“Laid to rest in the family crypt centuries ago,” Marc said.
Although, that line was not entirely true. That statement applies perfectly well to the Compte and Comptess, it did not to his mother.
“I have not thought of her in years,” Marc said.
His mother had been his first lesson in the injustices of this world. Notably the cruelty that came with nobility, the affluent, or the elite. A snake by any other name is just as venomous…
Disclaimer: This excerpt from Man of War is currently in development. There may be typos, errors, omissions, inconsistencies and so forth.
As he approached the bulkhead the overhead lighting reflected his face onto the surface. Other than the frost covering his entire body, he looked no worse for wear, but that would change with time. I’ve been feeding well of late.
Those dark brown eyes stared back at him, giving him a view of his olive skin and wavy black hair. He had a sharp nose, chiselled jaw and the body of a strongman of old. If it was not for his short stature, shorter than the average woman, Marc would have been quite handsome.
In spite of being physically in his early twenties, his height confused many he came across. He had been asked on multiple occasions which school he was attending, and in one situation was asked where his parents were.
“Laid to rest in the family crypt centuries ago,” Marc said.
Disclaimer: This excerpt from Man of War is currently in development. There may be typos, errors, omissions, inconsistencies and so forth.
He stood up from one of the bunks, his knees creaking from the joins having frozen. He might have been a vampire, but even he could freeze if temperatures got low enough. For now he could deal with the discomfort while he waited.
The man weaved slowly past the bodies, keeping his eyes focused on the large white bulkhead ahead. For centuries time had been on his side, endless and entirely irrelevant to his existence. Now the sands of time were beginning to run low… soon that last grain would run through to the bottom.
The thought of meeting his end was in itself comforting. The idea of being stuck alone in an orbiting space station for eternity would have driven him insane. I can’t not think of a worse way to go… alive but mindless…
Disclaimer: This excerpt from Man of War is currently in development. There may be typos, errors, omissions, inconsistencies and so forth.
Atmospheric processing was where the mutineers made their last stand. The elite gave the order to retake the facility, rendering well over ninety of the station uninhabitable. They would rather die than give into the demands of the lessers.
“Or rule a graveyard then share power,” Marc said.
The most powerful families had secured themselves into one of the hydroponics bays over the working fusion generator. There was plenty of water and food to be had in there, and more than enough drones to ensure a direct attack failed.
“If only they knew about me,” Marc said.
Disclaimer: This excerpt from Man of War is currently in development. There may be typos, errors, omissions, inconsistencies and so forth.
“Finding their way to a shelter did nothing for these souls,” Marc said in a voice devoid entirely of emotion.
Despite speaking normally his voice sounded distant and faint, a side effect of the carbon-dioxide rich environment. His voice was always lower in timber and huskier, but now it registered as alien in his mind. Still, the sound of a voice filled a gap in his soul he thought lost long ago.
It had been two weeks since workers rose up from the oppression of their masters and took control of power generation and environmental controls. Marc had not been surprised by this move, nor the response of those whose wealth paid for this station and the seats on rockets for those clamouring for rights.
Disclaimer: This excerpt from Man of War is currently in development. There may be typos, errors, omissions, inconsistencies and so forth.
The bunks reminded him of coffins with the side panel removed. Emergency shelters were designed for function not luxury. At the centre of the back wall there was a door that led to a small kitchen and bathrooms. Whereas on the forward bulkhead was the sealed entrance.
Most of the bodies had once been a part of the middle class, doctors, nurses, teachers, and security personnel. They were caught in the crossfire.
Death was the ultimate equaliser, men and women, rich and poor, young and old. Everyone here had succumbed to the effects of an atmosphere they poisoned by breathing.
“Finding their way to a shelter did nothing for these souls,” Marc said in a voice devoid entirely of emotion.
Disclaimer: This excerpt from Man of War is currently in development. There may be typos, errors, omissions, inconsistencies and so forth.
Warning, oxygen levels at 9% and steady. Please make your way to an emergency shelter.
Marc took a deep breath of the stale dry air before rolling his eyes across the hundreds of lifeless husks surrounding him. There was a thin layer of frost over each and everyone of them. As the internal temperatures of the station plummeted, even the atmosphere began to sublimate.
The inside of the shelter was basic, it was large and rectangular. Like the common areas, the bulkheads were composed of a composite metal with a white polymer coating to prevent corrosion. Along three of the walls there were recessed bunks, stacked four high.
Disclaimer: This excerpt from Man of War is currently in development. There may be typos, errors, omissions, inconsistencies and so forth.
The man’s eyes somehow appeared to lock on to Anna, a phenomenon that further contributed to the general malaise experienced. It took all that she had to ignore that tingling that ran down her spine, and not make a run for it. “It’s time,” Marc said.#AmEditing#WritingCommunitypic.twitter.com/PE53xCJ8qy
“…Marc?” Evelyn managed to ask. “What’s left of me,” Marc managed to say, while his lips cracked from the strain. “You need a bit of… fresh air, mon cher,” Evelyn said after regaining a modicum of her composure. “That ran out one-hundred-and-fifty-three-years ago.”#AmEditingpic.twitter.com/ak5FhVIyXU
Eventually, she grew tired of watching Breanna decay. Her body was beginning to cool, and the blood settled. If they delayed much longer, they would forfeit the keys to the Georgian fortress.
“Can’t have that,” Evelyn said. “Can we, ma chère?”
Evelyn slipped away from her partner and off the bed. Breanna’s legs remained momentarily in position but soon flopped onto the bed. She giggled at the sight while sauntering over to the bedroom door.
She opened the door and found the silhouette of her impeccably dressed sire. He turned around, looked Evelyn straight in the eyes, but remained quiet. Despite Evelyn being naked, bloody, covered in someone else’s sweat, and sporting a large purple strap-on, he never made a peep.
“If you actually used that penis of yours, I wouldn’t need toys so much,” Evelyn said.
The tease had no effect, and never would. Yet either would be concerned if the other behaved out of character. Evelyn moved aside, letting Marc into the room to get started.
Marc would drain the body of blood, adding in an anticoagulant to keep the supply viable. Fingerprints would be harvested along with those delicate green eyes. Anything less would deny them access to the Georgian stronghold.
She sat down at the dressing table and stroked the purple appendage. Despite death being an old companion, Evelyn felt discomfort at the idea of witnessing what was about to happen.
“I need to wash and grab a quick bite,” Evelyn said. “Please treat Breanna’s remains with respect.”
Evelyn then walked out of the bedroom, her hips swaying alluringly. All the while, that purple phallus swung in the opposing direction. Marc never turned around to look. After all, there was work to be done.
Disclaimer: This chapter is currently in development. There are likely typos, errors, omissions, inconsistencies and so forth. Please do not treat this as a polished and completed work!
