Chapter 18: The Subway Massacre (Part 1)
Lucius
Déli Terminal smelled of humanity and approaching violence.
I crouched on the maintenance catwalk above Platform 3, hidden in shadows that vampire eyes couldn't penetrate and human security cameras couldn't reach. Below, the 11:34 train was arriving. Passengers streamed through turnstiles, heading home after late shifts and evening entertainment.
Michael Corvin emerged from the third car.
[ MICHAEL CORVIN - HUMAN - 8 BP ]
[ CORVINUS SIGNATURE: DORMANT BUT PRIMED ]
He looked exhausted—eighteen hours of trauma surgery visible in the slump of his shoulders, the dark circles under his eyes. Just another overworked surgeon heading home. He had no idea that tonight would end his human existence.
Blood Appraisal swept the platform, cataloging signatures.
Four Lycans had positioned themselves at strategic points: two near the exits, one on the opposite platform, one moving to intercept Michael's path. Their signatures glowed in my enhanced vision—[ 68 BP ], [ 54 BP ], [ 71 BP ], [ 62 BP ]. Professional operatives, experienced hunters, working a practiced formation.
And on the rooftop across the terminal, hidden from everyone except my Enhanced Senses, another signature waited.
[ SELENE - 178 BP ]
[ STATUS: OBSERVING. ARMED. UNAWARE OF HOST PRESENCE. ]
She watched through a sniper scope, tracking the same Lycans I'd identified. Her heartbeat was steady—the calm of a veteran warrior who'd killed more enemies than she could count. She was waiting for the Lycans to make their move.
So was I.
The lead Lycan—the one at [ 68 BP ]—began closing on Michael. The surgeon noticed the tail too late, quickening his pace toward the exit stairs. But the exit was blocked. Two Lycans converging from that direction.
Michael ran.
The chase erupted through the terminal—screaming passengers, scattering crowds, the thunder of pursuit echoing off tile walls. Michael ducked into a maintenance corridor, following signs toward secondary exits. The Lycans split to flank him.
I moved along the catwalk, tracking the pursuit from above. Below me, Michael scrambled through service passages meant for utility workers, not fleeing prey. The Lycans were herding him—pushing him toward a specific destination.
A dead end.
Michael burst into a storage area and skidded to a halt. No exit. No windows. Just concrete walls and the approaching sound of clawed feet.
The lead Lycan appeared in the doorway, already mid-transformation. His human form rippled, bones cracking, muscles expanding. Clothes shredded as fur sprouted and fangs elongated.
"Don't run," the creature growled through reshaping jaws. "Lucian wants you alive. This only hurts if you fight."
Michael grabbed a maintenance tool from a shelf—a heavy wrench, probably useless against supernatural strength but the instinct was admirable. He swung at the approaching Lycan.
The blow connected with the creature's skull. The Lycan stumbled, more surprised than hurt.
Then he bit.
Fangs sank into Michael's shoulder, deep enough to reach bone. The surgeon screamed—a sound I recognized from operating rooms, the involuntary cry of someone experiencing trauma beyond their body's capacity to process.
[ MICHAEL CORVIN - STATUS CHANGE ]
[ SPECIES: HUMAN (INFECTED) ]
[ CORVINUS SIGNATURE: ACTIVATING ]
[ ESTIMATED BP VALUE: 12 (INCREASING) ]
The Lycan released him, licking blood from its muzzle. Michael collapsed against the wall, clutching his shoulder, veins already darkening as the infection spread.
Gunfire erupted from the corridor behind.
Selene had arrived.
Silver rounds tore through the lead Lycan before he could react—three to the chest, two to the skull. He dropped, transformation reversing as death claimed him.
[ LYCAN TERMINATED - 68 BP ]
The other three Lycans responded instantly, abandoning Michael to engage the new threat. Claws met silver bullets in the narrow corridor. Selene moved like water—no wasted motion, no hesitation, six hundred years of combat experience directing every shot.
Two more Lycans fell in seconds.
[ LYCAN TERMINATED - 54 BP ]
[ LYCAN TERMINATED - 71 BP ]
The fourth—the [ 62 BP ] operative—broke and ran. Smart choice. He'd report to Lucian, provide intelligence, live to fight another day.
I let him go. His survival didn't matter to my plans.
What mattered was Michael.
The surgeon lay in the storage room, bleeding, confused, beginning the transformation that would make him the most valuable creature in Budapest. Selene knelt beside him, checking vitals, assessing damage with professional efficiency.
"Human bitten by Lycan," she said into a communicator. "He's transforming. What are my orders?"
I couldn't hear Kraven's response, but Selene's expression suggested displeasure. She argued briefly, then disconnected.
New signatures approached. Blood Appraisal identified them before they came into view.
[ RIGEL - 92 BP ]
[ NATHANIEL - 52 BP ]
Death Dealer backup, responding to reports of supernatural combat in a public space. They arrived with weapons drawn, scanning for threats.
"Selene." Rigel lowered his pistol. "Situation?"
"Lycan ambush. They were targeting this human specifically. He's infected now."
"Kill him," Nathaniel suggested. His tone was casual, the recommendation of someone who'd executed infected humans a thousand times. "One less variable."
"Kraven wants him alive. For questioning."
Nathaniel shrugged—not his call, not his problem. He began securing the perimeter while Rigel helped Selene lift the unconscious Michael.
"Safe house on Vaci Street," Selene said. "Kraven's orders. We move now, before more Lycans arrive."
I followed from the catwalks as they carried Michael through service corridors to a waiting van. Selene mounted a motorcycle, following the van as it departed.
[ OPTIMAL INTERVENTION WINDOW: 18-26 MINUTES ]
The safe house was a converted warehouse—isolated, minimal external security, exactly the kind of location Kraven would choose for discreet interrogation. Two guards at the entrance, both registering around [ 45 BP ]. Inside, the van would deliver Michael to whatever fate Kraven had planned.
I dropped from the catwalk and commandeered a motorcycle from the terminal parking lot. Vampire strength made the ignition unnecessary—I simply twisted the starter until it broke, then hot-wired the connection.
The chase through Budapest was a study in shadows.
The van took surface streets, avoiding the main thoroughfares where cameras and witnesses would complicate things. Selene paralleled its route on her motorcycle, watching for Lycan pursuit. Rigel and Nathaniel rode inside, guarding their prize.
And I followed them all, maintaining enough distance that Enhanced Senses could track without Enhanced Senses being detected.
[ SELENE - 178 BP - POSITION: FLANKING ]
[ VAN - MOVING - DESTINATION: VACI STREET ]
[ HOST - PURSUIT - ETA TO INTERCEPT: 14 MINUTES ]
The safe house approached. Two guards confirmed, now joined by a third who'd emerged to receive the delivery. Michael was carried inside, still unconscious, transformation progressing visibly—his skin was paler now, veins visible beneath the surface, body fighting and losing against the infection.
Selene parked her motorcycle and entered the building. Rigel and Nathaniel remained on exterior guard.
[ INTERVENTION OPTIONS: ]
[ A) FRONTAL ASSAULT - HIGH RISK, IMMEDIATE ENGAGEMENT ]
[ B) INFILTRATION - MODERATE RISK, REQUIRES STEALTH ]
[ C) WAIT FOR OPPORTUNITY - LOW RISK, OUTCOME UNCERTAIN ]
I circled the building, mapping entry points. Rear entrance, minimally guarded. Second-floor windows, accessible via fire escape. Rooftop access through ventilation shafts.
Option B. Infiltration.
The fire escape groaned under my weight but held. Second-floor window was locked—vampire strength made that irrelevant. I slipped inside, retracting Lycan claws to minimize the hybrid scent that might alert supernatural noses.
The interior was industrial—exposed pipes, concrete floors, flickering fluorescent lights. Voices echoed from the ground floor: Selene reporting to someone via communicator, guards discussing shift rotations, and underneath it all, the sound of Michael's labored breathing.
I moved toward the sound.
The room where they'd placed Michael was a converted office—glass walls that had once overlooked a factory floor, now fitted with medical equipment and restraints. He lay strapped to a gurney, IV dripping something clear into his arm. Probably sedatives, keeping him unconscious while the transformation progressed.
Selene stood over him, expression unreadable.
"His fever is spiking," she said to someone I couldn't see. "The transformation is accelerating. If we don't get him to Ördögház soon—"
"Kraven wants answers first." The voice was familiar—one of the guards from outside, probably relaying orders. "Why were the Lycans targeting this specific human? What makes him valuable?"
"I don't know. But I intend to find out."
She leaned closer to Michael, studying his face. Something in her expression shifted—curiosity, maybe, or recognition of a puzzle she couldn't solve.
I watched from the shadows, calculating.
Three guards on ground floor. Selene in the room with Michael. Rigel and Nathaniel outside. Too many variables for a clean extraction.
But the night was young, and opportunities were forming.
Selene's communicator crackled. "Kraven is en route. ETA: twenty minutes. Keep the human stable until he arrives."
Twenty minutes. That was my window.
I retreated to the second floor, finding a position with sightlines to both the room where Michael lay and the building's entrance. When Kraven arrived, attention would shift. Guards would refocus on their Regent rather than their prisoner.
And in that moment of distraction, I'd make my move.
[ COUNTDOWN INITIATED: 19:47 ]
The timer appeared in my peripheral vision, ticking down with mechanical precision. Nineteen minutes until Kraven arrived. Nineteen minutes until chaos became opportunity.
I checked my weapons. Loaded fresh magazines. Extended Lycan claws, then retracted them—ready for use but hidden from detection.
The game was reaching its critical phase. Michael Corvin, the key to hybrid evolution, lay unconscious in a room below. Selene watched over him, unaware that her prey was about to become my prey. And Kraven was approaching, believing himself in control of a situation that was about to slip through his fingers.
I smiled in the darkness.
Eighteen minutes and counting.
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