Fushigi Yuugi Fan Fiction ❯ Reflections of the Mirror ❯ The John Doe ( Chapter 1 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

The city of angels had been long threatened by a string of bizarre murders, where the local police department had dedicated themselves to solving. However, unbeknownst to the public, the LAPD had the paranormal at their side, a small group of vampires whose duty was to serve the society.
Finally, when the puzzles all fit together, the LAPD established a night raid in a suspected hideout, where they encountered an only survivor of the killings.

Anime/Manga: Fushigi Yuugi Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Action / Fantasy / Occult / Police / Romance | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 03.25.2006 | Updated On: 04.03.2006 | Pages: 4 | Words: 4.7K | Visits: 323 | Status: Work In Progress

Reflections of the Mirror

Chapter 1: The John Doe

Authorities Still Baffled as Vampires Strikes Again! 24/6/04

After a series of investigation, the LAPD has recently found another body linked to the killings in a few of Los Angeles' orthodox churches. The victim is this time a young Asian girl, and had been dumped in the back of the St. Mark Orthodox Church in the outskirts of the city.

A cleaning lady at around 7:00 am has discovered her body, but unlike the other killings, there was no proof that she was part of a satanic ceremony like the other murders.

However, what links her with the other murders is that she was found to have died from excessive blood loss, caused by holes being punctured in her flesh. The girl was so far the youngest of the rest of the victims, and also has no identity.

Gavin Cantero, chief of the local police department, comments: “It is difficult to determine who she was, her clothes has no ID, and there weren't any notices of someone missing the child. Also, we are finding that identifying those who was responsible to the murders is becoming more and more dense...”

Even though the LAPD is asking for more time to investigate further, the public is seen to be growing restless and more displeased by the polices' lack of efforts during a time of the most shocking unsolved crimes…

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The worn shred of an old newspaper article fluttered around the alleyway, sticking stubbornly to the wet pavement as the wind tried to drag it away.

Watching this, a lone man sits on an old barstool, looking into the dark world around him, bored out of his mind and angry at the world.

He was the kind of man that behaves immaturely for his age; opting for tattoos and leather rather than items an old man would have taken interest in. The guy looked like an odd time traveler from the late seventies, when bikers were hot on the sun-baked highways of L.A.

However, instead of saddling on a Harley and roaring through the city, he sits there, guarding a door that looked like it had been around for centuries. Despite of his age, he knew that he shouldn't worry about age getting in the way of work; after all, why else would a bouncer like him be posted here?

Since the night had just arrived to the city of Los Angeles, it was almost pitch black in the alley, save for a flickering light of an old outdoor lamp on the wall across the bouncer.

Truth was, he didn't even need the light to see what's going on. He could see every crack on the walls in the shadows, and if anybody comes this way, he could hear them before they can get close enough.

Rubbing his sharp canines against his lower lip, he stared into the distance, thinking deeply about something. For it seemed to be the right time to do so.

Who knows what that thug could have been thinking, after all, he didn't have much to say to everyone else, especially to somebody like me.

I wasn't sure if he knew I was there, hovering around the dark and damp scenery before him, staring at him back.

Compared to him, I was ahead of his time, he was nothing but a rabbit compared the fox I am in this food chain.

Likewise, I hoped that I hadn't underestimated him, one false move and he can raise the alarm, and all our work will come to nothing.

At first, we didn't know who exactly were involved with the first few murders. They were careful, the forensics couldn't find a trace of another person on the crime scenes; there were no fingerprints, no signs of assault, not even a struggle. The only connection between the victims was their race groups, and the fact that they were nobodies.

Even worse still, I knew that every time these murdering jerks were done with a body, they'd staged it out and try to lead us off, toying us as we studied their leavings.

Now they're not so safe from their activities anymore.

I've been standing here for hours now, keeping a close eye on the back door, waiting for my colleagues to make their move on these jerk-offs.

I smiled, something in me told my brain that I shouldn't worry. Looking down at my translucent body, I wondered if anyone suspects already.

It was a rainy afternoon; it could be understandable that there should be some steam hovering about in some hot nights…so I guess my disguise wouldn't be out of the ordinary.

People like me, well; it all depends on how old you are. Many of us had experienced an odd evolution of our bodies within each passing year. I had just been able to change my usual flesh-and-blood body into looking like a sheet of vapor, I usually transform into a little moth, but that was always a risky business…being small and significant I can live with, but not a flyswatter.

I held my breath when the door screeched open, revealing a trembling old man in a stiff lab coat. Frail, yet wild-eyed, he quickly shuffled to the biker and twittered at his large ear.

“Bob! We've got a charlie back in there!”

Whatever he meant, as I was trying to understand, the guard seemed to know exactly what he was talking about. The biker instantaneously straightened his posture and shifted his stool closer to the door, staring intently at his visitor.

At this moment, for the first time, I heard his voice.

“The boss want me to go get him?” He asked, his voice was gruff, but there was an anxious height to it. The guy in the lab coat shook his head vigorously and exclaimed, “Of course not! Just quit daydreaming and don't let anyone go in or out of this door!”

Hearing this, an annoyed look overshadowed the biker's features, but he said nothing else. Giving the elder a curt nod, he watched the old man enter the building once more, who closed the door firmly.

Now what?

I couldn't help but feel anxious for what's happening. Whatever the old man had said, it must have woken the guard back to reality.

Whoever caused the disturbance; the very thought of my department blowing our cover plagued my mind, making myself wonder whether I should act now or do my job.

But on the other hand, maybe our plans aren't turning into a catastrophe, and if I act out of permission, I could've ruined everything.

My job was that once the cops crash into that hell-hole, whoever should try to slink out through here is going to have to answer to me: Regan Cox, one of LAPD's vampires.

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Inside the enigmatic building, Dr. Samuel Ahn walked briskly through the hallway, his trembling hands clutching on the buttons of his rough lab coat.

Even after spending a few hours working in this area, he still couldn't adjust his eyes to the bright lighting.

The boss had always insisted to have every room lighted with the stark power of fluorescent lamps, making it seem almost impossible to be oblivious to the things in the room.

The hallway was littered with metallic shelves, all holding up stacks of crates, boxes, and sometimes, plastic trash bags.

Now despite the fact that he works here most of the time, the contents within these containers are a mystery to him, except the fact that this building is never short of supplies whenever questions were asked.

However, despite the fact that the building can suit any worker's need, with all the tough-looking security patrolling for the sake of secrecy, and the perfect tools and environment to work…then why had he always felt anxious?

Was it the guilt factor? Or had it been that boy…?

As Samuel wove his way towards his laboratory, his mind began to reflect on the unusual event which happened only hours ago.

He could almost see the boy right in front of him; he was indeed, one of the most ferocious of their stock, and the most unique. When the boy was presented to him, he had a mark on his body, which defies all scientific logic…

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Four hours ago…

A scream was heard throughout the catacombs that elongated the warehouse's basement. It rang and bounced across the walls of the floor, a male sound that could have been only heard from a human in a bleak situation.

In situations like this, screams are a commonplace during the daily activities the workers often did…all for their master.

With arms and legs restrained by handcuffs, the boy squirmed on the operating table, especially designed to restrain the likes of him, so his abductors can get set to work on him, without any complications.

Samuel, one of the many medics that worked here, watched closely as his underlings tore through the boy's clothes, swiftly ripping open his black coat and plain shirt with scissors.

To him, it was just another day at work. It seemed his sole purpose in life was to help harvest the blood of the living, and sometimes, the meat. However, what his master wanted was to sustain himself with the red fluids from his own kind, so he often had trouble finding what to do with the rest of the body.

Pulling his rubber gloves on his hand, he turned back to one of the members in his team, and whispered calmly, “Prepare the chloroform.”

Usually, they perform by doping the victim unconscious, drain their blood, and use up the rest of the body. Areas such as hospitals always had a demand for organs…especially in big cities like this.

As he slid his other hand into another rubber glove, he idly listened to the raucous the young man was making, his foreign words shooting out of his large mouth.

Could they have been curses, or pleas for a savior? He couldn't understand all of that oriental drivel, but nonetheless, he found that the last struggles made by the victims very interesting to witness.

The young man screamed out something foreign to his ears and made a kick to free himself from the cuffs…his very last one, as the nurse clamped his mouth with a gauze pad, and dribbled a few small droplets of the fateful chloroform.

Samuel waited patiently as the boy's eyes fluttered at first, hesitantly, but they closed again. Never to be waken up again.

Picking up a gleaming scalpel from a tray, he studied the features of the victim, finding his form unusual. It had been quite a surprise when he arrived, usually they get hold of an odd peasant or ragamuffin, but to seize a richly clothed man, it seemed almost a crime to kill him.

While most of their previous victims had Mongolian features, this one has a more three-dimensional bone structure, with hair so red that it looked like a dancing flame.

Shrugging, he told himself, `Enough ogling now, time to get back to work…'

Bending over the boy, he pushed his head to the side, felt for a carotid artery, and pressed his scalpel onto the skin…

“Ahn! Hold on just a minute!”

He froze, and looked up to the nurse who stopped him, “What?!” he exclaimed.

The male nurse held up a finger, and brought it down on the boy's right forearm. The nurse turned the arm on an angle in which Samuel can see.

On the boy's forearm, was a tattoo of an Asian symbol, the meaning of it was unknown to him, except this strange sight: It was glowing bright red, like a little Christmas light.

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Samuel Ahn stared at the empty bed in his laboratory, the only furniture that wasn't completely damaged. The broken glass strewn across the floor crunched underneath his sneakers, as he wandered aimlessly around the room. The cart that held his tools was slammed against the wall, and the random apparatus that littered the surrounding counters were thrown aside. The once-sparkling refrigerator had its clear door covered with a black smear, with a disgusting scent of charred meat wafting from it.

It was a smell he would never forget.

Wiping the sweat off his cold brow, he began clearing up, searching, and hoping to find that his records weren't damaged.

As he was picking up the pieces of paper he was working on, he was distinctively aware of soft-soled footsteps coming up behind him, an unusual breath of hot air wafting up to his back.

Samuel Ahn didn't dare to look around; he just merely closed his eyes, with his body frozen in terror.

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“Let's Go! Go! Go!”

Warriors clad in black immediately jumped from their hiding places, their running footsteps pounding towards the front door of the warehouse, the noise similar to an approaching thunderstorm.

Heavily armored with bulletproof shields and padding, the police circled around the building, their guns poised and ready against any threat.

A couple of policemen separated themselves from the group, and began their work on the front metal door. The door code was quickly entered, and the metal door groaned open, allowing the men to pour inside.

Naturally, each of the police was already told on what their purpose was. A small amount of these urban soldiers remained outside in the warm environment, their hooded eyes warily watching the exterior of the simple building, as most of their comrades ventured into the bright light.

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Within the alien environment, the police team treaded carefully on the slippery stone floor. All seems quiet, but they know this is no cause to let their guard down.

So swift, not a sound was heard as their blurry feet contacted the floor. Two casually dressed guards darted from their hiding place, and moved in to attack the police.

Sighting them, the police formed a straight line, their shields held high. The guards roared with rage and bounded towards them, claws and fangs bared and ready.

One of them was faster, and managed to rake its claws on one of the shields, scraping off thin ribbons of the material. The policeman next to his attacked comrade moved in and planted a muzzle of his gun on the vampire guard, but was suddenly slammed into a wall by the other guard.

From the impact, the policeman lost control of the gun, his hand swung wildly as his fingers accidentally pulled the trigger.

The bullet whizzed by and scraped on the leg of his comrade, who briefly howled in pain, and was taken down by his attacker.

Saliva foamed at the guard's mouth, his mind's eye picturing himself ripping off the cop's throat. The sight was appealing, frightening, and primitive. The vampire's hand clamped onto the collar of the cop, and forced his hand downwards, exposing the cop's brown neck. He was about to lunge when he was suddenly grabbed by the shoulders, and was thrown across the hallway.

Looking up, he suddenly realized, they were not just attacking humans.

An unarmed cop looked down on him, separated from his team and grinning from ear to ear. With the smile frozen on his face, the cop raised his foot and brought it down on the guard's chest, backed by strength unlike any he has felt before.

The Guard felt the cop climb on top of him, sitting on top pf him while restraining the vampire's feet, his own.

Using his fanged teeth, the cop pulled off one of his padded gloves, showing off his hands, all adorned with black claws.

Raising his hand, the cop brought down three swift strokes. One, two, three…it was all it took to destroy the guard. Two of them was to disable the vampire guard of his hands, swiping off the clawed extensions of arms, while the final one, was to end his life.

Immediately, the vampire cop got up, not even bothering to survey his work.

He left the corpse on the floor, the throat cut and hands slashed off, and walked threateningly towards the other enemy.

The large vampire clamped his meaty palms onto the insolent vampire, and held him in place, he then used his left hand to slap the guard's head off.

It was all over in a quick manner.

As soon as the guard's headless body slumped to the floor, the police reformed their iron composure, and began exploring the building even further.

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Samuel Ahn breathed deeply, instinctively aware that something hot was getting closer to him. Sweat ran down his back, making his skin feel oily and itchy.

For a moment he kneeled there, his mouth chewing at his words, his mind screaming furiously to gather up the courage and speak, let alone move.

Finally, he managed to whisper hoarsely, “Please, just let me be…I…I was the one that saved you.”

The intruder stood there silently, and so the doctor gathered up the courage to turn around and face him. Looking over his shoulder, his thin brown eyes met the vibrant dark amber eyes, of his former victim.

The young man stood before him, his face clouded darkly with anger and a solemn fury.

Samuel can see the boy's tattoo pulsating red, his hand gripping on a weapon which is mythical to him.

Formed into a metal stick, layered almost like a Japanese fan, it except the handle he was gripping on was engulfed into flames, like an ancient oriental version of a lighter.

If it hadn't been me, you wouldn't be here alive. He wanted to say, but somehow he knew it was useless to utter words.

Suddenly, the boy raised his glowing weapon, and Samuel cringed, expecting a painful strike. He saw the aftermath of the use of the weapon, and he grudgingly admitted his fate.

However, a sound from the outside stopped the hand of the boy, a screech of pain and panic.

Samuel's attention was diverted from the victim to what lay behind him, towards the door. He could hear havoc created behind the closed door, crashes and smashes of material were heard, with beatings and shootings being laid on flesh.

Samuel cautiously went back on his feet, aware that the boy was still in front of him. However, he didn't seem to notice, and as the noise was getting closer, the boy darted out of the scene, opening the door and quickly leaving.

Samuel let out a sigh of relief, feeling that he didn't deserve to die in this boy's hands. By this moment, Samuel realized there is a benevolent god.

Later on, as the cops arrived at the scene, he was still feeling calm and safe.

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