Not only that, but their rifles are huge, with tusks at the end. You wonder what caliber that behemoth could hold...

Still, you have the element of surprise, if only because you aren't a lightbulb shaped a like freaking cross.

You leap up, letting a gust of wind propel you, making a cross of your own in the night-sky, Your body finds itself right above the ringleader, who dumbly looks up when your feet, disguised as sneakers, land on his  helmet. A heavy clunking sound is made before you hear a snap (his neck), which you use for momentum, jumping at another, this time with your fists. Refined rage, like Kelso taught you.

It was going fine until bullets came into the picture. After the second clunk the last three of the group turn and point their bayonets-on-crack rifles at you. What comes out isn't a bullet, more like... Lightning?

It bursts out at you with a mighty roar, and you feel your skin ripping, only to regenerate. Three more blasts, you make another swipe, hitting viciously through the armor of one, finishing him off with blood. Three (who were shooting at you) to go.

They reload, which thankfully takes enough time. One of them doesn't bother, however, and stick the tusks of his rifle into you. Some of your blood spills, and even more of his bursts out when you push his rifle from inside you to inside of him, his armor nothing when your rage takes over. With blood squirting into your eyes, the rest are easy work. You claw at the armored figures, their lightning-shots hurting you but not overcoming you until... You're done. Five of them were killed, and you don't even remember how the last one went down. You lay on the sand, too stunned to move.

More of the Crosses come over to belt you over the head with what must be a bible, because damn was it heavy.

---

Even more bright lights (a recurring theme, you tell yourself), and you find yourself strapped onto a chair. The room is all blue, but your chair is white. For whatever reason, the colors seem pleasant, and calming to you. You wonder what happened to Kelso...

A powerful voice speaks out, "Who are you?"
> You reply sarcastically.
"A heathen, no doubt." You manage to spit out, angrily.

"Not a heathen, an abomination. There is a difference." The voice is male, and older. "But I don't wish to quell your anger, as you are no doubt misguided. Worry not, we shall end your suffering."

"Thanks, I wouldn't want to be a burden."

He laughs. "You are a funny devil alright, but one who deserves an explanation, if he wants one." Gears grind, causing your ears to sting while a shaft opens up in the blue room. An old man in a priestly garb and a skullcap comes out, an inviting though intimidating aura around him. "Do you wish to know why you're here? What the Church's mission is?"

You stare at the man. "What's the point if you're just going to kill me right after?"

"Us antagonists like our monologs, do we not? You'd know, for I am only part of the lesser evil. So, if you please, allow me to explain why the verdict is so grim for one with such oratory abilities, like yourself."

You nod to the bizarre old man, "Sure... But not before you tell me where my mentor is."

"Hmm?"

"Kelso."

"Doesn't ring any bells. Can we go on?" He says, looking at his watch.

He's not even wearing a watch! You sigh, "You really want to tell me the story then, huh."

The pruned holy-man beams, "Why yes!"

A long pause erupts. And you wait for the priest to tell you. He begins to cough, and cough... By now you're just irked, stuck in a room with a senile wackjob. It's surprising that he's your interrogator. "So."

"Ah yes. On the first day," His large dark eyes twinkle, "of the new Era, the world began to sink. Horrible diseases and militant radicals swept through different parts of the globe. Coincidentally, this all began after marriage became void and immorality was embraced." He shakes his head, "Regardless, Simon Kurschner created his Program, with the government's support, and using the dead and dying as test subjects, he claimed that he wished to stop disease and create perfect soldiers as well. At the time, it sounded ludicrous; like a comic book. But the world governments were desperate, and he received the funding. The second day was much darker, with the disease spreading rapidly before Kurschner's lab was even finished. By the time it was done, he petitioned for less regulation, and that's when it began. There would be no stopping what he began to create. Worse than the viruses which wiped out humanity; a God's flood. This... you, are different, unnatural. Third day came and Simon sent a crew of his deathless zombies, which survived the disease under his care, to deal with military conflicts all over the world. The fact that it succeeded so well was a curse, as he gained more support. By the 4rth day he had thousands of Creations under his disposal. And who didn't trust him? The religious, the so-called 'supersticious' Church." He spits, getting emotional during his obviously summarized tale, "5th Day, his Creations began fighting against the world, rather than with them against evil. One experiment could take on hundreds of regular soldiers alone, and so they laid waste, all while Simon was living the good life. Then, what do you know, the diseases evolved, went airborn, killed everyone but the faithful, those who stayed in the First Chapel. The Earth was dying, as God didn't want it to continue as it did, and only two groups survived; the Zealots, and the Creations. The next day involved war. W wanting to e slowly began building society back up, getting stronger technology and a bigger community. But it was not enough, and the Creations spread us weak and thin. But we're growing, and the Creations are now on the run, no doubt split between wanting to kill us or the Professor, who got them into this mess. Everything with them is 'kill', for they are demon-spawn.''

He notices your eyese rolling and then bends down to your level, "Look at you, boy, blood on his lips and unrelenting anger. This is mercy, to end your cursed life. As now, on the 7th day, we shall put all of the cursed to rest. They may resist, but we will go out of our way to end them."

You take a deep breath, taking all of this in. There isn't that much to say, and you realize how much fragments you still don't know. There has to be more to this, though you're not sure why...

"Dramatic, no?" He nods, continuing. "Which makes me wonder where you fit into all of this. You don't have a name do you?"

"Uh, no, I can't remember anything from before my awakening."

The Father frowned, "Hmm, you must have been one of the last experiments if you're so young. Very well then, good night, I'm afraid. May God have mercy on your soul..." He turns to leave.

"Wait, you're killing me after all that?!? Come back here! I'm sentient, I'm human, just like YOU!" You yell, struggling at the immobile chair.

He doesn't answer. A quick, firey death unexpectedly follows, your seat spewing out bursts of flame, charring through your body and burning your soul to a crisp. Red, then all black.

You have died by the hands of the Church.