N-SGI Introduction: Escape!

It was cold, and dark. The darkness proved no problem, but the cold was getting to him. Being dressed in little more than an undershirt and thin sports-pants was not the way to be dressed when escaping from one's captors, Jonathan Vannheim concluded. But enough was enough; he had to get out of here.

Stretching upwards, his lanky body against the cold metal wall, Vannheim searched for something to get a grip round, so he could use his abilities to the full. Climbing in the roof was a good idea of getting out of here. At least it had seemed so, but apparently the Scientologists were no fools. Cursing silently, Vannheim sank together, and edged forward. His heightened senses meant he would discover anyone before they saw him. He knew full well how his skin adapted to the surroundings, making him as dark as the room around him.

"Jonathan?" The voice was barely a whisper, but Vannheim heard it loud and clear. Checking himself before rising, Vannheim walked over the prison cell on the other side.

"You managed to get out after all, Jonathan," Arden said from beyond the bars in the solid steel door.

Vannheim nodded.

"Can't I come with you? You know the cruel experiments they put us through."

"No, I can't, Mikail. You'd slow me down." Vannheim reached with a taloned hand through the bars and rested his friend’s cheek in it. He thought he saw a silver tear trickle down Arden's cheek. Vannheim saw Arden in a halo of blue light; his angelic form responding to Vannheim's demonic. It was the same for Arden; he saw Vannheim in a red haze.

"Promise to come back for me, do you?"

"We've been through this Hell together, Mikail, why should I leave you behind?"

"You are now."

"Alright..." Vannheim sighed. "I just have to make a disappearing act, and when everything's died down, I'll come back for you. I promise!"

With that, Vannheim slipped away in the darkness, leaving his friend, the Angel Mikail Arden, to wonder if he could trust the demon.

Thesar Pilacles wasn't considered more than a guard amongst the Scientologists. Despite that, he had a higher education than most officers in the Red Army. However, none of that knowledge could save him this night. What he faced at the moment was alien in every aspect, except that it had two arms, two legs and one head. Suddenly, the lightning gun in his hand seemed useless. The monstrosity before him wore naught more than a singlet and sports-pants. It was tall, well over two metres, but thinly built and corded with muscle. It's skin had some sort of red hue, and it's hands ended in long talons, with spikes growing from the knuckles. The teeth were fangs, the ears elongated and elfin and the face was blade thin. It had long black hair and the eyes... The eyes were perfectly human, it seemed, if it hadn't been for the cold, soulless edge to them.

The stark, white light from his flashlight didn't make it better. Pilacles stared in terror at the abomination before him.

"Wh... What are you?" Pilacles stammered forth.

"Your worst nightmare," Vannheim replied and strode forward. He knew that he emitted a halo of fear. It made it so much easier.

Pilacles backed away from the approaching creature. Terrified only began describing his feelings. He had discovered the thing by mistake, and that was apparently a mistake he'd pay for. Pilacles didn't know of the last years of experiments. He was considered to low-ranking to know.

Vannheim tensed his muscles; this had to be disposed of quickly. At the moment he held check over the situation thanks to his special pheromones, but he had no idea how long it would work.

Pilacles turned to run, overcome by his terror, but he didn't get far, as the demon-thing jumped high into the air and landed with a crunch on his back. It was Pilacles back that had crunched. He never felt the long talons digging themselves into the base of his neck either, unconscious by the sheer shock to have your back broken.

Vannheim rose from the dead guard. He felt odd. It had been so easy. Were all humans really this frail? If so, he had a mission. Once he'd gotten out of here, he’d find a way to the Republic. As a political officer of the Red Army, his duty had been to uphold the Community's will and Law. But it had also been to protect it from enemies, foreign and domestic. And with foreign, the Community was blunt: the Republic. And Vannheim's main thought had always been: Why not remove the Republic from the calculation all-together. If the Community wanted protection from its main foe, why not slay it?

Slipping through a ventilation shaft, Vannheim knew now what he had to do. He was going to succeed, or die in the attempt... If he now could truly die...