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Survivor00
Star
- Joined
- Jan 9, 2009
New Orleans, November 1995
9:16 PM
A flash of lightning split the sky, followed quickly by a peal of thunder that rattled nearly every window in the city. The rain fell in heavy sheets, as if the sky itself was trying to drown the world. Adrian Cross rushed through the door of the hotel, sopping wet, clutching a duffel bag to his chest as though his life depended on it. He checked it quickly, to see if it had remained dry. Fortunately, there were only a few damp patches, none big enough to damage any of the bagâ??s contents. His shoes squished against the tile floor as he trudged into the lobby, dripping water. He had run across nearly half the city to beat the storm, only to have it catch him a few blocks from the building.
He sighed, walking over to the elevators and pressing the call button. Today hadnâ??t gone as well as he would have hoped. He had spent hours combing over books in a dusty old library for the information he was looking for, but he had only found a few scraps of information, nothing concrete, nothing that would benefit him in finding her. The elevator chimed softly as it arrived, and he slipped in between the sliding doors, hitting the button for his floor. He leaned against the wall of the elevator as it rose, looking at the bag beside him. One photograph. That was all it took to ensnare him.
The doors parted at his floor and he walked quickly to his room. He fished his keycard from his damp pocket and let himself in, closing the door behind him. He shucked off his shoes and set the bag gently on the bed before changing into some warmer, dryer clothes. Once that matter was taken care of, he walked back over to the bed and opened the back, removing what was inside it. He had taken several photographs of what he had found, as well as some written copies, just in case. He lifted an old, leather-bound book, handling it as if it would crumble to dust if he held it wrong.
His grandfatherâ??s journal.
He had found it while browsing through the attic some time ago, covered in dust and forgotten to time. On its pages chronicled events that would forever change Adrianâ??s life, and it all started with that photographâ?¦
His grandfather had been a war photographer back in World War II, and while none of his photographs ever made it to the front page, the image inside was far more interesting than anything else. The black and white photograph showed a svelte woman in a black leather corset, walking calmly away from a German halftrack, the soldiersâ?? dismembered remains smeared against the grey metal. Two intricate and deadly-looking blades were affixed to her wrists, still dripping the blood of her victims. While he could not see her face, he knew she must be beautifulâ?¦
His grandfather, too, had shared his obsession. The journal had his grandfatherâ??s notes as well, strange words, such as dhampire, or Brimstone Society, these words were circled in red ink, as well as a single name. Rayneâ?¦ But the woman was more elusive than a phantom. He had scoured libraries and archives all over the world, and yet he could only find enough to prove she existed. And the â??Brimstone Societyâ?? that his grandfather had mentioned was even harder to find anything onâ?¦
Adrian placed the sheets of paper he had gathered in a manila folder, before placing his wallet in his pocket. He needed a drinkâ?¦
9:16 PM
A flash of lightning split the sky, followed quickly by a peal of thunder that rattled nearly every window in the city. The rain fell in heavy sheets, as if the sky itself was trying to drown the world. Adrian Cross rushed through the door of the hotel, sopping wet, clutching a duffel bag to his chest as though his life depended on it. He checked it quickly, to see if it had remained dry. Fortunately, there were only a few damp patches, none big enough to damage any of the bagâ??s contents. His shoes squished against the tile floor as he trudged into the lobby, dripping water. He had run across nearly half the city to beat the storm, only to have it catch him a few blocks from the building.
He sighed, walking over to the elevators and pressing the call button. Today hadnâ??t gone as well as he would have hoped. He had spent hours combing over books in a dusty old library for the information he was looking for, but he had only found a few scraps of information, nothing concrete, nothing that would benefit him in finding her. The elevator chimed softly as it arrived, and he slipped in between the sliding doors, hitting the button for his floor. He leaned against the wall of the elevator as it rose, looking at the bag beside him. One photograph. That was all it took to ensnare him.
The doors parted at his floor and he walked quickly to his room. He fished his keycard from his damp pocket and let himself in, closing the door behind him. He shucked off his shoes and set the bag gently on the bed before changing into some warmer, dryer clothes. Once that matter was taken care of, he walked back over to the bed and opened the back, removing what was inside it. He had taken several photographs of what he had found, as well as some written copies, just in case. He lifted an old, leather-bound book, handling it as if it would crumble to dust if he held it wrong.
His grandfatherâ??s journal.
He had found it while browsing through the attic some time ago, covered in dust and forgotten to time. On its pages chronicled events that would forever change Adrianâ??s life, and it all started with that photographâ?¦
His grandfather had been a war photographer back in World War II, and while none of his photographs ever made it to the front page, the image inside was far more interesting than anything else. The black and white photograph showed a svelte woman in a black leather corset, walking calmly away from a German halftrack, the soldiersâ?? dismembered remains smeared against the grey metal. Two intricate and deadly-looking blades were affixed to her wrists, still dripping the blood of her victims. While he could not see her face, he knew she must be beautifulâ?¦
His grandfather, too, had shared his obsession. The journal had his grandfatherâ??s notes as well, strange words, such as dhampire, or Brimstone Society, these words were circled in red ink, as well as a single name. Rayneâ?¦ But the woman was more elusive than a phantom. He had scoured libraries and archives all over the world, and yet he could only find enough to prove she existed. And the â??Brimstone Societyâ?? that his grandfather had mentioned was even harder to find anything onâ?¦
Adrian placed the sheets of paper he had gathered in a manila folder, before placing his wallet in his pocket. He needed a drinkâ?¦