Reaper

The city pulsed beneath a canopy of neon, its streets slick with rain and secrets. Music throbbed from the nightclub ahead, spilling through the walls like a second heartbeat. Outside its entrance stood a lone security guard, oblivious to the pair of reflective eyes watching from the opposite side of the street. Reaper lingered in the shadows, his hood pulled low. The hunger clawing at him felt foreign, primal. Every passing heartbeat was deafening, every breath carried the scent of warm blood. It was unbearable... and intoxicating. Not long ago, he would have crossed the street to strike up a conversation, to offer a smile or lend a hand if someone looked troubled. That boy had vanished the moment cold hands dragged him into eternal night. His master's words echoed relentlessly through his mind. Prove yourself. This was no random victim chosen for his initiation. The guard worked the entrance of the very club his master claimed as hunting grounds. Loyal. Alert. Strong enough to fight back. A fitting first test. Reaper swallowed hard, his fangs pressing against his lower lip. Guilt flickered through him, stubborn as an ember refusing to die, but devotion burned hotter. He owed everything to the one who had remade him, and failure was not an option. Drawing a slow, unnecessary breath, Reaper stepped from the darkness and toward the club's entrance, every footfall carrying him farther from who he once was... and closer to the monster he was expected to become.