Morbius 2099UG #11

A homeless man known formerly as The Son finds himself the victim of a
macabre project that had been carried out by Alchemax in the years
shortly after his birth. By day he hides in the confines of a Downtown
church, but by night he metamorphoses into a ghastly creature --
predatory, beast-like, stealthy and highly intelligent. He hunts those
who made him what he is, and will not rest until he has exacted
ultimate vengeance -- and become human.

His new name, in the vein of his savior, is MORBIUS.

***********************************************************************
"cuz I ain't gonna work for no soul-suckin jerk
   I'm gonna take it all back and I ain't sayin jack
   cuz I ain't gonna work for no soul-suckin jerk
   I'm gonna take it all back and I ain't sayin jack"
                                -- Beck, "Soul Suckin Jerk"
***********************************************************************

For the first time in days things had finally quieted down. Just the
thought of all the events which has transpired in the last few days made Le'Osha dizzy. Well, her lack of sleep probably paid a small part in that as well, she thought. She quickly reflected upon everything while Strange looked over Morbius. As of right now, there wasn't much she could do for her dear friend. She could only pray to her vodun gods, and pray that some of them wasn't listening!

She stepped back from the scene, escaping into the shadows that the
candlelight produced. Morbius was laid out on a stone altar, and
Strange was looking over him. Le'Osha leaned with her back against the
wall, and slid to the floor, holding her head in between her legs. She
was thankful that things had finally settled down, for when Morbius
awoke she feared that handling him mentally would be more difficult than anything that she had experienced in the past few days. Tetragammon's mists had finally dissipated, the vodun community had finally stopped expanding, and the ones that remained were now entertaining the thought that long dead Marie Laveau, the most powerful vodun priestess to ever live, had come back to save them. The thought sent chills through her. At least she's keeping them occupied she thought. Elga had taken care of the man that Morbius was carrying when he arrived and she would soon have to look after the young girl that the Baron had possessed. It was proving to be traumatic for the youth.

She sighed weakly. However, none of the events that played out in her
mind would have prepared her for what was about to happen. While
defending her temple, the Loa, Morbius had taken one final step that he
had promised himself he would never do. He tasted the blood of a human, and in the process had stolen the possessed man's life. He had went hysterical. Tears ran from his eyes as he looked upon her. The thought brought tears to her own eyes. The look upon young Morbius's face had torn her apart. It was the look of one who had given it all up. It was much like the look upon her father's face right before he had killed himself. The similarity was what she feared, and she would not let Morbius take that route. The Baron Samedi had possessed her father, ruining his vodun community in New Orleans, and their family. Upon coming to New York City to escape the chaos that ensued he had shot himself. She had seen him right before he entered his bedroom for the last time, and the sound of the blaster filled her mind every time she fought down the urge to let the Baron possess her as well. She was not about to let the Baron rob her of someone else either. . .never again.

Strange had cast a spell upon him, robbing him of his consciousness
before he could hurt himself. They carried him into the temple, into a
room where they could take care of him. Strange also wanted to study
his ability to "suck blood." She knew that it was much more complex
than that, just as she knew that Morbius would welcome any answers that
might help him aid in his search. He knew what he was, but he had no
idea what he was capable of, and perhaps her explanation would help
soothe the young man's broken soul.

Strange turned to walk over to Le'Osha. She had been tracking down a
vodun killer the last few days and the trail had led to the vodun
temple, the Loa. What she found there was much more than she had
expected. The Baron Samedi had seduced some of the newer members of the vodun faith with his promises of power. In an attempt to gain his
approval they made various sacrifices, using their fellow Downtown
denizens for a gift. That was how Strange had found Le'Osha and learned about her past with the Baron, and of his intentions. If he was capable of ridding the world of the last vodun priestess, then he could become the head of their faith, and the more earthly support he had, the better his chances got of manifesting himself in the material world that he loved so much. This was a serious matter, and the emergence of the woman claiming to be Marie Laveau disturbed her greatly. Her help was needed, and thanks to the death of the possessed man at the hands of Morbius, she was needed more than ever.

"What a mess," Le'Osha sighed as she looked up.

"Everything's going to be okay," Strange replied. Then she looked over
at Morbius and shook her head. "At least for the time being. . ."

The tense quiet was finally broken by the sound of Morbius coughing,
fighting the deep sleep that he had been placed under. The two walked
over to him, and stared down upon his exhausted body. He lay there with his eyes wide open, not blinking, and the silence grasped them again. His mouth moved slowly, as if whispering to himself, but he said
nothing.
***********************************************************************
Within the Loa Temple
***********************************************************************

The room was dark; however, not quite as dark as his previous cell in
the Samson Memorial Institute. The solitude did remind him of the
experience. He was alone, and he had once again vacated the real
world. He was a victim of his dreams once again. Although he was
content with the fact that he had finally found the source of his
nightmares, the thought of being imprisoned by this creature sent cold
chills throughout his entire body. The thoughts tingled from nerve to
nerve as he sat in the corner. The source of his troubles was known as
Morbius, and he had his own problems to deal with, for he lay
unconscious on a slab of stone within the temple of the Loa. However,
he had those looking over him to gain support, and the man, who insisted that his name was Abraham Lincoln, only had himself. . .and his memories.

Perhaps the most ironic aspect of the situation was the fact
that their roles were reversed. The memories that flooded Lincoln's
fragmented mind included visions from the early experiments in the
Morbius Project. He could recall testing various specimens, merely
small children at the time, staring at them through the cold, steel bars that surrounded them. Few knew of Alchemax's attempt to create this special breed of human, and he hadn't seen any of his fellow scientists involved for many years. He often considered the fact that he wouldn't. Uncle Alchemax had taken care of that, he thought with
clenched fists. They had messed with his mind, stirring it like one
does a lumpy milkshake, or bombarding it with enough energy to fry an
elephant. He knew that this "lobotomy" was his punishment for being
involved in the macabre procedure.

The faces of the dead children often haunted him when he fell
into sleep. This was just one of many distorted images floating within
the realms of REM induced slumber. However, one material piece of
evidence remained. His hand slowly slid across the scar that he had
earned during the trial run of pseudo-vampires. Alchemax had desired agents that they could use to ensure that they remained the most powerful corporation in the world, but instead they inherited the legend of Morbius, The Living Vampire. All of their specimens died save one. And thanks to the rebellious nature of one Dr. Michael Fielding, he lived. . .and was released. Lincoln remembered this creature, and he was the one that he vowed to destroy. The Project was meant to fail, for the goodof mankind, and this freak teenager was the
sole remnant their misguided efforts. Tears of frustration ran
down his face. He was quite insane, but even the delusions of
the mad could not enforce the notion that he was imagining it all.

He had already decided what the next step was. He was unaware
of the events surrounding the Baron Samedi and Morbius's recent
exploits, which, led to the murder of a possessed man. He only knew of
the past. The image of the pale, clawed hand was embedded in his mind,
and no amount of Alchemax tampering could erase it. It was bizarre, the way it happened. The creatures only stirred at night, and he was on assignment. He was to observe the remaining specimens inside their
scientific cages. They only awoke at night, and he had been having a
hard time adjusting to the alternating schedule of night and day. At
that point, the researchers involved were unaware of the hunger that
manifested deep within the Project's models. They had noticed gradual
changes taking place in the physical characteristics of the creatures,
but they merely hypothesized that the changes were due to the aging of
the control group. Pure arrogance had taken the place of scientific
research, and they didn't test the new observations. The hunger had
made the specimens more powerful in all areas. That was why many had
died during the process of the Project. . .they had starved to death.
Their metabolism was unstable and only the last minute attempt to save
the project resulted in the success of the figure in Downtown known as
the Son. . .the one who took up the name Morbius.

Morbius's hand was clutched at his chest as Lincoln bowed down
to observe and document the psychical changes in one of the last
remaining specimens. As he lowered his head the hunger drove Morbius
to strike out, his clawed hand lashing out at Lincoln's face. Lincoln?
Abraham Lincoln? Was that his name, he questioned himself. He wasn't sure, but he knew that it was no longer important. He returned to his memories, as they were the only things that seemed real to him. He had leapt back just as the sharp claws that extended from the pseudo-vampire's hand tore away at the flesh of his face. The blood began to pour from that wound as he stared in amazement. The moonlight outlined the savage face of the youth, and it sparkled off of his long fangs. They had succeeded, but what had he gotten into? He no longer knew. . .and the realization scared him.

And that covered his first confrontation with the Son. Long
before young Morbius made a life in Downtown, this mentally challenged
patient had served as one of the scientists in the research that led to
the development of this sector's protector. And, now he had made up his mind. Just as the young Morbius had lashed out to strike him from his cage, he would follow his lead. . .ensuring that the creature that he had once overlooked would never forget his name. He would live with the same nightmares that he had. ..with the roles reversed once again. He chuckled to himself, and despite the fact that it sounded foreign within the makeshift cell, he welcomed it.

***********************************************************************
The Streets of Downtown
***********************************************************************

The tall, sleek figure of a young man walked bravely through the
deserted streets. His muscles stretched as he strolled with his head
down, his arms folded behind him. The long, black hair covered the
vacant look that had become chiseled on his face. His pale skin could
easily be seen, for he had ripped away the remains of the leather top
that he had worn to hold back his demonic wings. The black, leather
pants accented the dangerous look of the youth, and any bystanders that
happened to be out, and alive, made quick time to the nearest building
or side street. Morbius had fled from the temple, and no one had dared
follow him.

The anger and guilt swelled deep within him. What kind of monster was
he? He had always been able to overlook his thirst for energy because
he fed off of smaller life forms. He had always feared that he may not
be able to control his lust, and that sooner or later he would take the
life of another human being. This all made his mind go back to the
Dealer. . .the Angel of Death. He had boasted that he hunted for
energy, not just out of need, but out of pure enjoyment. He had
actually suggested that Morbius would fall victim to the same
affliction. And a tear escaped Morbius's eye, and slid down his pale
face as he realized in grave silence that his "brother" had been right.
He knew that he was draining too much. Did he really feel that he
needed to absorb the possessed man to protect Le'Osha and her temple, or did he merely do it out of his lack of control?

His need for blood had been far too much. He had tasted the blood of
his "brother" in order to stop him from feasting on the Fenris. (Back In Thor 2099 UG # 4 -- Jason) Now, how much longer would it be before he fell to that level? How long would it be before Morbius began hunting the population of Downtown for the pleasure of the kill? How long would it take for him to start hunting innocent children and the elderly just to keep up with his addiction? The thought drove him mad. He looked at his hands as they shook. They had been wiped clean of the blood, but he could still feel it. . .

He turned and fell against the wall. He clutched at his face, gasping
for air. He was loosing it. He couldn't handle the fact that he was
nothing more than a murder. He wasn't a hero. He couldn't protect the
people of Downtown when he had to worry about stopping himself from
actually killing them. He wasn't a real vampire, so why did he crave it so? He knew that he would die without the energy. He knew that he
would collapse into depths of starvation, no matter how much food he
consumed. It wasn't the actual blood that he needed, it was something
else. The blood only seemed to make it more appealing. It made the
legend some more real, and once again he was living under that delusion.

He stood to his feet and looked around. I might not be a real vampire,
he thought, but one thing is for sure. . .I need blood, or something in
it. These are answers that I must have. Finally, Morbius wrapped his
arms around himself and turned back toward the temple. Any answers he
may find about his condition, his need, would be found with the
Sorceress Supreme.

In the distance, high above the form of Morbius, the pseudo-vampire, a
deep mist began to condense, forming the shape of a man. The mist grew
darker as it gained material elements. Finally, there stood a tall
figure, clad in black. His eyes lit up in the night like a funeral
pyre, and he sniffed at the night air. This young man smelled like he
had been tainted by blood. For some reason this dark figure felt as if
he were drawn toward the youth, as if he were some kind of magnet. The
man was historically known as Dracula, and unlike Morbius, he was very
much a real vampire. He would not have false contenders in the legend.
Saliva filled his mouth in eerie anticipation. He was going to make
Morbius face the truth. . .there was only one real vampire in New York,
and Dracula intended to make sure there was no mistake of who it
was. . .

However, there was yet another one. Why had the legends been tainted
so? Had man's thirst for power grown so great as to have them actually
try and replicate his condition? This surpassed his understanding. Why would man copy something that they had feared throughout the ages? This angered him even more so. At least, this one wasn't stalking the
masses, as the so called "Angel of Death." The new legend of this pseudo-vampire was spreading rapidly. Dracula stood, taking in the cool night air.

The hunt was on.

***********************************************************************
London, England
***********************************************************************

Sweat began to build upon his brow as his legs furiously pumped. He
could feel the cold, hard floor pounding beneath the arches of his
feet. His muscles stretched, and his hand flew up in one mighty sweep
to clear the perspiration that was pouring into his eyes. He turned his head to see if anyone was following him. As of yet, he was left alone, although it hardly did him any good. Tyler Stone was lost inside Drekk Industries, and no matter how amazing his new body was, it didn't amount to anything. Finally, he stopped as he realized that he may not have anywhere to run to. What did he have to run?

Alchemax had been destroyed. The last reports that he had heard stated
that Spider-Man and Miguel O' Hara were both assumed dead. He had
nothing there. His old job was gone, and if he turned his back on
Drekk, he wouldn't even have his new and improved health. All of his
old status and prestige meant nothing now. He stood with his back
against the wall. He looked around, noticing all of the doors, as if he were in some sort of ward. He tried one, and found that it was locked. Suddenly, a noise caught him by surprise, and he whipped around to find a team of Drekk nurses stomping down the hallway.

Tyler Stone turned to run, pushing his new body into motion once
again. One thing was for sure, he wasn't going to let this miracle, his second chance, go to waste. Drekk may have bought his new body, but he wasn't going to sign his rebirth away without knowing some facts.

"Mister Stone, please stop," called one of the nurses. "It appears
that you forgot to sign your contract, Mr. Stone!"

Stone stopped running and lashed out at one of the doors in the
hallway. It was locked. He looked back frantically as the group began
to grow even closer. Tyler Stone hadn't made it this far in life by
giving up, and he didn't intend to start now. He grabbed at another
door handle, and found it locked as well. He slipped his hand around
yet another and gasped as he felt the familiar jerk of a door that
wouldn't open. Finally, he began to run again, when something caught
his eye. Or rather someone, he thought.

He stopped and looking into the portal shaped window that peered into
the small, confined room. His eyes adjusted to the lighting of the
cell, and his mouth dropped open with shock. He began to smack his hand against the glass, trying to get the attention of the man inside. He recognized him. . .but, from where? Why was he here? Stone barely
looked around as he saw another figure in a long, winding robe of
brilliant colors step out from the shadows. The man grinned with fanged teeth, and his smile grew even bigger as he slipped out a gun-shaped apparatus. He delicately pushed a button on the machine, and Stone's body began to collapse.

He could feel his body begin to shut down, ignoring the pleas that his
brain sent out. He tried to fight it and stared inside the room as he
slid to the floor. Finally, he found himself lying motionless on the
same hard floor that he had daringly ran across. No more running now,
he thought. His legs wouldn't work, and it was as if he were bound for
the wheelchair again. However, it didn't have to be that way, at least, not forever. Stone looked up at the one who had taken his ability to move. Fear swelled deep within his chest. What kind of company hired employees like this? He had hired his share of bizarre employees, but never one so. . .bestial. The light radiated from his fangs, and he watched as the clawed hand replaced the device that could cause him intense pain so easily. His head was beginning to ache. One of the men who looked similar had explained that they didn't work for Drekk. . .they had been merely hired for their talents. He referred to his boss as "Master." Stone shivered as he thought of meeting their Master. If is employees were this hideous. . .

"Mr. Stone, what about your contract? I'd hate to think that Drekk
flew you all the way out here, and gave you this down payment only to
have you turn your back on us," the head nurse whispered.

Stone looked at his new body in the reflection of the nurse's metallic
uniform, and then at the door which featured mystery guest
number. . .well, he had lost count. There were so many questions that needed to be answered, and there was only one way of finding the solutions.

"Shock," he murmured. "Where do I sign?"

"Right on the dotted line," the nurse said as she grasped his hand.
Stone attempted to jerk back, but found the nurse's grasp to be quite
powerful. She pulled out a small, ornamental knife, and slashed at his
wrist. He gritted his teeth and tried not to show the pain and fear
that was running rampant in his mind. If he had a chance of making the
best out of this situation, he was going to have to play hardball with
these sharks.

Stone closed his eyes as his blood dripped down from his wrist onto the
electric pad, recording his DNA, "signing" the contract. Then he said
with a harsh tone, "There. Happy now? I certainly hope so, because now it's your turn to do something for me. First of all, you can get me off of this floor and into some real clothes. I just don't feel as
professional as I used to in this hospital relic."

"Yes, sir," the nurse smiled.

***********************************************************************The Loa Temple, Downtown, Nueva York
***********************************************************************

Le'Osha was kneeling at the altar of the temple. She had been there
for as long as she could remember. It had been long before night had
fallen, but she had to hold on to her faith. It was the only constant
in this entire situation. Morbius had scared her, and that was a
first. Even when she first met him, saw him in action, and had to watch him feed she had been able to accept what he was. Even after he
accidentally killed that man, she was able to hold him as he wept. The
last words he had spoken to her rang loudly in her head.

"But, it was an accident, Morbius," she had cried to him. He wouldn't
even look at her, and he hadn't spoken to anyone in the room. "Let
Missus Strange, here, help you out. Sure enough you want answers,
Morbius. That's all you've been looking for since the beginning."

Then, what he had said to her next had shocked her. She had never
heard his tone so cold, or so menacing. It was the only thing he said
before he stormed off from the temple. He looked at her with a grim
expression and said, "How do you know it was an accident?"

The thought made Le'Osha cry even more. She had to be strong, but how
could she with everything falling apart? At least, she had Strange to
comfort her. The young sorceress was off observing the character of
Marie Laveau. She was awfully suspicious of the woman, but Le'Osha had
given it little thought. Finally, she stopped crying and silence
overtook her. She would deal with the return of this vodun priestess
soon, but right now Morbius's welfare was more important. The silence
that had finally calmed her was not to last, however.

The double doors of the temple flew open with a loud crash, and Le'Osha
turned ready to defend herself. She was expecting another attack from
the Baron Samedi. And what she saw was even more menacing. Morbius
stood before her with his muscles tensed, his chest pumping up and down
to get enough oxygen. He was fighting the hunger once again, but he
showed no signs of transformation. He was doing all he could to stay
normal...well, as normal as he could get.

"Mo--Morbius," she cried out. She started to run toward him, but
thought better of it, and slowly approached him. "You're back."

"I'm here for answers," he said roughly.

"Yes, well, I thought you'd come back, Morbius. Won't you rest for
awhile first?"

Morbius just looked at her with mild interest as he headed for one of
the doorways that led into the temple. Le'Osha followed him, and yet
she now feared him. So much had changed in the small amount of time
that had managed to pass. The past few days seemed like months, and she could only hope that things would return to normal, even though, she knew that it was impossible. Morbius had stepped over the boundary that he had created for himself, and he would never allow his mind to rest until he found out why he existed as the monster he had become.

As they passed through the dark halls the moonlight danced from the
windows onto his body. His muscles were tensed and Le'Osha could see
the beads of sweat that formed a thin layer on his muscular back.
Le'Osha could see the wings beneath his skin swell, ready to burst
forth, as if she were watching some horror vid from the early 2080's.
She would have never pictured herself in a situation like this. . .she
was following a very dangerous, and quite possibly mad, man deep into a
vodun temple. Not only that, but, she was doing it willingly.

"I must be loosing it for sure," she whispered to herself.

Morbius continued stalking down the hallway, before finally coming to a
door. He looked up toward the stairs, and then out the window. Out in
the one time parking lot, turned park, he saw the beautiful Marie
Laveau. Le'Osha tried to squeeze past him so that she could open the
door leading outside, in hopes that he would follow her. Morbius would
have none of it, as he lashed out, grabbing Le'Osha by the collar. He
gently pulled her close.

As he looked up toward the stairs he said, "Le'Osha, why do you try and
keep me from the truth? I thought you cared. What are you and that
demonic witch up to?"

"Witch? Why, Morbius, you're talking fool take for sure," she gulped.

"Bah," Morbius said as he released her turning to the stairs. She
watched as he climbed them in eerie silence. It was as if he was
floating, his feet never touching the floor. Such stealth was
incredible, and even the mystically powerful Strange could not detect
his approaching presence. She sat there with her legs crossed on one of the old church's wooden beams. She stared out of the old broken window, shaped like a cross. She was watching Marie Laveau.

He quickly grabbed a handful of hair, pulling her to her feet. She
struggled against him, but he might quickly overpowered her. His
strength was growing. . .a sign that he wouldn't be able to hold off for long. He held her by the throat, almost chocking her with his powerful grasp. He looked down at her exposed throat and began to drool for a moment. He did need to feed. Finally, he managed to snap out of it. . .he wouldn't go that route again. He pushed her forward and stared at her with dark pupils.

"What the shock did you think you were doing," she bellowed.

"I should ask you the same thing," he whispered through his hoarse
throat.

"I was watching her," Strange said as she pointed out toward Marie
Laveau. "You brought her here without questioning her? Trust me, Morb, people don't just reappear from the dead without an explanation. I've had experience with that sort of thing. Have I told you about the time that Spider-Man and I...oh, we were back in Mexico, well, we--"

"Would you shut up with your pointless drivel? You act as if this is
some kind of game. Well, Strange, you trust ME in this," he said as he
drew near to her, "I'm not playing some kind of Heroic Age super-hero
fantasy. This is real. I don't want to be your "ally" and I don't want to be your friend. All I want is answers. . .and you're going to give them to me."

Strange looked at him with a shocked expression. She opened her mouth
to protest at first, but then quickly shut it. Finally, she replied,
"Well, would you like to try and beat me to a pulp for answers right
now, or would you rather go somewhere that we can talk?"

Morbius stared at her. "Lead the way."

***********************************************************************
Somewhere In Downtown
***********************************************************************

The Angel of Death was quite used to his life as a predator. He had
preyed upon those in Downtown who sought to escape their life with the
promise of finding their own personal nirvana in the products that he
peddled. He was their friendly, neighborhood Dealer. If it was illegal and addictive, then Jacen Boone sold it. He had the latest in VR plugs and accessories, Chain, Stash, and the last substance that he got mixed up in had been his last deal. VX-1 had been the drug of choice for many until it's effects were learned. Jacen's brother Jordan had gone through a lot of trouble getting a hold of the stuff. The Dealer had known that he would make a killing off of a drug that Alchemax wouldn't even release to the public. Unfortunately, it was an accident that he had rendered him the ultimate addict. It was the event which lead to his becoming the Angel of Death in the first place.

However, he had learned to become a predator, dealing death to the
unwashed masses of Downtown, and the rich, black card wielding
executives of Uptown alike. He was beginning to enjoy his new niche,
but, now things had changed once again. The Angel sat behind an old
chimney. His back was pressed against it hard, and he covered himself
with his massive wings. He flinched at ever shadow that danced or
slightly moved in the night. His role in the scheme of things had come
to an end. He was now the hunted. He was now the prey for some other
predator of the night.

And that predator's name was Dracula.

***********************************************************************
The Loa Temple, Downtown
***********************************************************************

Le'Osha sat away from the conversation, as if it would save her from
it's mad concepts, and the truth behind Morbius's "feeding." Strange
stood with her back against a wall, spouting off about things that
Le'Osha had never heard of. . .and in such a short time, things that she wish she never HAD heard of. Morbius sat in front of a small fire with his legs crossed. Sweat drenched his back, and his hands hung over his leather clad knees. . .and they were shaking. Silence had stolen the discussion for quite some time.

"You mean to tell me that I actually steal souls," Morbius announced
suddenly. The cold tones that infiltrated his speech shook Le'Osha to
the bone.

"Well, it does sound really dramatic, I must admit," Strange replied.
"But, ya know, it's not that big of a deal. We've had visual proof of
the soul for a long time. Have you ever heard of psychic photography?
It shows off the Kyrlian aura quite well. . ."

Strange's speech trailed off into silence as she saw Morbius rise to
his feet. She watched him carefully as he lurched over to the table,
and stabled himself with both arms. His body shook violently from his
recent lack of feeding.

"My condition. . .no big deal? No BIG DEAL!? You mean to tell me that
I have fangs, and with them I suck the essence of a creature. . .their
VERY BEING. . .perhaps killing them in the process, and that's not a big deal? I STEAL SOULS, AND IT'S NOT A BIG DEAL!?"

Morbius grabbed the table, launching it up against wall. Splinters
shot in various directions, acting as if it was an artificial firing
squad. Le'Osha crawled into the corner. Strange stood her ground
staring at Morbius with sympathetic eyes. She opened her mouth to stay
something, but Morbius cut her off.

"And what exactly do I do with this energy, this Nimbus, as you called
it!? What do I do with the souls I absorb? Well? Answer me," he
demanded.

"I think someone needs to switch to syn-caff," Strange grumbled.

He glanced at the priestess in the corner, and regret swelled within
his chest. He wished that he had not burdened himself upon Le'Osha. It would have been better for her if he had never had stumbled into her
church. Why couldn't she be like everyone else? Why couldn't she hate
him, or fear him because of his condition. Now, he knew, why he could
never go back. Things had changed in the small amount of time captured
in a single day. . .Le'Osha now feared him. Through it all she had
stayed by the side of Downtown's Son, but now, she was just like
everyone else. . .and he was even more alone.

"This power doesn't have to be a curse," Strange said. "There have
been plenty of heroes in the past who turned their faults to good use.
So what, you need to absorb the energy of others to live? That doesn't
have to be a bad thing. . .there are plenty of people out there who
don't deserve to continue living their immoral lives. Even your
namesake turned his condition to this end. Morbius was a hero, and so
are you. Use your power wisely. . ."

"Wisely? You want me to use my power wisely? And how would I do
that? The wisest thing for me to do is let the hunger consume me. .
.let it eat me from the inside out. Morbius was no hero, and neither am I. He was a man driven by a curse, and that, Strange, is where the
similarities stop. He was looking for a way to change, a cure. He
wanted to go back. I can't go back, I can only look forward. I, too,
am driven by my curse. . .driven to find out who made me this way and
why. I cannot rest until the day I punish the one who made me the
monster that I have become."

"Hey, you're overlooking some things. What exactly did make you choose
the name Morbius? I thought it was out of inspiration. . .but, I can
see that I was wrong. Morbius used his unfortunate condition to bring
punishment to those who deserved it. He used his abilities
responsibly. You can too. . .use the legend as inspiration, not a
category. Didn't you and Spider-Man rough it up a little not long ago?
See, you're reverting to type. You could use your powers to help people and team up with other heroes, make public appearances, you know, that kind of stuff. It worked for Aesir with that Baldur guy."

Morbius stalked toward her, his teeth growing more canine like with
each step. Strange did not move a muscle, for she was prepared for his
outburst. Something had changed when Morbius had absorbed that man's
chi. Dark realization had loomed over his troubled past. He stood
before her, blinking as sweat poured down his troubled face. Oddly
enough Strange felt the urge to end his suffering. . .to let him take
some of the energy that she had taught him about.

"You don't always have to fight to live," Strange whispered to him.

"Your sympathy disgusts me," he spat.

"Fine," she said bitterly as she pushed him aside. "You keep dwelling
on the negative side of this until it consumes you, but I won't let you
take all the people that love you down too."

Strange walked over toward Le'Osha and held out her hand. Le'Osha
looked at her with eyes that had seen far too much in a short span of
time. The rings around them conveyed the change that had driven her and Morbius apart. She slowly shook her head, declaring that she would not leave with the Sorceress Supreme. Change doesn't stop at one certain point, she thought. Morbius had changed once, and most likely, he would again. . .and maybe it wouldn't always be like this.

"Well, then do me a favor," Strange said with a weak smile. "Whenever
you need my help, you let me know," she said as her hand glowed with a
deep green glow. She opened her hand revealing a small, square piece of paper. She handed it to Le'Osha.

Le'Osha looked at it for a moment. It was blank, and this confused
her. "Is this some sort of summon spell, or magical artifact," she
asked with intense curiosity.

"Not exactly," Strange sighed. "Turn it over. . .it's got my
holo-phone number on it."

Le'Osha did so, and saw that it resembled a business card. She nodded
with amazement as Strange turned to leave. As she made her way toward
the door she stopped and looked at Morbius one last time. He began to
grow angry as he expected another speech about power and responsibility. "While you never cease preaching that rubbish," he
growled.

"Actually, I was going to ask if you could see me out," Strange
replied.

She was caught off guard as Morbius lashed out, grabbing her arm hard.
He pulled her toward the door, and continued to do so as they made their way down the hall. Once they reached the front of the church, the main service hall, Morbius led her to the door, pushing them open with one mighty sweep of his arm.

"It's a good thing they didn't use you in some kind of social service
project. I bet you would have made one shocking fab waiter," Strange
cracked.

Morbius stared at her, waiting for her to leave.

"Look, I'm just kidding around with you, Morb. I can help yo--"

"How many times do I have to tell you that I don't want your useless
help? You keep acting like this is going to turn into some team-up, or
something. I don't want your help, I don't want to be your friend, and
more importantly, I don't want to ever see you again," he hissed.

"Ten-four, paleface. Those doctors should have taught you some
manners. At least, Count Dracula knew how to charm a lady," she
chuckled as the she faded out of visibility. Morbius stood alone as one of her spells carried her far away from the church and the troubled
man-child it housed. The silence that stood over Downtown was eerie,
and it began to calm Morbius some what, despite his need to transform
and hunt. He stood there with his muscles bulging as they were slowly
growing more powerful. His senses began to heighten as he stood there.
He could see through the still night. He could taste the acidic
humidity on his rough tongue, and he could smell the strong odors of
Downtown as if they were directed at him. He could hear the arguments
between a couple across the lane, and he could feel the hairs on his
arms and the back of his neck stand up.

His long, black hair began to shift in the night wind. It flew in his
face, fluttering around as a flag in windy currents. However, Morbius
quickly noticed something. Not only was the wind not blowing, he heard
the sound of flapping. . .like that of wings. His enhanced hearing
managed to pinpoint the exact location of the flapping wings, and he
could feel the air that was disturbed around him. He looked up just in
time to see a hairless man with red eyes flying at him. He ducked, and
his visitor landed, turning with an expression of pure fright.

"Morbius," he began.

By this time the sight of the fanged creature grasped the young,
pseudo-vampire, and the shock had worn off. It was the Angel of Death
standing before him. He stood there shaking all over as if in
amazement. He actually had his most hated enemy standing before him,
and they were getting ready to talk things over?

"Listen, um, I --," the Angel's declaration began to fade as he was
interrupted by a low bestial growl. He looked at Morbius with a puzzled expression. The growl came from deep within Morbius's throat. Then, it happened. Before the Angel of Death could react, Morbius was upon him. He leapt into the air toward his foe, changing in the air. As he landed, his superior strength caught the Angel in the face, knocking him back toward the wall. Then, as if in slow motion, Morbius lashed out at him, his claws extending just as they slid across the chest of the Angel, tearing into his rough exterior. It didn't penetrate, but the Angel of Death wouldn't be able to receive many blows like that before Morbius dug his way to his heart.

Morbius launched himself toward the Angel's throat, but he managed to
fend him off. As Morbius crashed into him, he used one of his massive
wings to smash Morbius into the side of the building. Morbius's back
hit the cold, hard bricks, and he slid to the ground as if dead. The
Angel loomed over him, his shadow covering the fallen Morbius. He
kneeled down beside young Morbius and placed his arm under his head.
His foe's head rolled back in his arms, exposing his tender neck. The
Angel of Death's mouth began to water as he looked upon the feast that
could be his. . .the major score as he would have said in his dealing
days.

The engrossed Angel paid little attention to the dark blue black hair
that began to come forth from Morbius's arms, chest, and the rest of his body. It wasn't a thick coat, but it was one of the side-effects to his condition, and it was one in which he didn't share with his fellow pseudo-vampire, the Angel of Death. Finally, Morbius's eyes fluttered briefly before he opened his mouth, exposing extremely sharp fangs. Before the Angel could react Morbius quickly turned his head, and sank his fangs into the arm of his enemy. The Angel howled out in pain, and stumbled backward, dropping Morbius to the ground. As he stumbled back, Morbius practically floated to his feet in one swift motion, and began slowly stalking after his would be attacker. His teeth were clinched, and the moon reflected off of his devilish fangs. His face was contorted into an expression of pure rage and animalistic instincts. The Angel had never seen him so ruthless.

"Yes," he whispered as he finally let go of his arm, letting the blood
trickle down his limb. "I knew that it would happen. You've taken the
next step, you've realized your full potential. You have drawn the
blood of another and taken his life, haven't you? Come to me, my
brother!"

"No," Morbius bellowed. "I may have crossed that line once, but I will
never be like you. I will never take the soul of another living
creature as long as I live, and I intend to see that you follow my lead. . .whether you like it or not!"

"Souls? What the shock are you talking about? Don't be so dramatic. . .
it's the life you take, the life you absorb. Can't you feel the power
of your victim running through your veins, waiting to be replenished by
the life of another? I'm addicted, but I don't need it to survive.
It's the pleasure I get from the energy. . .the high."

"What? You have no idea what you've been doing. You have killed
countless people, absorbing their souls, for your own twisted
pleasure!? I went too far. . .but, I didn't enjoy it. It was something I had to do. . .for survival," Morbius said with a grave tone.

"Survival!? I don't know what you're talking about, Morbius. I weeks
after my accident without feeding. . .I don't need it to survive. It's
the thrill of the hunt that counts."

"You mean to tell me that you don't even NEED the souls you absorb to
survive!? You have even less reason that I initially thought. . .you do it for no other reason than to satisfy your bizarre vision of
pleasure!?"

"Well, yeah, I guess you could put it that way. This is a habit that I
could kick, punk, a habit that I could kick if I WANTED to. But, that's not why I've co--"

The Angel of Death never got a chance to finish his sentence, for
Morbius was on him in an instant. His claws shredded at the skin of the Angel, bringing blood to the surface of his hairless body. He continued to lash out at the Angel, who finally dodged the onslaught, and caught Morbius with a hard left uppercut. Morbius fell back a few steps, and was delivered a swift, but hard, headbutt to the face. Blood escaped from his nose, slowly making it's way to his chin. He looked at it with a grim expression.

"Why fight, brother," the Angel asked. "We are equals, it is a waste."

"We may be equals," Morbius slowly replied, "but, I've taken down many
a foe who was more powerful than you or me!"

Morbius was still trying to hold back his transformation. Once his
condition manifests itself in all of the side-effects that are the
source of his powers, he'll have to feed. The longer he could hold off, the better. He was having a difficult time handling the Angel of Death, but he thought he could defeat him without transforming. He lunged forward at the Angel, shoving him back into a wall. The Angel elbowed Morbius in the back, causing him to fall backward. Morbius turned his back to the Angel, holding it in pain.

The Angel quickly attacked his hurt foe, wrapping his arms around his
neck, and jumping onto his back. He began to choke Morbius, who was
gasping for air that wasn't to be found. The Angel began to tighten his grip, and Morbius began to grow weak. Finally, in desperation, as he staggered around with the Angel of Death on his back, Morbius stopped fighting his metamorphosis. As he did so, the remaining changes took place in an instant. His strength increased tenfold, and his senses were grew even more acute. He could feel the Angel's heart pounding. . . he was afraid of something. His wings sprang forth from his back, knocking the Angel off of his back, and sending him crashing to the floor. Morbius turned to the Angel, now in complete vampiric mode. The Angel looked at him, and his red eyes grew wider. He began to crawl backward as he panicked. It took a moment for Morbius to realize that it wasn't himself that the Angel of Death feared. . .it was something behind him.

Morbius turned to see a thick fog condensing before him. His senses
could not make out what it was, and his mind screamed a warning of
something supernatural. That had to be in, he thought. His heart began to pound hard within his chest as the unidentified fog quickly formed a tangible, unidentified man. His hair was long and black. He wore black clothes, and a dark midnight cape. His skin was more of a reddish tone, and he stared at Morbius, and grinned. His fangs were even more dangerous looking than either of the two bathed in his shadow.

"How fortunate," he snarled. "Not only did you manage to beat down my
prey, but he also led me to you. . .the only other imposter in the
city. Lucky day, indeed."

"Who---who are you," whispered Morbius.

"I tried to warn you, brother. Like most hero types, you wanna let
your fists to the talking for ya --- and now, we're both dead," the
Angel said angrily.

"What," Morbius asked, as he turned to the fallen Angel of Death.

"Listen to the man. Remember what he just said," chuckled the dark
man. "Because it's his last words."

Then, before Morbius could react, the dark stranger pushed by Morbius,
knocking him to the ground. The Angel raised his wing in defense, but
his attacker merely grabbed hold of the appendage, forcing it out of the way. Morbius looked on in horror as his most hated enemy was at the hands of some unknown attacker. The man in black backhanded the Angel, forcing his consciousness out of him. His slumbering body laid still in his hands, as he slowly stooped over him, pushing his head to the side, leaving his neck exposed. Morbius's mouth dropped open as he watched the hunter gently puncture his prey's neck, feeding from his crimson fluids. He dropped the Angel, and looked up to Morbius with a smile. He licked his lips, but the stain of blood remained on his chin, like a child rejoicing in his dinner.

"You -- you killed him," Morbius said in amazement. "The Angel
actually came to me for help, and you killed him as if it were nothing."

"What's your point? You couldn't be disappointed that I choose him
first?"

"Who the shock are you," gulped Morbius.

"Dracula. And I will suffer no imposters to my legend."

***********************************************************************
Next Month: Gary returns after my guest writing chores!!! Write and let him know how you think I did. I've really enjoyed working with two of my favorite 2099 UG characters. Thanks a lot, guys. I hope you've enjoyed my work. Be sure to check out more of my writing in Thor 2099 & Salem! Don't get mad for the shameless plug, Gary! Heh. Oh yeah...read Tensen...as if I had to tell you! There, Gary....now, we're even. Next month, "Mark of the Vampire, Pt. 2!!!!!"
***********************************************************************