Interrogation Room A-5

Tall Guy lowered the handgun with hardened, unblinking eyes. The young man's- the creature's- paralyzed body stiffened, shuddered and slouched back into the chair, its head limply lolling down and to the side.

Drip... Drip...

Thick, dark globules of blackened blood slowly dripped from the creature's forehead and onto its pants and the floor.

"What the fuck was that, huh?" Short Guy angrily spat at the man beside him, motioning with the long dagger- its movements causing small reflections of the overhead light to play across its surface.

"Felt right. Now do it- we have to go." Tall Guy said, then added "I've got the camera," as he turned and walked beneath the camera in the corner of the room while holstering his handgun.

Short Guy's lips twisted as though lemon juice was forced down his throat but nevertheless walked over to stand beside the vampire's body.

"Disgusting filth..." Short Guy sniffed, his lips curled into a grimace as he forcefully grabbed a handful of the corpse's hair and yanking its head over the back of the chair. The corpse's arms were hanging at its sides beyond chair's edges, legs folded awkwardly beneath one another, its chest angled up and out- exposing the heart.

Meanwhile, Tall Guy removed a foot-long, matte black cylinder and pulled out one of the ends, causing another foot of the cylinder to extend out- the new length tapering to a small, magnetized cap. He reached up and placed the cap onto the flat, circular device and slowly pulled it off the edge of the camera's chassis. He caught the device as it fell and pocketed it into one of the pouches at his belt before closing the magnetized rod and slipping it onto a small catch on his right hip.

He turned to Short Guy and said, "Got it. Thirty Seconds."

"If only we had more..." Short Guy softly mumbled, placing the tip of the dagger against the skin over the corpse's heart with a white-knuckled grip and applying pressure. A bead of blood welled around the blade's tip as it broke skin. Short Guy crouched down so he was speaking into the corpse's ear.

"Do you feel it, vampire?" The blade sank half-an-inch deeper. A steady trickle of blood wove around the blade, streaming down the corpse's chest. The body did not move.

Anger flashed in Short Guy's eyes. "I know you can hear me. You know you're about to die, right?"

"Twenty-three seconds- what are you doing, we have to go!" Tall Guy harshly whispered, walking to stand beside the door and beckoning his partner to follow.

Short Guy pretended not to hear anything. Tall Guy grew annoyed and anxious, standing closer to the door and nearly pressing his ear to the surface to hear through it. He could hear some commotion.

He looked back, panic gleaming in his eyes, "They're coming- five seconds."

"I'll see you in hell." Short Guy promised, tightening his grip and sinking the blade deeper.

Tall Guy pressed his ear to the door. The commotion was definitely closer. They needed to get out of the room and blend-in as soon as-

Sch...lick- CRA...CK!

The sound of metal cutting and sinking into flesh. Bones breaking. Gurgling.

'Nasty business, but necessary.' Tall Guy thought, straining his hearing to determine when they needed to bail. Footfalls and urgent conversation.

He turned, "Alright, let's-" the words caught in his throat as his pupils shrank into pin pricks and all the hair on his body stood on end as a cold twinge ran down his spine.

The vampire had its left hand on Short Guy's shoulder, and in its right was the dagger that was previously digging into its chest. The entire length of the blade was driven through the side of Short Guy's neck, penetrating up to the handle and dripping bright-red blood onto the floor from the tip. Short Guy's body was violently spasming in its death throes, his knees shaking as they barely supported him and his hands futilely beat against the vampire's bloodied chest. The blows were reflexive, weak. Like frightened prey that didn't understand- couldn't understand... that it was already dead.

The vampire silently cocked its head to the side, its masculine features expressionless, its unblinking, grey eyes silently regarding the struggling thing in its grasp. It stared into Short Guy's eyes, waiting for the flickering light behind his eyes to extinguish.

"Mother-" Tall Guy frantically unholstered his handgun and brought it to bear onto the vampire's head, unloading two rounds in a heartbeat.

A blur- one round tore into Short Guy's unarmored left shoulder- causing him to jerk in the vampire's grasp and also eliciting a grotesque, bubbling grunt from his ruined throat. The second round was caught by the vest. The vampire slowly stood up out of the chair, forcing Short Guy to frantically gurgle and struggle to rise with him as he held onto the vampire's right forearm.

'Shitshitshitshit-' Tall Guy's shock and panic turned into a severe expression of concentration on his face as he carefully moved sideways and rapidly unloaded another three rounds. He decided to offer his partner a mercy killing, aiming for his throat and hoping that the rounds would penetrate.

However, his eyes widened the next moment as the vampire easily lifted Short Guy into the air, letting the rounds pound into the vest covering his back. Blood was leaking down Short Guys pants and pooling on the floor while also spurting across the vampire's face. It showed no reaction. Instead, it suddenly wrenched the dagger inside Short Guy's throat, eliciting more sickening cracks and wet snapping sounds of ligaments and tendons brutally tearing before it jerked the dagger out, spraying a bloody arc across the adjacent wall like a grotesque parody of abstract art.

Tall Guy dropped his left hand down to his utility belt for his own dagger, while single-handedly firing with his dominant hand. His left palm managed to touch the dagger's hilt before an iron grip suddenly wrapped around his right hand, jerking his entire arm up as his hand and fingers were painfully trapped against the handgun's frame. Then, he was suddenly slightly looking down into a pair of dead, emotionless eyes.

The pressure became unbearable. His fingers slowly, individually broke beneath the strain. A pained cry escaped his throat as the handgun discharged once... twice... into the ceiling.

'I'm going to die.' A disturbing peace settled behind Tall Guy's eyes as he locked gazes with the vampire- catching sight of the bullet wound in its forehead slowly sealing as bone fragments dug themselves of out the brain and skin knit itself together.

He didn't try for the dagger- it was pointless. They were a tool of finishing off a vampire, never for engaging in close combat. The pain in his completely crushed right hand grew warm, numb.

"I meant what I said." Tall Guy said without flinching, though it still took some effort not to gasp. Bearing pain, and ignoring it, were different concepts.

He moved his left hand away from the dagger's hilt and to a small rectangular device on the belt. He pressed a button. A small red light flicked on.

'Someone else will finish the job.' He just needed to stall for a bit longer.

"I've got no regrets- but you?" Tall Guy's voice took on confident tone. "You'll look back-" his voice morphed into an agonized scream as the vampire barred its fangs and ripped into the side of his throat. Gulping. Screaming. Blood.

"Hurry it up, Fleury!" shouted Carilas, jogging past confused constables and almost knocking a cup of steaming coffee and doughnut out of some poor officer who was sleepily shuffling out of the lounge.

Joshua followed close behind, the pair bolting through doors, turning corners, and finally bursting into the interrogation hall's corridor that connected the two areas.

"Come on, let's-" Carilas's voice was suddenly drowned out as the door at the end of the corridor blew off its hinges in a hail of wooden shrapnel and metallic fragments, smashing into the corridor wall opposite it and denting it like paper mache.

"Jesus Christ!"

"Fucking what?!"

"Ah-god!"

A veritable storm of curses and unintelligible shouts of confusion rang out on either side of the corridor as some officers frantically whipped around in the direction of the sound, while others reflexively dove behind the nearest cover.

Carilas stood a few steps further into the corridor than Joshua, both men frozen as they stared intently down the corridor.

Crunch. Crunch. CRUNCH.

Emerson Rivers stepped out of the room, his shoes crushing wooden fragments littered across the linoleum flooring. He stood sideways in the corridor, facing the ruined wall as though inspecting it.

"Laberge..." Joshua slowly said, urgency coating his words. He almost took a step back. His instincts were urging him to run in the other direction. But he dismissed them through a force of will and years of discipline.

"I see it." Carilas replied, his words heavy.

The man held a silenced Glock 19 in his right hand, and what looked like the length of a bloodied dagger poked around his left thigh, indicating he was holding it in his left hand. His clothing was coated in fresh blood.

"Mr. Rivers!" Carilas shouted down the hall.

Emerson's head turned toward the sound, his body following the motion a second later. It was profoundly eerie. And turned disturbing when both men noticed the blood coating his face from the mouth, down.

Carilas placed a hand on his side, resting on his holster and said, "Alright... Mr. Rivers... Emerson... I need you to put down the gun and knife- immediately." He spoke slowly, but firmly, as though coaxing a wild animal. "Then, I need you to turn around, get on your knees, interlock your-"

THWIPTHWIPTHWIPTHWIP

Carilas's head jerked sideways as he staggered backwards and bodily slammed into Joshua, sending the pair sprawling across the floor. The next moment, both doors at the ends of the corridor slammed open as three officers stacked up against the door frame closer to the downed Carilas and Joshua, while two did the same closer to Emerson, their handguns aiming into the hall as they all shouted over one another.

"Get down!"

"On your knees!"

"Watch the crossfire!"

That was when they noticed two of their superiors were on the floor, one grimacing and clutching a bleeding shoulder. Blood was pooling on the floor beneath his neck.

"Weapons free!"

"We've got shots-open fire!"

"Got it!"

A single thunderclap sounded throughout the corridor, coinciding with Emerson's staggering back one step as a puff of blood burst from his right pectoral. He didn't make a sound. He didn't move otherwise. But his eyes did lock onto the officer who'd shot him.

"What in the-"

"Christ Almighty..."

"He's on something-"

THWIPTHWIPTHWIP

Despite every eye being on Emerson, no one saw him raise the handgun, but everyone heard the shots. And the two officers behind Carilas and Joshua felt the shots. The pair cried out in surprise as hammers were slammed into their chests.

"Watch out!" came a cry from down the corridor as the officers helplessly watched a knife-and-gun wielding, homicidal drug addict rush away from them. Towards the others. And they couldn't shoot for fear of hitting one of their own! They inwardly cursed themselves and their non-existent confidence in their accuracy as the two men tacitly agreed with a glance and entered the corridor, guns held straight up and in front.

The five policemen across the corridor watched in fascinated horror and moderate disbelief as Emerson was one moment standing over fifteen meters away, and was now only a meter away- his blood drenched clothes, vacant gaze, and expressionless face would have sent shivers down their backs. If they had time to react, that was. Which they didn't. Because the moment their minds registered Emerson standing beside their two superiors, he'd already fired.

THWIPTHWIPTHWIPTHWIP

This time, since he was significantly closer, he didn't miss. Two of the constables stacked up against the door frame screamed as the hands holding their guns burst into a grisly mess of blood and bone. While one round grazed the cheek of the third officer, who reflexively discharged his pistol and managed to catch Emerson in the stomach. The officer didn't notice, however, because the final round caught him in the shoulder of his gun hand, causing him to shout and drop the weapon. And before the officer's gun even fell to the floor, Emerson had already pivoted and plunged the dagger down into the top of Joshua's head, sinking the blade's entire length into his skull, the base of the cross-guard cracking bone. With a twisting flourish, Emerson yanked the dagger out- Joshua's twitching corpse unceremoniously sprawling across the floor and spasming like a fish out of water as errant impulses surged through his muscles. Blood and brain matter seeped out the gash in the top of his skull, though slowly because his thick hair caught most of it.

Carilas didn't have time to move or make anything other than a gasp of pure terror before a fist caught him in the side of the head- dislocating his jaw, fracturing his eye socket, and sending a tooth and spray of blood into the wall. Then he felt nothing but numbness and warmth as his higher functions shut down from the overwhelming pain and shock. Then he felt nothing at all after something cold slid across his throat.

The corridor was filled with the sounds of gunfire and angry shouts as the two trailing officers finally caught up. And after dazedly witnessing the casual murder of two of the most respected policemen in precinct history, the pair simply opened fire since the hallway was clear and the other officers were no longer stacked against the opposite door. Emerson staggered forward as four rounds slammed into his back, sending small puffs of blood and clothing into the air before his figure blurred as though he were a distant mirage on a sweltering summer day.

The closest officer was suddenly face to face with Emerson. He felt something press against the bottom of his jaw.

THWIP

The officer instantly died- blood, bone, and brain matter bursting from his mouth, nose, and the ragged hole in the top of his head. Emerson stared into the dead man's shrunken pupils until blood started seeping from the corners of his eyes like tears. Then he grabbed both sides of his head and twisted, snapping the man's neck completely around to face the other officer. The other constable incoherently screamed and just started randomly firing in Emerson's direction. Most of the bullets tore into the corpse of the other officer, either striking the vest, neck, or blowing another hole in his head. Then the body started falling backward... forward?

The officer's wild, crazed eyes looked everywhere but couldn't find the murderer. Breathing heavily, he ejected the empty magazine in his handgun and fumbled with the spare in his belt pouch before sliding it home and racking the slide- frantically looking around the entire time. Then the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. He spun around, holding the handgun at waist height and found himself standing nearly eye-to-eye with Emerson. He fired.

The bright muzzle flash between the two men illuminated their clothing, highlighting the clean pressed, modern policeman's uniform, and the blood soaked, ragged clothing on Emerson. The officer's ears rang like a bad phone dial on 4x speed. He didn't notice. He didn't care. He was staring into the grey, lifeless eyes of the man in front of him. Emerson sank the dagger into the man's stomach. The man gasped between gritted teeth as agony bloomed through his whole abdomen and blood started soaking his dress shirt. Emerson silently regarded him. He fired again.

Emerson didn't move. Didn't flinch. Didn't even blink.

The officer's eyes widened.

'This isn't possible.'

He fired again. And again. And again. Each squeeze of the trigger brought a bright flash of fire, the roar of thunder, and the musty, sulfuric smell of spent gunpowder.

Emerson cocked his head to the side. Then reversed his grip on the dagger and slowly dragged it across the officer's upper abdomen.

The officer's mouth opened wide in a silent scream of pure agony as he felt the blade deep inside his torso, almost deep enough to apply a mild pressure to his spine. He dropped the gun. He couldn't think. There was only pain. He thought he was screaming- his throat was vibrating and also hurt. But he couldn't hear anything over the ringing in his ears. He felt the blade pull out. He looked down to see some deep-red coils peeking out of the massive gash across his abdomen.

'Are those-' That was the last incomplete thought the officer possessed before the shock, trauma, and blood loss made his eyes roll up into his head. He fell to his knees, the jarring impact causing more of his small intestines to spill out before he fell onto his face and lay still. Blood immediately spread out beneath him in a thick, lazy puddle. Emerson impassively watched the body collapse to the floor. Then looked up at the three surviving officers. The trio almost pissed themselves and immediately spun around, tripping over one another and shouting in pain as they aggravated their wounds or held their lacerated hands and stumbled into one another or crashed into the walls as they fled.

Beautiful, dark laughter echoed in Emerson's ears. A small, gentle hand rested between his shoulder blades. Lips beside his ear, breath tickling his thoughts.

'Keep going, handsome...'

Emerson's previously expressionless face twitched and something flashed in his eyes- flecks of red shone within his grey irises. A low, deep growl reverberated deep in his chest as the strangely familiar woman's voice stoked the flames of a newly born instinct to chase. To feed. To kill. To HUNT.

His heart thumped. He moved.

An ear piercing shriek of pain and confusion echoed throughout the precinct. Two of the officers scrambling away reflexively looked back. And instantly regretted it.

The constable who'd been lagging behind was clutching a bloodied hand protruding from his chest. The hand was covered in viscera, chunky blood, and a still-twitching, shredded heart spilling ungodly amounts of blood onto the floor. The officer's face was frozen in a grotesque rictus of disbelief and terror as he weakly pawed at the wrist sticking out of his chest. Then he died. His whole body suddenly going limp as his brain shut down.

One of the watching officers was completely frozen in place, his feet rooted to the spot as he uncontrollably shook. The other officer took one faltering step back- profound fear etched into his face- then another, and another, before suddenly whipping around and crashing into a desk as he clumsily sprinted away as fast as humanely possible. The gear on his person jingling and shaking as it slapped against him and other things he ran into on his way to the nearest exit.

Emerson's other hand pushed the constable's corpse off his other hand holding the heart, which crushed into a goopy slush that sloughed to the floor between his fingers. Then he blurred and appeared in front of the silent, trembling officer. His emotionless eyes bore into the other man's mind.

'He wants to die... grant him... release...' a beautiful voice with positively ludicrous sexual undertones whispered in Emerson's ear.

The red flecks in his grey eyes flashed.

The officer suddenly found himself lost in Emerson's eyes. The officer's vision tunneled, completely narrowing until he felt like he was falling through an endless, dark tunnel until suddenly, he wasn't. He stood in a dark, blank space. He wanted nothing more than to sleep. Yes, he wanted to sleep. but how? How could he sleep? And then, he was looking at his twin. Another him stood directly in front of him. It smiled warmly and pointed at his hip. He looked down and saw the butt of his handgun. He looked up. His doppelganger's smile widened, then it nodded. A smile bloomed across his own face, and he nodded in return.

'Thanks, friend.' And without any hesitation, he removed his gun, placed the barrel to the side of his head, and pulled the trigger.

Blood sprayed across a desk- covering an empty mug, some paperwork and a keyboard.

Emerson deftly snaked the gun out body's limp grip, allowing it to collapse.

He stepped over the corpse, leaving a trail of bloody footprints as he silently pursued his prey.