<span class="bbc_u"><em><strong>Two Thousand Years Ago</strong></em></span><br/><br/>Xenlia viciously ate at the young boy's neck, having been driven crazy with hunger. The boy lay in a pool of his own his blood, his body twitching slightly. "There he is!" "Oh my god!" "He killed him!" Were some of the things they shouted. Xenlia Moigrin was one of the few vampires in existence. He growled at the crowd of people, who were dressed in mere rags. "Get away from me he growled." They began to close in with their makeshift weapons, the immense heat of the summer bringing sweat to their brow. He growled out at them, retreating slowly. He stood to full length, blood lust in his eyes. "Get him!" One of the men shouted.<br/><br/><strong><em><span class="bbc_u">Florence, During the Renaissance</span></em></strong><br/><br/>David Gilor'e was dancing heartily with a woman, who was adorned in a masquerade mask. Fireworks burst in the night sky, casting a light over the woman's beautiful figure. "You are quite the dancer!" She complimented in Italian, a laugh drawing from her body. He swooped her down expertly, and spoke in his soprano voice. "You aren't bad yourself, ma'am." He responded. Later that night, David and the woman were alone in an ally away from the closing celebration. "You're so bad!" She laughed, her exquisite accent and the beauty of the language ringing in David's ears. He drew her close, placing a kiss on her lips. Slowly, he began kissing down her neck passionately. "You're beautiful, you know that?" He asked in italian. She laughed bashfully as he stopped at the base of her neck.<br/><br/>He continued to kiss, leading her back to his place for some fun.<br/><br/><span class="bbc_u"><em><strong>Iceland</strong></em></span><br/><br/>It was about this time that he missed Florence, Italy. Those were excellent times, but now long gone. Hundreds of years. Now he was on the run, the first time in his life that he was in danger of dying. He fell to the ground, rolling and sprawling out. He quickly gained to his feet, running through the plain, mountains to either side of him. Blood trickled from his arm, and he was dangerously close to passing out. "He's over here!" One of the men shouted in their native tongue. Masik Guriela stumbled again, but keeping her footing. "Kill him! Kill him! Kill Cruor Perussi!" He shouted.<br/><br/><span class="bbc_u"><em><strong>Present Day, New York</strong></em></span><br/><br/>"Cruor Perussi; Blood Consumer..." Chris pondered. "One of the oldest vampires of all time." he reflected. "Right under the nose of everyone. And they don't even know. Leon god damn Brentwood...if he keeps digging he's going to know that Cruor Perussi never died so long ago in Iceland. He became Daybreaker. Lying to Darien wasn't anything big to him; he lied all the time. He had to to live. If anyone were to figure out that the fabled Cruor Perussi was still alive, they would hunt him relentlessly.<br/><br/>"Leon god damn Brentwood..."