That Night...?

[Alex Mercer]

The battle was over. Mercer had taken a bit of a beating, but not enough to finish off one pustule pocked peasant. Even as the ax was wrenched from his ally, Falk saw the flash of the grotesque claws rise and then fall in a quick flurry of blows. The wood of the ax was sliced into bits with all the force Mercer put into the swing of his right hand. Sickly pale blood spilled as Falk fell backwards. Even before his back hit the ground, Mercer follows up with another strike, aimed for the same three gashes.

With the mirrored strokes and the advantage of surprise to his aid, Mercer stood over the bits of the last pale-blooded hunter. His claws flick, slinging the putrid ooze into the splotches of biomass stained blood. Already, his lesser wounds were beginning to heal and even the gash in his leg was beginning to stitch itself back together. It was not nearly as fast as it once would have been. It might take hours to fully recover at this rate. "Pathetic." The slander was growled under his breath.

The Prototype watched as his arms slowly transformed back into their normal forms. The leather of his jacket was unchanged, and his pale fingers looked far too human. There still lingered a stain of white against his dark sleeves. Turning towards the house, he decided to wipe away the mess instead of absorbing it. In his weakened state, he was not too sure he could overpower whatever disease these men had, or what would come with such an affliction.

Jacob stood on the porch. The boy's arm was normal and he looked worried. "Why... why did they attack you? Why did you ..." Great.

"I don't know why they attacked me... but they did so with the intent to kill. This... was survival." He did not feign ignorance to his actions, or remorse for slaughtering the men. The walking virus stepped up onto the porch and brushed past Jacob. "Everything I do is about survival..." This much was absolutely true. He walked through the door, peering around at the blood splatters from the rather messy hammerfist consumption. Learn from this... This is what gave me away. He had to be more careful. Thanks to this sloppiness, someone already knew of his presence here - and worse, they escaped.

Jacob followed after Mercer like a lost puppy. He knew that this man had saved his life, given him new power, a means to fight back against the atrocities in the Moors, but he also saw this man cut down two of the hunters that had only the same goal. Every glance Mercer gave the boy he could read it on the youth's face. He was trying to piece together why they would attack, why his savior cut them down so brutally.

Flopping onto the very same couch he had killed the family on, Mercer released a heavy sigh. "Listen... This place seems to be a dark one... Monsters roam the thing and these..." What was it Badrun called them? "Vampires... They turn people into them and kill many others, right? Well... Those women killed your family... I happened by to spare your life, but in doing so I turned you into ... well, I turned you into something like me..."


Given more pieces to the puzzle, Jacob slowly started putting them together. The puzzle was warped, thanks to Mercer's words, but it formed at least a vague picture. "So they... they thought you and I were... vampires?"

"Or something of the sort. Monsters of the Moors... Just another foul creature roaming about, intent on inflicting death... If it isn't obvious, I'm what you would call a Prime... a new one... so they had no idea who or what I was. Thanks to their fear and hasty actions, I'm now exactly what they thought I was." Mercer was blunt, painting on lie after lie. Half-truths, he reminded himself. He was a monster from their perspectives, and rightly so. Sometimes, even he thought of himself as a plague upon humanity.

Another sigh and a wave of his hands, Mercer changed the subject. "Go eat. Your metabolism is much higher now, if you don't eat you'll start feeling sick." Mercer was sprawled out on the deep seated couch, head laid back and eyes closed. This was not how he intended to go about things. At least now he had information aplenty rattling about in the back of his mind. All he needed was to focus and retrieve it. "I'm going to sleep... We'll talk more in the morning."

The boy still stood at the front door. The sight of the blood of his family horrified him. Mercer was far too calm for this situation. It was obvious this was not his first time in such a dark situation, and seeing as that one man had escaped, it would not be his last. "Did... Am I the reason you're in danger now?" The hunters did not give up, his savior was undoubtedly going to be on their watch list. "If you hadn't come here to save me, you wouldn't have met them."

His thoughts were disturbed. Lifting his head, Mercer peered at Jacob with confusion. It had been a while since a stranger had worried about him. "It's... alright... You can make it up to me by helping me when I need it..." His head drops back to the cushion. "And to be fair, they now think you're a monster too... I'd say we're both in deep shit..."

Jacob's frown turned to a grimace. His uncle sought to protect the people of the Moors. How would he feel when he hears his nephew was one of them? Heartbroken, no doubt. Hatred. Anger. "Maybe I can convince them we're not bad..."

"Maybe..." Mercer tried to sound tired. He did not normally need to sleep, but he needed to concentrate. Jacob's emotional turmoil and hopefulness were only distracting him. Alex had to prepare for the nightmare of psychological pain that was about to come. Jacob finally understood his intentions, luckily for Mercer, and walked into the kitchen. Mercer could almost hear the heartbreak when he saw the blood puddle on the ground.