Intruder in the Night

[The Justice League Headquarters]

The command centre of the Justice League was a marvel of modern technology, a testament to human ingenuity and extraterrestrial collaboration. Walls of reinforced metal and glass surrounded the heroes, framing the infinite canvas of space that stretched beyond. The room hummed with the soft whir of advanced machinery, each piece working in harmony.

At the heart of the room, a U-shaped table served as the focal point, around which the assembly of heroes gathered. Each chair was occupied by a figure renowned in their own right, guardians of peace and justice.

The Atom, his suit shrinking to its normal size as he took his seat, was the first to break the silence that had fallen after the presentation. "That was insane," he remarked, his voice echoing a mix of disbelief and admiration. His gaze remained fixed on the now-dimming holographic display that hovered above the table.

Hawkgirl, her wings folding neatly behind her, leaned forward with interest. "A warrior spirit, indeed. Asher Eclipse would be quite the sparring partner." Her tone carried the thrill of a warrior recognising a worthy adversary.

Wonder Woman, her eyes thoughtful and assessing, added her perspective. "His strength and agility are indeed remarkable. There's a raw potential in him, a power yet to be fully realised." Her words, spoken with the wisdom of an experienced warrior, resonated around the table.

Superman, embodying the calm leadership he was known for, surveyed the room. "Is it agreed, then, that he is fit to join Young Justice?" His voice, though soft, carried the weight of authority.

A chorus of agreement filled the room. From Martian Manhunter's stoic nod to Green Lantern's confident affirmation, it was clear the decision was unanimous.

Superman's eyes shifted towards Batman, the final arbiter in this decision. The Dark Knight sat with his characteristic brooding intensity, a shadow amidst the light. "Batman?" Superman prompted.

A soft grunt, barely audible, escaped Batman's lips as he gave a slight nod. It was a gesture that spoke volumes—a silent endorsement of Asher's capabilities.

"Good, then the meeting is adjourned," Superman declared, signalling the end of their deliberation.

As the holographic images faded and the members of the Justice League rose from their seats, a sense of purpose filled the air. The decision to welcome Asher Eclipse into the ranks of Young Justice marked a new chapter, not only for Asher but for the League and the young heroes he would soon join.

[Asher's POV]

Ever since I awoke in this world, I have been busy ever since, the streets of Gotham were ever so bleak and dirty, the smell unforgiven; it's like rotten sewage. Locking my senses was the only way to alleviate the pain that comes from breathing. The city, with its oppressive shadows and relentless pulse, has pushed the limits of my vampiric senses.

{Flashback}

The third day here, the hotel I've been staying in has been very meticulous, I plan to stock some blood here, I had recently bought a portable freezer using some money that came from my previous meals - Flashback in a Flashback

On my third day in this new, shadow-draped world, the hotel room had become more than a refuge; it was a base for my nocturnal existence. The staff, ever professional and unobtrusive, maintained a respectful distance, providing the solitude I craved. In this muted sanctuary, I contemplated the necessities of my vampiric life, acknowledging the practicalities that accompanied my newfound nature.

That evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, cloaking Gotham in a twilight embrace, I set out with calculated intent. The city streets, now just darkened arteries in the heart of the night, were nearly deserted. The only witnesses to my passage were the stray cats, their eyes glinting in the shadows as they tracked my silent movements.

My destination was a discreet establishment nestled on the fringes of Gotham's less reputable district. Known for catering to an eclectic clientele, the shop was a trove of the unusual and the arcane. As I entered, the bell above the door tinkled, announcing my presence to the shopkeeper, a man whose weathered face had seen the myriad secrets of this city.

Our transaction was a dance of understated efficiency. I presented the cash—the earnings from encounters that still lingered in my mind—with a mix of revulsion and necessity. In exchange, I received a portable freezer that was compact yet sufficient for my needs. The shopkeeper, accustomed to the oddities that frequented his store, offered no comment. His gaze, however, held a flicker of curiosity, quickly masked by a practiced indifference.

As I exited the shop, the freezer securely in hand, the night air felt different against my skin—colder yet somehow more alive. Each step back to the hotel was a silent affirmation of my new reality. The sounds of the city, from the distant wail of sirens to the subtle rustling of nocturnal creatures, were now components of a world I was learning to navigate.

As I returned to the hotel, scaling the walls with an ease that still surprised me, the memory of an earlier incident that made me acutely aware of this newfound ability came flooding back to my mind.

[Flashback to the Incident]

It was my second night of embracing this vampiric existence when the realisation of my ability to traverse any surface struck me. I was pursuing a would-be mugger—a lowlife preying on a helpless old man in one of Gotham's darker alleys. The chase led me to a sheer wall, a dead end for most, but not for me.

In the heat of the moment, with adrenaline coursing through my veins, I didn't stop to consider the impossibility of what I was about to do. My target had scaled a fire escape, clambering desperately to reach the rooftop. Instinctively, I followed, but not via the metal stairs. Instead, I found myself running vertically up the brick wall, each step as natural as walking on solid ground.

The sensation was exhilarating. The rough texture of the bricks under my fingertips and the pull of gravity defied with each step I took upward. It was as if the laws of physics, which bound the mortal world, had decided to exempt me from their grip.

Reaching the rooftop, I caught up to the mugger in mere moments. The look of utter disbelief on his face when he saw me effortlessly emerge from the edge was almost comical. For him, it was a ghost story come to life; for me, it was a revelation of my capabilities.

The encounter ended swiftly: I incapacitated him, ensuring he would no longer be a threat, but leaving him to face the justice of the law. As I stood there, looking over the edge of the rooftop at the city sprawling beneath me, a sense of liberation washed over me. The vertical planes of the world were now as accessible to me as the horizontal.

[End of Flashback]

Back in the solitude of my hotel room, the memory of that ascent lingered. The walls of the city, once mere structural elements, had become pathways that offered new perspectives and opportunities.

Sitting alone in the dim light of my hotel room, my thoughts inevitably turned to the more enigmatic aspects of my existence. Among these, the nature of my sustenance was a topic that both fascinated and perplexed me.

The essence of life, human blood, had become my primary need, an elixir that sustained me in ways I was still trying to comprehend. Before this life, the notion of consuming blood might have been repugnant, but now it is a source of vitality, an incomparable pleasure that transcends mere sustenance.

Each experience of feeding was unique. I discovered that human blood was not a singular taste but a spectrum of flavours and textures, as varied as the individuals from whom it came. Some were rich and robust, a testament to their owner's vitality, while others were subtle, almost delicate in their composition. The diversity was astonishing, revealing nuances I had never anticipated.

As I mused over this, a part of me was still astounded at how readily I had adapted to this aspect of my new reality. The act of feeding, once a mere necessity for survival, had evolved into an experience that engaged all my senses, providing not just nourishment but a deeper connection to the essence of life itself.

But with this revelation came a profound realisation of my departure from what was once considered normal. Each drop of blood, while sustaining me, also underscored the divergence of my path from the human experience. It was a duality I was learning to embrace—the necessity of this new diet against the backdrop of a life that was increasingly alien from human norms.

In these moments of reflection, I often found myself lost in thought, pondering the complexities of my existence. The blood was a reminder of what I had become, a bridge between the life I once knew and the enigmatic path I now walked

Look at me rambling on about blood and life.

Retreating to the seclusion of my room, I welcomed the solitude that the enveloping darkness provided. Here, in this quiet space, I could contemplate the profound changes that had overtaken my existence. The bed, undisturbed and pristine, stood as a silent testament to the new reality I now inhabited. The very concept of sleep, once a necessity, had become an alien notion to me. In this world that was still an enigma, filled with mysteries and uncharted paths, succumbing to a prolonged slumber was a luxury I could ill afford.

The windows, with their curtains drawn tightly, formed a barrier against the outside world – particularly the sunlight. Though I had not yet tested the effects of the sun's rays against my skin, an instinctual caution held me back. There was much about my new nature that remained unknown, and I was not eager to court disaster out of mere curiosity.

Blood, the vital essence that sustained me, had become more than mere sustenance. It rejuvenated me, imbuing me with a vitality and stamina that seemed limitless. Over the past two days, I have ventured out into the night, driven by a hunger that is both new and compelling. This quest for blood had been relentless, a primal urge that I had indulged fully in. Yet, with each foray into the night and with each life essence that I consumed, I felt a growing sense of control and a clarity of mind that allowed me to reflect on my actions and their implications.

In the stillness of my room, I considered this newfound discipline. The initial frenzy that had accompanied my awakening to this state had given way to a measured approach. I had begun to understand the balance required to navigate this existence—to feed without losing oneself to the baser instincts that this new life could easily awaken.

Flashback in a Flashback end

I plan on taking some blood bag's from any near by hospital.

With a plan etched in my mind, I made my way to the window of my dimly lit room and launched myself into the night. My descent was smooth—a controlled fall that ended with a soft landing in the alley below, reminiscent of a cat's graceful poise.

The alley, a narrow corridor between towering buildings, was steeped in the city's less savoury aspects. Grime dripped from the walls like rain in a forgotten forest, and the air was heavy with the odour of refuse. The stench was overwhelming—a noxious cloud that seemed to claw at my senses. I felt a wave of dizziness wash over me, a physical reaction to the assault of smells that enveloped me.

Feeling like I wouldn't be able to make progress with my senses like this, this overwhelming sensory experience was becoming a familiar adversary. My heightened senses, while a gift in many respects, also left me vulnerable to the onslaught of the city's less pleasant aspects.

In an attempt to alleviate the discomfort, I instinctively held my breath. It was then, amidst the suffocating stench of the alley, that an epiphany struck me. vampires don't need to breath since they are undead. It was then, in that moment of weakness, that I realised that breathing, a fundamental necessity for the living, was not a requirement for me. This moment of clarity was profound, illuminating a path to control the sensory overload that plagued me.

I experienced sensory overload every time, but thanks to my fast regeneration, it's like it never happened; it has been a constant for the past two days. The only plus side is that I adapt quicker, but experiencing a regular sensory overload can cause a halt in the amount of information I can process.

I had been holding my breath; I didn't need to breathe like a human; my undead physiology was different, liberated from such necessities. This discovery was like a key turning in a lock, opening up new possibilities.

Anyway, after learning that holding my breath causes no discomfort, I decided to do it all the time. At this point, it's not holding my breath; I ceased to breathe, not out of necessity but out of choice. This simple act brought an immediate respite from the overpowering smells. It was a revelation that opened a door to a new way of existing in this world.

Although I think I am also a living creature due to my heartbeat, my species is not like other living creatures, and any new discoveries just add to that fact. Just like now, my thoughts all happened in a span of a few seconds.

It was liberating. The constant barrage of odours was muted, and the sensory overload eased. Yet, with my newfound control, I found I could tune into specific elements of my environment. The distant murmur of conversations, the subtle rustling of the wind, the faint rhythm of heartbeats in the vicinity—all these became discernible, painting a vivid auditory picture of the world around me.

That same night, determined to be self-sufficient, I ventured out with a purpose. Jumping gracefully from rooftop to rooftop, I headed towards my target—a nearby hospital. I needed a sustainable source of blood, something more discreet than hunting the city's underbelly.

The hospital, a beacon of light and life in the heart of Gotham's darkness, became my unlikely destination that night. Under the cover of shadows, I slipped through its doors, unnoticed, a phantom in the bustling world of healing and hope. The fluorescent lights above hummed a monotonous lullaby, casting their clinical glow on the polished floors that reflected a world I was no longer part of.

I navigated the corridors with a ghostly grace, an intruder hidden in plain sight. The signs guided me, leading me to a room marked 'Medical Storage.' Here, behind secured doors, lay my objective. My actions were precise and3 calculated—the result of a heightened awareness that had become my constant companion.

The storage room was a cold, impersonal space lined with refrigerated units. Within them, rows of blood bags hung like macabre fruit, each labelled and categorised with clinical detachment. I selected them with care, each bag a life preserved, a sustenance for my own continued existence. As I placed them into the portable freezer—an acquisition funded by the less honorable deeds of my nocturnal ventures—I felt a twinge of something akin to guilt, quickly smothered by the necessity of survival.

Each blood bag represented a different essence, a different being. Though the experience of consuming these preserved lifesavers lacked the immediate intensity of feeding directly from a source, it was still a journey of discovery. The flavours and textures varied, a testament to the diversity of life that flowed through the city's veins. This was a new kind of connoisseurship, one that walked the line between necessity and a darker fascination.

As I closed the freezer, securing my cache for the nights to come, I took a moment to reflect. This act, this preparation, was a necessary step in understanding and controlling the beast that lurked within. It was a means to an end, a way to keep the darker urges at bay while I navigated this new existence.

{Flashback End}

Back in the solitude of my hotel room, the freezer's soft hum was a steady undertone to the night's silence, a reminder of the delicate balance with which I now walked. The darkness, far from being an obstacle, was as clear as daylight to my heightened senses. Here, in this haven, I felt a temporary respite—a place to strategize and reflect, shielded from the relentless pulse of Gotham.

Yet, as I settled into the familiar embrace of shadows, something unsettled the air—a disturbance so slight it would have been imperceptible to anyone else. The darkness that to others would be oppressive was to me as transparent as glass, and it revealed that I was not alone.

In the corner of the room, a figure stood—an anomaly in the stillness, a silhouette that hadn't been there moments before. My heart, though no longer human, skipped a beat, not out of fear but out of intrigue. Who was this intruder who dared to enter the lair of a vampire, and more importantly, how had they managed to do so undetected by my senses until now?

(A/N: 50 power stones, 0/50)