Chapter Text
“Let’s get out of here.” Keys jingle as a heavy iron door is unlocked and yanked open. “It’s time.”
A man nods surely as he joins the group in the dimly lit hallway of the facility. They start off towards the sealed double doors at the end, footfalls padding against concrete flooring that echo off cold walls.
“Stop!” A booming voice sounds from behind the group, gun clicking softly in the minute silence that follows.
“Shit!” One of them turns, noticing three guards. “You guys go ahead, I’ll hold them off.”
“What if-”
“Just go!”
Anxious eyes turn back ahead as the group starts running. A loud hiss and shots are fired. Breaths become laboured as they surge forward. Someone yelps and falls to the floor.
“No!”
“Leave him, Tankhun!”
The first crashes into the door, easily breaking the lock and a few hinges. Guns fire from behind a makeshift barricade of tables in the middle of a long hallway. In a blur of motion, two people break off from the anxious group and twist the necks of two guards. Before the rest of the guards can retaliate, guns are kicked from their hands and punches thrown so hard into their faces it snaps their necks at awkward angles. One of them grabs a guard’s knife.
“Let’s go!”
More guards storm towards them from a bend in the hallway.
“Fucking hell!”
The rest of the group surge forward, elongated fangs dropping as irises turn beautiful shades of gold. Some of them are a blur, efficiently getting guns in their hands and firing the shots instead. A table leg gets broken and swung against a guard’s head. Another swiftly deals punches into stomachs and chests that have its targets slamming into walls. Someone screams, another groans.
A guard with a syringe lunges forward
“Kim!”
There’s a motion of blur and the last few remaining guards fall to the ground like flies; the syringe embedded in one of the guard’s throat while the rest bleed from neck slices, a man stands heaving with knife in hand.
Wasting no time, the group moves forward, charging towards the end of the hallway. They round the corner and more men attack as they get into action. More screams are heard along with gunshots. But they have to keep going.
Rounding a corner that leads to another hallway, there’s only two shaky guards blocking their way to an iron door. The head of the group snarls and gives a wicked smile, watching as the men slowly point their guns towards each other and fire a single round into their hearts. The group charges forward, bursting through the door and into the open where the sun has mostly set, stars dotting the greyish blue sky behind willowy clouds. They make their way towards the upclimb of a grass filled slope, aiming to get cover behind the tall trees of the forest looming right at the edge. From the facility, more men yell from the exit, a few shots ringing out in the darkening night.
“Did we leave anyone?”
The head of the group halts under a tree to take a quick glance around, noting who they lost in the fight and the sustained injuries. His eyes pause at the facility.
“Let’s keep moving.”
Using their inhuman speed, the leader guides them further into the forest until all they can hear are insects.
“Kinn, I don’t think I can go any further.” A woman is slumped against a tree, hand covering a gushing cut in her side, and leg sporting a gunshot wound that oozes blood in a steady stream. Her breathing is laboured.
“Fuck. We’ll find somewhere safe and-”
“No, you know these wounds won’t heal. The poison on the weapons can kill us.”
Another from the group chimes in, “We’ll find a cure-”
“I’m already bleeding out, Macau!” She drops to the ground as her legs wobble and give way. “You have to leave me. Please.”
The group stands in stunned, mournful silence. Kinn’s eyes flicker over her form, noting her ragged breathing and trembling of lips as she tries not to cry. “I’m sorry-”
“It’s okay.” A wobbly smile appears, “I guess freedom was never meant for me. You guys should go.”
Kinn’s mouth is a thin line as he tries to find the right words to say but comes up short. He looks around the team, assessing the anxious faces waiting for him to make a decision, and inhales a shaky breath, “She’s right.”
He turns to continue on and the group solemnly follows along. But they take only a few steps before a loud explosion resounds through the night. Startled, they whip their heads around to see smoke billowing into the air, seemingly coming from the facility. Another explosion goes off and the smoke thickens.
“You guys need to leave.” The woman rasps.
With one last glance, the group of six make their way, heading further from the destruction and wreckage. Leaving behind the evidence of their tortured stay that will never be recovered.
───⊱ ༻⋅ ♰ ⋅༺ ︎⊰───
Present day.
Kinn removes his fangs from the neck of the man he has pinned to the wall, sighing into the night air of Bangkok city. He has a tight hold on the hair of the limp body in one hand, the other reaching for his communications earbud.
“Target nullified.”
The rest of the team will arrive soon and help dispose of the body at the incineration plant. For now, his work is done and he drops the body to let it slump against the wall.
“Good work, buddy. You sucked that guy dry really fast.”
“Someone’s been thirsty.”
Teasing voices sound through the comms and Kinn just manages to stop rolling his eyes. Sometimes he thinks Vegas and Kim shouldn’t be in the same team; it might just save him more than a few headaches and better stall his aging. But he loves and needs them all the same.
His brothers and cousins each have their part in the grand scheme of what they do. And Kinn doesn't want to think what he'll do if he ever lost them.
Reaching into the pocket of his black jeans, he unfurls a handkerchief and starts wiping his mouth.
It's been almost a century since they had been turned into vampires at the illegally run research facility. Kinn remembers how he had lost his parents to a plague epidemic in 1924, causing him and his brothers to become orphans overnight. The same virus had also taken Vegas's mother. It was on that damned hunt for fish in a river in the same year, having only caught a few with his brothers and cousins, when they were nabbed by a group of men while heading home.
There were other people at the facility; people of the same age as them—in their 20s—and a couple of teens, perhaps a few in their 30s. Kinn counted at least 30 people every time they were brought out of their cells for lunch, although he felt there could have been many more.
Everyone took turns going into trials and they had daily injections to comply with lest they wish to get beaten. He remembers a teen screaming during one of the doses and had to be dragged to lunch by guards the next day, all bruised and battered. It was something he knew the guards did to make an example, in a bid to keep everyone else in line.
Much time had passed, although how long he did not know. But gradually he could feel his body changing, up till the day everyone was wheeled into large wards and hooked up to blood transfusion kits containing a strange translucent pink liquid in syringes. He recalled being in the same room as his brothers and cousins, each sharing the same emotions of fear and anxiety of what was to become of them. They had overheard talks amongst the guards and scientists, of how successful tests could potentially change the world, create immunity to viruses and perhaps a new breed of humans. But then came the excruciating pain with rapid body changes, his fangs and nails grew longer, vision changed, muscles changed and felt like someone set his body ablaze from the inside. He started to crave the taste of blood.
The trials and tests increased in amount and intensity. They started to get pitted against each other in fights; which was when Kinn discovered everyone had garnered slightly different abilities. While he had gained mind control and telepathy—which he has learnt to control and better over the years—on top of better hearing, speed, sight and smell, Kim had gotten intangibility, Tankhun had gained invisibility and telekinesis, and Vegas had gained hypnosis. Macau had attained telekinesis just like Khun, to which they had yet to master in the beginning. Their diets had also changed, being given blood bags during meal times alongside experimental side dishes.
But it was these abilities that gave them courage to formulate a plan of escape, to which they had lost a few to scientists’ probing, and others during their fight for freedom.
And here they are now, working as a mercenary group for Thailand’s oldest vampire coven—although it has been long since their last encounter—to track down noncompliant rogues, ferals and the mafia. It aided the government in keeping peace and order.
Kinn’s gaze sweeps over the body of the lifeless feral he had drank from moments ago. He had tried his best to bring the vampire back from his feral state, but the bloodlust had consumed the fledgling, leading Kinn to having to subdue the vampire. He usually doesn’t drink from targets, but as the brawl had gone the way it had with the feral’s fangs always getting too close and Kinn had stupidly forgotten his knife, he was left with no choice. He could have just bashed the feral's head in, but that meant too much mess, and mind control was useless against the wild creature. Drinking from another vampire was like any other blood, other than the taste always having a slight bitterness.
He hears before he sees two sleek black cars roll up right outside the alley.
“There’s our hero of the night!”
Kinn scoffs, “Hello to you too, Vegas.” He turns to nod at the other two arrivals. “Kim, Macau.”
Kim nods back, “Hi brother. Macau and Vegas will take it from here as planned.”
He hums noncommittally, crossing the short distance to the car his younger brother is leaning against. They'll need to give a quick run down of tonight's events to Tankhun who's waiting for them back home.
Kinn hopes he'll have peaceful nights for at least a week or so.
───⊱ ༻⋅ ♰ ⋅༺ ︎⊰───
Somewhere in the city, hidden behind old houses and lines of trees, a crowd roars as the high of adrenaline sweeps through. The throng stands in a circle around an abandoned swimming pool, music thrumming hard from large speakers, egging the two people in the center of it all.
With a growl, one of the two launches at the other, aiming to grapple at a slim waist. The man slips away easily and brings a leg up to knee him in the face. As he rears back from pain and shock, the man quickly sends a roundhouse kick to the side of his head.
The crowd roars as the guy hits the ground hard, groaning as he tries to hoist himself up. But the man gives him no leverage. Flinging his arms up once to hype the crowd, the man rounds on the guy and sends a kick to his side and a punch to the head. The guy groans louder and tries to get up, to which the man responds with a punch to his face, already bruised from the lengthy fight.
A man just off to the side starts counting down. The guy places an arm on the floor, heaving himself up an inch before it gives out. A whistle blows and yell of “Time! The Phoenix wins!” rings out through the speakers, setting the majority of the crowd into a roar of cheers.
“Porsche! You did great man!” A guy with tattooed arms comes up to the winner.
“Thanks Jom.” Porsche sends a small smile, split lip still lightly bleeding, knuckles and ribs bruised.
They head over to a guy with a thick wad of cash in his hands who looks up with a small smile of his own and extends out some of the bills. “Here’s your winnings for tonight.”
As Porsche takes the cash into his hands and starts counting, a frown appears on his face. “Is this all?”
“Hey, I’m just following the boss's orders.” He holds up both hands in surrender. “Anyways, here’s the other things.” The man turns around and picks up a brown paper bag, handing it to Porsche who glances at the contents.
“Thanks.”
“Don’t thank me, thank the boss.” The man waves a hand. “I’m heading off now. You take care.”
Porsche sends him a farewell nod as Jom claps him on the shoulder. “Here, take my winnings too. I betted on you.”
“I can’t do that!” He pushes Jom’s hand back. “This is yours.”
“It’s fine, man. You still have a brother to raise.” He stuffs the bills into Porsche’s jeans pocket much to his yelp of protest. “Just take it.”
Porsche looks at him with parted lips, brows drawn together in a frown as he battles with the want to accept or reject. After a moment, he just sighs and claps Jom on the shoulder, rubbing it lightly as he smiles and eyes shine with sincerity, “Thanks man.”
“Let’s go home.” Jom says as he starts towards the exit. “I’m sure Porchay is waiting for you.”
And sure enough, as Porsche rolls his bike to a stop in front of his house and unbuckles his helmet, the front door opens and a chirpy “Hia!” reaches his ears.
His brother jogs up to the gate to unlock it and comes around to wrap Porsche in a hug just as he dismounts. Chuckles fill the air as Porsche returns the hug. “Hey, Chay.” But his brother sniffs him once and wrinkles his nose, “You stink of sweat and blood.” He looks up then and gently traces along Porsche’s split lip, “Better get your wounds treated, Hia.” And there’s that look of sympathy, of pain in Porchay’s eyes that he feels guilty and ashamed of putting there every time his brother sees him all beaten up.
In retaliation for the earlier comment and not wanting to face Porchay’s sad gaze, Porsche ruffles his brother's hair which causes the younger to whine. “Okay, okay. Got some dinner for you by the way.”
Porsche knows his brother is already 20 years old and is already almost the same height as him, but he can’t help but still see him sometimes as that bumbling little boy who used to cry when he stubbed his toe. In a way, he understands what a parent feels when they see their kids all grown up.
He takes out the paper bag from the trunk box to hand it over and Porchay’s eyes light up further.
“Let’s go inside before you start eating, hmm?” He ruffles his brother’s hair again which gets him a swat and happy giggles as Porchay bounds ahead.
Locking the gate behind him, Porsche eventually joins his brother in the dining room, who is happily taking out the contents of the bag. Five blood bags filled with crimson liquid glint under the LED lights as Porchay digs into a cupboard for a mug.
Seeing the blood bags these days no longer dig up painful memories in Porsche; it hasn’t for a few years now, although some feelings of guilt still bubble under his skin. What happened 12 years ago was a freak accident, a twisted game that fate had played, and all because of a bill note flying in the wind. It was just another night where Porsche brought his baby brother out for dinner and their uncle Arthee was gambling somewhere. Porchay had seen a street cart selling some skewers during their stroll and wanted to eat some, and Porsche being the indulging and tender brother he is, had decided to buy one of each selection: beef, chicken and pork.
He had just paid for the skewers and turned to tell Porchay it’ll take a few minutes, but realised his brother was gone. With widened eyes and quickened heartbeat, he had called out for his brother, turning to look all around and darting along the roadside in both directions, anxiousness rising with every second. Making a split second decision, he sprinted down the direction from where they came, passing by darkened shops and a narrow alley. He even turned into a 7-11, bumping into shelves and almost tripped on his way out.
Porsche remembers the desperate scream of his brother’s name he had let out as his breathing started to come in short. He continued sprinting in the same direction and passed by another alley. But then came to a halt and backtracked.
The alley was so dark, with only a singular flickering lightbulb hanging outside a closed shutter in the near distance. But what caught his attention wasn’t that. There’s a figure crouched on the ground, behind a tall potted plant. Beneath the figure seemed to be a boy lying on his back, a white Skechers shoe missing. Porsche could recognise that shoe anywhere; it was a birthday gift from him and uncle Arthee.
Sucking in a gasp of shock and fear, he noticed a metal pipe leaning against the wall beside him and picked it up. Without thinking, he charged forward. The figure suddenly turned around with a snarl, sharp elongated fangs bared and glinting with blood, lips dripping crimson, eyes an endless pitch black. Porsche swung the pipe with all the strength he could muster, knocking the vampire to the side. Before it could round back to attack, Porsche swung the pipe again, efficiently knocking it to the ground. It let out a loud snarl but Porsche was ready and started bringing the pipe down over and over its face, breaking bones and taking out its eyes. The vampire swung out a clawed hand and managed to catch Porsche in the shin, drawing blood immediately. He had hissed in pain but stomped as hard as he could on the outstretched arm, causing the vampire to howl. Porsche continued to stomp with his shoe until he broke bones. The vampire, unable to see, just thrashed about. Without pausing, he brought the bloodied metal pipe down once more, fracturing the vampire’s skull, and continued the action until the creature twitched to a stop.
Breathing laboured and heart feeling like it's about to jump out of his chest, Porsche had flung the pipe to ground and dropped to his knees to crawl towards his brother who was barely breathing, eyes unseeing and hooded. Porsche had started unconsciously mumbling his brother's name, panicked and not knowing what to do until his eyes glanced over the unmoving vampire and he recalled a memory of being told of how a human could turn. Sniffling, he’d gone to pick up the pipe with trembling hands and gathered as much oozing vampire blood from the battered body inside the metal, before kneeling beside his brother once more and tilting the liquid into Porchay’s mouth which he held open with a hand. He had even used a finger to wipe down the metal, ensuring all the blood he could see was given to his brother. He felt disgust as he did it, mixed in with the fear and worry that gripped his heart like a vice.
Porsche had then sat back, legs weak and shaking as he gathered his limp brother onto his lap, gently rocking them back and forth as he pleaded for Porchay to come back.
It seemed like forever before Porchay took in a shuddering breath, eyes trying to focus as they stared at Porsche. “Hia?” The question came out raspy but it was all he needed to gather his brother into a hug, sobs coming out uncontrolled. However, when Porchay mentioned he smelled good, Porsche had startled as if he had been electrocuted and pushed his brother away, throwing him off his lap and crawling backwards. He could see the confusion in his brother’s eyes, along with a flicker of something wild as his irises turned gold.
But Porchay just stared at him before his head snapped to the side to stare at the dead vampire instead. And in a split second, had launched himself at the body and started feeding. Porsche could only stare in horror as he watched on. And when Porchay had turned his eyes back on him, his heart was in his throat. He thought his brother was going to attack him, but the bite never came. Instead, his brother had lunged at a stray cat behind and buried his fangs in it. The yowls of the cat were so loud.
When Porchay was done, mouth bloodied and eyes shining intense gold, did he drop the dead cat and turn to look at his brother, hands trembling in front of him. “Porsche, what’s happening to me?” The latter could hear the tremor in his brother’s voice, see past the hunger in his eyes to feel his confusion and fear. “W-what have I done? H-Hia… What am I?”
Recalling the stories he had heard before, Porsche understood it took a lot of restraint for a vampire to control their initial urges to feed, to tame the darker side of themselves that yearned for blood and not become feral. Usually, they needed a senior vampire to guide them through the process as they adjust to their new senses and body changes.
It grew his pride and love for Porchay. The incident allowed him to see his brother’s inner strength, embracing him for who he is even more. For who is he if not his precious baby brother who had the strength of a burning blaze?
As Porchay empties the contents of a blood bag into a mug and takes a sip, he stares at him. “Aren’t you eating?”
He smiles, fondness shining in his eyes and words, “Yeah, I was just thinking I have the most amazing brother in the world.” Kissing his brother’s head as he passes by on the way to the fridge, fishing out a food container with yesterday’s leftover dinner. “I’ll have this.”
“I thought you wanted that braised pork rice from your favourite stall?”
Porsche shrugs, “Changed my mind. I’ll probably buy it tomorrow.” He pops the container into the microwave. “Any food cravings?”
Porchay takes another drink, humming in contemplation. “Tom Yum!” He smiles. “Feel like eating something spicy.”
It took some time before they both realised Porchay could still eat normal human food. One day when Porsche was having breakfast and decided to answer a friend’s text—Arthee still passed out from drinking the night before—, Porchay had snuck a bite of his scrambled egg claiming he was hungry and the food smelled good. However, the tales of fatal vampiric garlic allergies had Porsche scrambling to find out which dishes to avoid still. Porchay didn’t need blood all the time, just every few days to keep up his strength as human food didn’t seem to quite nourish his body for long.
At first, Porchay had refused to drink from anything with a beating heart, his guilt of killing the stray cat never leaving his conscience until years later. But the hunger and urge for blood had become too great, and they had to set up traps for rats and other animals. Human food still tasted the same way it always had, though.
Porsche sends him a thumbs up for his order and creates a mental note to buy Tom Yum from their favourite place. He’s glad becoming a vampire didn’t take away his brother’s human taste buds.