"It's sad so few of you didn't take the opportunities I gave you! Life or death, one way breeds new opportunities, pleasures, and advancement. The other, a dead end where one can only be as dust!" a deep voice spoke imperiously. Gabriel turned to stare at a woman bound to a chair, his hair reflecting the light from two burning barrels.

It took Irene squinting and shifting her perspective to see the spectacle. Irene did her best to focus on the person bound in the chair. Gabriel was obstructing her view, but once he moved, the features became clearer. Irene gasped in recognition. It was Cynthia.

"Of course… there are those who I won't afford the chance to live - they don't deserve it." A large hand caught hold of the pale, bare throat of his prisoner, her hands bound behind her back. "I do not tolerate treachery!"

"Tell me something new…" Cyrus muttered quietly amidst the fracas of cheering. Irene remained hidden behind some machinery, watching the obscured view with anxiety. She felt no anguish on behalf of Gabriel's captive, but she could not deny the spectacle distressed her.

"Cynthia, you had one simple task. Bring the girl alive. Instead, you killed her. You have no idea what you cost me, what you cost us! And now, you will pay!" Gabriel's face was devoid of expression as he brought his other hand to cradle the nape of Cynthia's neck. Her face was obscured, but Irene imagined a fearful expression on her. Irene's mouth was dry as she watched, the air ripe with suspense.

With a swift jerk and a cracking noise, which caused Irene to nearly jump out of her skin, Cynthia's head was twisted one-hundred and eighty degrees. If only Gabriel had stopped there Irene may have been able to remain in control of her nausea. However, to her dismay, he continued to twist his prisoner's neck with sharp movements until the skin broke, a jagged red line of beads forming across her throat. A series of snaps reached Irene's ears, each noise corresponding to a sudden rise of bile in her throat. Quicker and quicker he unscrewed her head like a bottle cap, until he ripped it off. Blood sprayed outward like a red umbrella.

Gabriel held up Cynthia's head for all to see. Her once beautiful face withered until it was a disgusting, mostly decayed visage. Creamy skin was now greenish brown with wispy tresses of hair that had the colour of smoker-stained fingernails. The body followed, decompressing beneath the tight clothes, being reduced to a bony figure, with barely any sinew left upon the bone.

The stench of decay flared up in Irene's unguarded nostrils, and she could no longer control herself. She fell to her knees, blood and bile rising through her throat. Alarmed, Cyrus bent down quickly, grabbing a hold of Irene's shoulder with one hand, the other rubbed her back. To both of their relief, Gabriel had begun talking again, and the retching had gone unnoticed.

Irene wiped her chin with the back of her hand, her eyes glazed with tears. Cyrus quietly helped her to her feet. She glanced at him for only a moment to give him an appreciative nod, then continued to watch.

"Who else wishes to share her fate, and the fate of the rest who continue to defy me!?" Gabriel stared down at three individuals who were bound and guarded. From the back view, Irene could not make out who they were, but she judged from Cyrus's grim expression that he knew them. Gabriel tilted his head down and stared at his remaining prisoners with great intensity. None of them moved or spoke.

"Master Gabriel asked you a question! One of you had better say something, or you're all getting the hot poker!" one of the guard's threatened, taking a swing at one of the prisoners' heads.

"Alright - alright! I promise to never rise against Gabriel again! I'll cooperate! I'll be good… I'll… I'll do whatever you need me to do!" a male voice cried out. Gabriel's frown twisted upward into his sinister grin, but his eyes showed no compassion. They only grew crueler.

"I hope you're a man of your word," Gabriel spoke in his cyanotic tone. One of the guards cut the broken vampire loose and he fell forward, making an embarrassing display of groveling and crying. Irene could scarcely watch the pathetic display, and she gave Cyrus a sharp glance, lifting her eyebrows and tilting her head to the execution site. He returned an equally sharp look and shook his head. Irene frowned impatiently. Why is he holding us back? Why won't he save his own followers?

"I'll do anything if you'll spare me!" the vampire entreated. Irene tilted her head. There was something familiar about that voice.

"First tell me your name," Gabriel demanded.

The man lifted his head and hesitated. "It's Cody, sir."

Irene just about sunk in her own skin. It was no wonder he was breaking so easily. He was new and weak, like herself. Perhaps she was quick to judge him for his capitulation.

"Cody?" Gabriel parroted. He then snapped at one of his followers who quickly produced a piece of paper and handed it to him. Gabriel gave a flick of both his wrists to straighten out the page and examined it. He then peered from over the document at Cody, who remained very still. "Ah, I see, you haven't been with us very long. You're still soft as clay… and just as inferior. Tch… pity. You'd die too easily in a fight to the death."

"Cyrus…" Irene growled softly. Cyrus put his finger to her lips.

"…And it wouldn't even be much sport." Gabriel shrugged his broad shoulders and straightened his posture.

Suddenly, a loud crackle followed by an ear-shattering pop halted the proceeding. Smoke obscured the vampire assembly, as voices called out in anger and bewilderment. Cyrus caught Irene's eye and nodded to her. That was the green light. Before Irene could respond, he had already bolted past her. She remained hidden, unable to focus. Not even her recently enhanced senses could grab a hold of the commotion. Apprehensively, she gnawed on her lower lip.

Who am I kidding? What can I do but just get in the way? No. No time for doubts. This is happening.

Amidst Irene's inner conflict, her attention was grabbed by the subtle sound of cloth rustling and the sensation of a brief breeze along the back of her neck. She glanced at the narrow gap behind her, but saw nothing. Uneasily she crouched down, looking about frantically.

The hazy battle ceased to be material for her as fear breached her faltering mind. I'm just imagining things again. I need to focus. Slowly Irene rose, intent on departing from her vantage point, casting her doubts behind her. Something dark shifted in her peripheral view. Startled, Irene immediately ducked again, craning her neck to find the source. "Who's there?"

No response came. Irene looked around to see if she could find Gabriel or Cyrus, but the chaos of battle became its own singular entity, of which she could not separate the moving parts.

Distracted and jumping at shadows, the sounds of battle escaped Irene's notice until a sharp crack broke through mental mist. A mauled body landed a meter away. Thick blood seeped out of the large wound in his head, eyes burnt out of the sockets. Irene shuffled back, but could not tear her eyes away. There was a twitch, followed by a moan, barely audible above the ruckus. Her stomach churned uneasily as his neck untwisted. The vampire's arms sluggishly pushed against the pavement.

Creak.

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A large metal beam crashed down from the blackness above. Irene jumped back, bumping into a large console. The beam landed across the man's neck, severing it with sheer force. Irene threw her hands to her mouth to muffle her shriek. The body did not move after that, other than to rapidly decay.

The last of the smoke had settled, and there were dismembered limbs strewn about the factory. Irene could not account for all of the bodies, or body parts, for there seemed to be more lying dead than there were even present when the fight began. The advanced state of decomposition some of them were in made cursory identification impossible. For all she knew, Gabriel or Cyrus could be one of them.

"Screw this I'm leaving!" one of Gabriel's men screamed. His frantic footsteps were drowned out by a loud metallic groan. Like an angered guardian, a large piece of machinery swung down by its cables and ploughed into him. He landed somewhere in the shadows with a visceral splat.

Irene shakily navigated the factory floor. Her senses had been dulled by the interference of her own racing heart, but as she stepped out of hiding, the sounds, the sights, and the smells pushed their full intensity against her unguarded nerves. Her knees nearly buckled.

It wasn't just the death that horrified the nascent vampire - it was the violence in which both sides conducted themselves. Blood spattered across the cold pavement floor. Mutilated men and women continued to tear each other apart. Hot pokers, crude torches, and vicious tools were wielded against one another. The sounds of sizzling flesh, breaking bones, snapping joints, and grunts of pain buzzed around her skull. She wanted to shut it out, but she could not.

While her focus was engaged watching a nearby fight, a hot twang of pain shot up Irene's neck as the back of her tongue knotted. She reached behind for whoever grabbed her, only to be flung to the ground. There was a nauseating pop in her ear as she landed on her side. A shock of sharp pain wracked her shoulder and burrowed down her spine, but her arm lost all feeling. Teeth grit against the shockwaves of agony, she rolled onto her back, looking up at the vampire she recognised as the one who captured her the first time. Louis.

Louis's hair was sticky and matted, clinging to the contours of his rubicund face. Blood drizzled from the side of his head and from a large gash in his chin. He paused dramatically, a cruel smirk on his face. "Now... what should I do with you?"

Before Irene could get to her feet, the battered vampire grabbed her dislocated arm. Bolts of thundering pain burst from her shoulder out, causing her stomach and teeth to clench. She couldn't move, and barely could breathe. Soon her other arm was in his grip, and both were forced behind her. Irene bit down on her lip so hard it bled, trying not to let any more whimpers escape.

There was a whisper in her ear. "Don't worry… I'm not going to kill you… but resist, and I'll make you wish I had."

Light headed and dizzy, Irene could not escape the sobering reality that she'd fallen into the same trench of peril. Her missing finger ached; a memory of agony brought on by fear of its reprise. She didn't struggle as she tried to regain her senses.

"That's right… calm and quiet…" cooed her attacker.

Irene continued to bite hard into her lower lip as she lowered her head. It hurt. IT HURT. Pain had become familiar, but she was tired of feeling fear. She was tired of moving away from it. Pent up frustration in the roiling caldera of her soul erupted. ENOUGH!

Irene's blood boiled and she twisted away. Louis snarled in outrage and swung his fist to punish her. Irene dove for the floor, Louis could not halt his momentum and toppled over her. His second strike glanced off her lower ribs. Leveraging the floor as support, Irene kicked him as he stumbled. The male vampire grunted and fell back. Encouraged by the successful impacts, Irene shoved him away with her legs. Given space between herself and her assailant, she struggled to her feet. One arm she raised, ready to deflect any incoming blows. Her other arm dangled uselessly at her side.

"Go on… try and make me regret that," Irene glared defiantly at her bewildered opponent. It was written all over his face that none of his victims had ever fought back. The loss of control jarred him, but Irene could see that confusion morph into rage.

"Oh I will! You're nothing!" Louis charged at Irene. She stared, wide-eyed as her swiped for her. She stumbled back, barely avoiding the hand grasping for her throat. In anger, his other arm swung wide from the outside, hooking her in the ribs. Not stopping, he clasped both hands together and brought them down, the impact resonating through her whole body as it hit her good shoulder. Unable to keep her footing, Irene fell back. "Know your place, wench!"

Using her legs, she scooted herself quickly away when Lous tried to grab her. She continued to crawl further and he paused, laughing at her. Pain and rage mingled and Irene rose to her feet. With a bloodied smirk, he prepared for another assault.

Louis leaned forward, just like last time. He was going to charge. Irene likewise launched forward, keeping her body low, intact shoulder forward. With satisfaction, she rammed into his lower abdomen. Both of them crashed to the floor, Irene on top. Pinning him with her knees, she repeatedly punched Louis in the face with her working arm. He raised an arm deflecting Irene's next blow, while he hooked her flank. Wincing and leaning to the side, Irene changed her angle and jabbed below his blocking arm, striking him in the throat.

Fury subsided, Irene wiped the blood off of her knuckles as she stood up. It was liberating to not be the victim. She lifted a leg to stomp on his throat one more time. Louis grabbed her foot and twisted. Heat radiated sharply from her ankle and she fell onto her hands and knees, harrowing aches saturating her joints. Stunned, she was dragged closer to the other vampire by her leg. As a fist rammed into the back of Irene's knee, a scream burst out of her chest. She kicked with her other leg and tried to flip herself over.

Now on her back, Irene reached up as Louis leaned down to grab her. She grabbed his throat as he socked her in the face. Agony branded itself upon her nose, hot and radiating. She in turn squeezed Louis's throat with renewed vigour, her thumb feeling the ridges of his trachea. His hand went to her wrist and he was able to pry her off with ease. Louis threw her down once again, her skin sloughing off as she skid along the ground.

Louis tore a metal rung off of a nearby ladder and swung it down at Irene. Seeing the movement, Irene reflexively flinched and rolled to the side. He pressed his advantage, striking at her constantly with the metal rod. The weaker vampire had to keep moving to stay alive. Some of his strikes she managed to evade, others struck her hard.

It hurt so much to move; she wanted to give up. But it would hurt worse to stay and let herself be thrashed.

Irene grabbed onto the side of a machine assembly, pulling herself up. She moved her head to the side, narrowly avoiding a swing. While doing so, her eyes momentarily glanced at a belt and chute. She was in front of a thresher. If only I could...

WHACK!

Irene stumbled forward as she took a blow to the side of the head, ears ringing, vision failing. A wet sensation tickled her ear.

Blurry movement arced above her head, and to her own surprise Irene's good hand reached up and caught the makeshift weapon. Her sore knees bent from the impact of an overhead swing, and the pain in her ankle caused her eyes to water as she struggled with Louis for control of the bar. She pushed as hard as she could, but she could not stop the metal bar from slowly getting closer and closer to her neck. Louis's grin was wild and maddening.

The chute!

While Louis's strength was fully committed to choking Irene, she dropped down, ceasing all resistance. He could not adjust in time, and his own exertion caused him to stumble forward and trip onto the conveyor belt. The metal bar clattered to the ground and Irene grabbed it. She sprang back up and performed and overhand thrust down onto her prone opponent. To her satisfaction and disgust, she drove the metal bar through his right eye and he screamed. She wasn't done; she pushed the bar through the back of his skull and into the opening of the thresher, wedging the bar and Louis's long hair between the blades. Had the machine been in operation, he would have been shredded. Either way, he was effectively neutralised.

Irene's ears were still ringing and her vision throbbed in and out of focus as she limped towards cover. She could barely hear anything beyond a high pitched, tinny sound and her own heartbeat. But something managed to break through the internal white noise - a crash and the shrill scraping of metal. It came from behind and Irene spun around in a panic, raising her hand defensively.

Irene cautiously peeked one eye open. Lining the chute Irene had foisted Louis onto were bones and dust; Louis was nowhere to be seen. Both of her eyes shot open in surprise. Once again, a shadow fled from her peripheral vision. She wildly searched her environs, but saw no one.

An eerie realisation came upon Irene as the ringing finally ceased: it had gone quiet.

With her battle over, all of the pain shrieked at her and Irene fell to the ground. She rolled onto her side, heaving as she tried to master the agony that her existence had become. When the sensations ebbed to mere aches and discomfort, she sat up again.

"Cyrus? Anybody?" Irene called out between grunts. "What… what happened!?"