Post by John Dark on Jun 6, 2016 23:17:22 GMT
Leaving without notice was impossible. Ever since his inevitable removal from his apartment, to a room upstairs from the book shop, John only left his room to either go to work, or go to the bathroom, or to his lab, but whenever he left, he always felt as if he was being followed, like he could sense the presence of another werewolf nearby at all times. In his new room, he often kept his records on a private server, and often performed his various experiments at a new safehouse that Tera had located for him. After his protests of wanting to be able to work in a place where he could smoke, he was reluctantly given a small place, close the the shop, but away from prying eyes. He knew when Tera was listening in on his recordings, as her voice was often sterner with him, and she seemed damn near hesitant to even want to look at him. He knew her protests about lycanthropy, something John considered an affliction above all else. To her, it was all she knew, but to John, he knew that some people born with various diseases knew only such a life as well, but he was not ready to accept being a wolf just yet.
For weeks, he would leave from work to go to his lab, in order to work on a new serum. It was nearly time for a new full moon, and both Cerberus and Tera wanted to keep an eye on him before he shifted again. John was not thrilled with the idea of the change being upon him so soon again, but Cerberus was under the impression that something was going to happen soon. As much as this strange man seemed to be right about a lot of things, John simply could not let himself grow any further as a werewolf. He wanted to live his life out as a human, but knew he could only do so if he could find a cure. He took his time when he was in the Underworld studying about the various myths on werewolves, and the truths behind the tales. The truth, it appeared, was more complicated than it seemed. Werewolves normally had two forms: A Phase I, and a Phase II, and at the moment, John was only a Phase I. Werewolves evolved overtime into the second phase after nearly a year of being a Phase I. In the first Phase, werewolves were at the mercy to the moon, and their minds degraded to a feral state. The wolf was normally not evil, unless the person that was bitten was evil, thus Phase I’s only ever attacked unless agitated. Bloodlust was another thing John now had to look out for, and for werewolves, human blood was highly addictive. He would always have a craving for raw, bloodied meats, but normal food was not out of the question. Most of the books on lycanthropy explained that most of the myths got a few things wrong. The first, was that they underestimated the strength of werewolves, and their state of minds. In truth, werewolves were juggernauts, and were incredibly swift. The legend about silver was nearly universal, but John learned the truth the hard way. Even looking at silver gave him a sense of nausea.
When John examined a silver compound on his blood under a microscope, he noticed how his blood began to break down immediately, and suddenly coagulate and burn completely. The way the silver burned through his blood sample was unprecedented, and when administered with a drop of liquified Wolfsbane, the blood began to heal itself. The answer had to lay within these two compounds. For weeks, he tried looking for a way to synthesize a formula in order to test it upon himself. It was a big risk, as Phase I’s had a 99.9% mortality risk, when exposed to even a small amount of silver, which fueled the stories that werewolves only needed one silver bullet to die. The truth about Monkshood, however was different than most stories. It did have a rather unfortunate side effect of causing a werewolf to partially shift, when its pollen is inhaled, but it could also heal a werewolf from the weakening effects of silver, if administered on time. Many werewolves collected the pollen, but John managed to synthesize a liquid version of the base compound within the plant.
He sat in an uneven foldout chair, tapping his fingers against a beat up fold out table, made from some cheap metal, that had been warped from heavy materials being sat upon it over the years and smoking a cigarette with his other hand.. His non-stop tapping on the table’s surface was like rain as he sat in silence, waiting for the new compound between silver nitrate and the Monkshood liquid compound to be complete. It had been two hours now, and the moon was shining through a hole in the ceiling, down at John’s face. It wasn’t within the three nights of the full moon yet, but as it shined, he could feel the pull and how close he was to the change. The closer the moon was to being full, the stronger he felt. It was like this for every werewolf. Although they were powerful in their human forms, they weren’t necessarily superhuman. Merely at the peak of human conditioning, but it was during these nights of the full moon, that their strength and speed was amplified. Small groups of vampires can barely hold their own against one lunar-amped werewolf, and their urges became more primal as the moon got closer. John focused these urges on a cure. The more he could focus that energy, the more he hoped he would get closer to a cure. His mind swam with the thoughts of a cure, and how he hoped that the first time would be the charm. The hopeful part of him was strong that night, but the realist in him was still anchoring him down, in the event of failure. He knew that there was always the possibility for failure, but he had to try.
As the timer dinged, John finished the last drag in his cigarette and picked up the dictaphone and switched it on. “June the 6th, 2016. Time now, 18:21 hours. The compound is ready, and I am preparing it via syringe. I can only hope that this will either cure me, or lead me on the path to a cure. I am not sure what the mixture will even do to me, if anything. I added just enough of a silver compound, so as for my body to quickly adapt, where necessary. Of course, without the mixture of the Wolfsbane compound within this, the concentration of silver would likely kill me. There’s still a window of opportunity for it to happen, but even so, I die trying.” He switched the recorder off and walked over to a big, makeshift steel chair that had been welded into the floor. Turning a camera on in front of it, he sat in the chair and tightened a rubber tubing around his left arm as he picked up the syringe. “I am now preparing to administer the first trial into my arm. The time now, is 18:30 hours.” As a vein popped up in John’s arm, he stuck the metal syringe in and pushed down to release the fluid into his bloodstream.
What happened next happened nearly immediately. John gasped momentarily before all of the breath left his body and he was gripping his heart. Beating so loudly, that it felt as if it would fail at any moment, John could hear nothing else. His circulatory system was on fire, and he felt sicker than he ever felt before. Grasping the steel rests of the chair, John let out a struggled and deep scream as every vein in his body began to shoot outward, and he closed his eyes tight, feeling the liquid in him burn away at his muscles, heal and burn them again. Louder and louder his heart beat, as his muscles began to tighten around him. Shooting open, his eyes were now golden, but with veins popping out, and his teeth were now shap rows of dog-fangs. His fingernails began sprouting, and his muscles began to rip. Dropping to the floor, John began to vomit blood all over the ground before passing out, his features reverting back to normal as the camera continued recording in silence.
For weeks, he would leave from work to go to his lab, in order to work on a new serum. It was nearly time for a new full moon, and both Cerberus and Tera wanted to keep an eye on him before he shifted again. John was not thrilled with the idea of the change being upon him so soon again, but Cerberus was under the impression that something was going to happen soon. As much as this strange man seemed to be right about a lot of things, John simply could not let himself grow any further as a werewolf. He wanted to live his life out as a human, but knew he could only do so if he could find a cure. He took his time when he was in the Underworld studying about the various myths on werewolves, and the truths behind the tales. The truth, it appeared, was more complicated than it seemed. Werewolves normally had two forms: A Phase I, and a Phase II, and at the moment, John was only a Phase I. Werewolves evolved overtime into the second phase after nearly a year of being a Phase I. In the first Phase, werewolves were at the mercy to the moon, and their minds degraded to a feral state. The wolf was normally not evil, unless the person that was bitten was evil, thus Phase I’s only ever attacked unless agitated. Bloodlust was another thing John now had to look out for, and for werewolves, human blood was highly addictive. He would always have a craving for raw, bloodied meats, but normal food was not out of the question. Most of the books on lycanthropy explained that most of the myths got a few things wrong. The first, was that they underestimated the strength of werewolves, and their state of minds. In truth, werewolves were juggernauts, and were incredibly swift. The legend about silver was nearly universal, but John learned the truth the hard way. Even looking at silver gave him a sense of nausea.
When John examined a silver compound on his blood under a microscope, he noticed how his blood began to break down immediately, and suddenly coagulate and burn completely. The way the silver burned through his blood sample was unprecedented, and when administered with a drop of liquified Wolfsbane, the blood began to heal itself. The answer had to lay within these two compounds. For weeks, he tried looking for a way to synthesize a formula in order to test it upon himself. It was a big risk, as Phase I’s had a 99.9% mortality risk, when exposed to even a small amount of silver, which fueled the stories that werewolves only needed one silver bullet to die. The truth about Monkshood, however was different than most stories. It did have a rather unfortunate side effect of causing a werewolf to partially shift, when its pollen is inhaled, but it could also heal a werewolf from the weakening effects of silver, if administered on time. Many werewolves collected the pollen, but John managed to synthesize a liquid version of the base compound within the plant.
He sat in an uneven foldout chair, tapping his fingers against a beat up fold out table, made from some cheap metal, that had been warped from heavy materials being sat upon it over the years and smoking a cigarette with his other hand.. His non-stop tapping on the table’s surface was like rain as he sat in silence, waiting for the new compound between silver nitrate and the Monkshood liquid compound to be complete. It had been two hours now, and the moon was shining through a hole in the ceiling, down at John’s face. It wasn’t within the three nights of the full moon yet, but as it shined, he could feel the pull and how close he was to the change. The closer the moon was to being full, the stronger he felt. It was like this for every werewolf. Although they were powerful in their human forms, they weren’t necessarily superhuman. Merely at the peak of human conditioning, but it was during these nights of the full moon, that their strength and speed was amplified. Small groups of vampires can barely hold their own against one lunar-amped werewolf, and their urges became more primal as the moon got closer. John focused these urges on a cure. The more he could focus that energy, the more he hoped he would get closer to a cure. His mind swam with the thoughts of a cure, and how he hoped that the first time would be the charm. The hopeful part of him was strong that night, but the realist in him was still anchoring him down, in the event of failure. He knew that there was always the possibility for failure, but he had to try.
As the timer dinged, John finished the last drag in his cigarette and picked up the dictaphone and switched it on. “June the 6th, 2016. Time now, 18:21 hours. The compound is ready, and I am preparing it via syringe. I can only hope that this will either cure me, or lead me on the path to a cure. I am not sure what the mixture will even do to me, if anything. I added just enough of a silver compound, so as for my body to quickly adapt, where necessary. Of course, without the mixture of the Wolfsbane compound within this, the concentration of silver would likely kill me. There’s still a window of opportunity for it to happen, but even so, I die trying.” He switched the recorder off and walked over to a big, makeshift steel chair that had been welded into the floor. Turning a camera on in front of it, he sat in the chair and tightened a rubber tubing around his left arm as he picked up the syringe. “I am now preparing to administer the first trial into my arm. The time now, is 18:30 hours.” As a vein popped up in John’s arm, he stuck the metal syringe in and pushed down to release the fluid into his bloodstream.
What happened next happened nearly immediately. John gasped momentarily before all of the breath left his body and he was gripping his heart. Beating so loudly, that it felt as if it would fail at any moment, John could hear nothing else. His circulatory system was on fire, and he felt sicker than he ever felt before. Grasping the steel rests of the chair, John let out a struggled and deep scream as every vein in his body began to shoot outward, and he closed his eyes tight, feeling the liquid in him burn away at his muscles, heal and burn them again. Louder and louder his heart beat, as his muscles began to tighten around him. Shooting open, his eyes were now golden, but with veins popping out, and his teeth were now shap rows of dog-fangs. His fingernails began sprouting, and his muscles began to rip. Dropping to the floor, John began to vomit blood all over the ground before passing out, his features reverting back to normal as the camera continued recording in silence.