Present Day, Island near Costa Rica

Like a god, a title I rightfully deserve, I was murdered and resurrected. The words uttered before my passing echo throughout my head still to this day. That could be attributed to the fact that on that day, when I met him my salvation and damnation were fated as one. For all of eternity I am doomed to chase that which I so vigorously sought with my mortal soul, the mutant gene. The lycanthropic curse. Noble Kale appeared on the dark eve and gave me continued life, rescued me from the apocalypse, for that I am regretfully thankful, but by the same gift, I was given eternity, the most despicable gift one can receive when haunted by his own ghosts. Until the world ceases to exist, I shall stalk the night with a spirited vengeance, hunting my murderer and the gene that bore him. I am a Sinister creature.

"Lord Sinister, what troubles you?" A soft feminine voice echoed through Sinister's retrospective thoughts, whisking them away.

It was the pleasingly sensual tone of Jennifer Kale, ancestor of Noble, offered up to Essex as a consort and female companion over the years as he would become Sinister. Sinister found great irony that he had been slandered as a witch in his mortal days and that his only companion that would last eternally with him was one in truth.

She paced up to Sinister and placed a warm palm to his black lips, a reflection of the evil inside, bestowed upon him by Noble. Sinister craned his neck to stare up at her beautiful and youthful face, still young after centuries. He then jerked away.

"How can you love me?" he asked, feeling like a scorned beast.

"Because Lord, It is my duty," Kale replied warmly, as best her impolite words would allow.

"I am hideous. This dead white skin, night black lips, fiery red eyes…crimson mark to remind me every waking minute that I am selfish and broken! How can I love myself?" Sinister's question changed audience.

"Dear lover. This time alone with your past is haunting you. Let me take you away to our bed. You will think clearer then," Kale offered.

"No! Leave me whore! I have matters to tend!" Sinister raged.

Jennifer left him defiantly as demanded, sulking as she left, shoving the door shut with a violent streak as she exited. Sinister reclined back into his sturdy oak chair monitoring the moon afflicted night sky beyond his massive fortress. The next day would be laborious, in the sin filled concrete jungle of Los Angeles; Sinister had a meeting, with a mutant.

"Come on now blood suckers, you bitches gettin' slower, or am I getting quicker?" the cut and trim African American taunted.

A pale skinned and gothic black dressed beast lunged at the man who met him an upward slash of his katana blade, wrapping the creature around it and splitting it into two. Blood from the halving splashed in two directions, staining the cold parking garage cement floors red.
He was encircled by them, ten, twenty, more. All the same breed of parasitic scourge, hell bent on one thing, his destruction. The blood tainted silver blade in his hand was not sufficient, while he could abate the evils momentarily; waves of their brothers kept pouring down upon him. For each creature that lost their pasty blood-lusting head, or took silver deep inside the caverns of their hearts a new one would fall from the midnight sky.

A single creature leapt from the surrounding landscape of its brethren, lunging for their hunter. His sword was sheathed, freeing his right hand, which swept to his back, freeing a Mark 23 pistol from his waist. With his left hand he halted the beast, using his animalistic strength to hold the creature in place with his open palm on its forehead. His gun in hand, he slammed the barrel up into the beast's throat and snapped the trigger.

The bullet specially designed for the destruction of the hunted beasts was silver with a neurological pathogen injected into the load. The targets were not human, but their internals were. If the bullet did not prove fatal, the pathogen would at least slow them so the fatal blow could be administered.

The oblong skull, forced into an unnatural structure by the massive canine teeth inside the head, rocketed backward, releasing a jet stream of blood into the frenzied circle around them. This diverted the bloodthirsty slaves from their goal, turning their attention from their hunter, to their nourishment. At the death to one of their kin, they found pleasure.

A large faction of the creatures turned on each other, lunging and gnashing at their undead flesh, hoping to establish hierarchy and feast on blood and entrails of the numerous dead others. The feeding rituals of opposing sharks were put to shame with the ferocity displayed by the evil born monsters.

As creatures went down in a bloody struggle put up at the hands of another, their hunter was bought more time. He grabbed for another of his weapons. It was no bigger than manila envelope at width and height but it was as deep as cardboard box. He took it into his left hand and threw it up into the air. Before the package landed, he was out of the vicinity and down an open elevator shaft. As he dropped through the dark elevator shaft, he heard the package drop, now several floors above.

He himself landed to the bottom of the shaft, his legs mashing hard into the cement floor, causing his bones and joints to splinter. No longer able to support his heavy frame, he crumbled from the shaft to the first floor of the garage. An explosive flash rocked the structure, sending a blinding glow to baptize the whole upper floor and elevator shaft with ultra-violet rays.

The fallen hunter pushed himself up from his broken stance to the tone of slow applause echoing through the hollow garage. The hunter lifted his head painfully to see where the ridicule originated. Approaching him was a flushed and pallid male; his dead ebony lips parted by rows of jagged dagger-like ivory teeth. The hunter struggled to level himself on his two feet, using a nearby wall as a crutch. The evil specter apporaching him continued forward.

"And what do they call you motherfucker?" the hunter spat.

"Oh please Blade, how soon you forget. Since your mind does not tell of my name, I shall give it. I am Sinister," the figure named himself.

"Guess it doesn't matter what you're called, bloodsuckers all die the same!" Blade protested.

Blade meagerly raised a hand, still wrapped tightly around his pistol, squared up his shot and fired several times. The bullets screamed through the ambience, sinking deep into the chest of Sinister. The achromatic Sinister rocketed backward to the ground under the volley of shots.

"Like I always say, you vampires ain't shit," Blade chuckled.

His smug laugh was followed by a baneful roar from the downed Sinister, now completely upright once more. The bullet holes in his chest were melting away back to the deep purple suit the cloaked Sinister's body.

"I am no vampire child. I am your benefactor," Sinister spoke cryptically.

"Now what the hell you babbling about asshole?" Blade was outraged.

"Who do you think would be insane enough to deliver a child from someone who had been bitten by a mutant? Surely not a human, they fear your kind, they deny the mutant gene," Sinister started.

"I don't know where you are going with this doughboy, but the night is young and I have more 'suckers to kill," Blade grew impatient.

"Poor child. Still naïve enough to wonder how your thirst for human blood has been avoided. Surely you did not think it was a stronger human side? The mutant gene inside you vampire, is parasitic it will take precedence over your own," Sinister foretold.

"That's cute, really. Unless you are gonna tell me where the night-stalker brothel is, I've hear enough," Blade cracked his bones, settled into shape and tried to walk away from Sinister.

"Miss Kale, if you would please?"

Under Sinister's command, The young blonde witch dressed in black arcane garb poked out from the cover of a vehicle. She spat a chant out toward Blade, which caused him to freeze in motion, despite his best attempts to move.

"What the hell is this? Freaks come out at night day?" Blade remarked at the sight of the witch, Jennifer Kale.

"Despite your lack of charming qualities, I need you Blade. I have always needed you. That is why Miss Kale has been devoting her arcane skills to control your thirst for blood since you were born. It has given you the appropriate time to grow into a warrior, a warrior whose skills I now require." Sinister spoke.

"You think I am going to help you?" Blade asked.

"You do not have a foreseeable choice Blade. Either you help me, or you lose the control over your primordial urges and become that which you hunt, and spend eternity in purgatory. Take my word, the option I offer is one you should take, do not make the mistake I did," Sinister warned.

"I'm not too keen of blackmail, but I hate bloodsuckers. Fine Sinister, you have a deal."

My warrior, the one whose mutant gene was cultivated by my hand is now ready to do my bidding, willing or not. No matter, Kale, my love will manage his temperament if he gets unruly. I fear while he is ready, he is still too young to take on an enemy as aged as the Russoff child. That is what brought us to Canada. Word of a mutant, one with the lycanthropy gene has been sown through rumors in the area. Locals call the mutant we seek a "Wendigo." The definition for wendigo and werewolf is one in the same and should provide proving grounds for my warrior. If he takes down this young mutant, he shall have a conquest over Russoff and my mortal fate can be returned. How do I long for that day.

The dark moonlight basted the northern foliage, enlightening two animalistic beasts. One was the hunter and the other, the hunted. While one fought for salvation, the other fought for obscurity, but the both fought. They fought because it was the instinct of the terror that swept over them. Soon they would need to fight against each other to secure their individual victory and when that does happens only one will survive the encounter.

TO BE CONTINUED...