2Right, just a little explanation before I get started. This fic is just an explanation of the histories of some OCs I'll be using in TT fics. Some belong to me, others belong to my friends. Oh, and to anyone from the Titans Night board who reads this, this ain't the same Nightfall that's on the boards.
Well, chappy one will cover one of my personal characters, the vampire Sarato.
Even though the Titans don't do much but cameo towards the end, I still don't own them. Oh, and I don't own Hellsing. Pity me!
Chapter the First: Fangs
There are many myths, legends, and folklores of the nature of vampires. They have a myriad of powers attributed to them, from healing to mind control to shape shifting to energy blasts. As numerous as their powers are their names. Vampire, nightstalker, Nosferatu, Midian, Draculin and Draculina. All have one thing in common: a pair of very sharp fangs…
"Scott, believe me, I've got a bad feeling about this!" A seven year old red-headed girl stood on the stoop of an old Irish house, yelling at her brother. A nine year old redhead laughed at his sister's concern.
"Don't worry, Raina! I'll be back before dinner! Nobby an' I are just headin' down to the woods!" Waving back at his sister, Scott McTierfon ran down the lane to where his friend, Colin Nobbs, awaited him.
Of course, being boys, the two didn't stay in the woods for long before they became bored. It was Nobby who came up with the idea to head over to the old city, which had become a hellhole of a battlefield for the Irish Republic's Army. As luck would have it, the two ended up on a hillside, watching the IRA being royally trumped by a small group of seemingly supernatural foes. Scott started to get nervous. "Err… Nobby? I think we should head home. This doesn't feel right…"
Nobby only laughed at his friend's discomfort. "You're not… chicken, are ya, Scott?" His comment obviously struck home, as Scott immediately lay back down to watch the battle. This was to be the worst, and some considered, the last decision he would make in his life.
Mere moments after Scott sat back down; a stray RPG rocketed out of the battle. Neither of the boys noticed it until it was too late. The final sight of Scott McTierfon before he left the realm of the living was of his best friend's body being obliterated.
A young, nine year old boy awoke on a hill, naked and burned. A strange, pale man knelt over him, garbed in a long maroon trench coat and a wide maroon fedora. He reached up and removed his sunglasses, revealing red eyes. "So, boy, you thought you'd watch a little fight between the IRA and those rogue vampires, eh? Well, seems you learned your lesson. Pity you had to pay such a price. Now, I can save you, boy, but you'll lose part of your memory, and you won't be human again. Are you willing to give up your humanity to walk this land once more?" Unable to speak, the boy simply nodded. "Good choice, boy. Now, when you awaken, you'll not remember barely anything. You'll need to feed, too. You'll just have to find a village. I'll be back for you in two years, Sarato." The newly christened Sarato passed out as the maroon garbed vampire bit into his neck.
Some time later, Sarato had slunk through much of Ireland, leaving a swath of bloodless corpses behind him. Then, as fate would have it, he came upon the site of his greatest crime and the creation of his greatest foe. He never would have attacked that tiny village if he knew anything but his hunger.
Sarato snuck into an alleyway, managing to not draw any attention to himself. He stepped carefully out the other side, heading for a coffin maker's shop. He'd been traveling from town to town, hiding out in crypts and graveyards. He had finally grown weary of this and had decided to purchase a coffin. He wasn't aware that there were wanted posters out for his death, nor that this tiny village had its own militia.
The first that the young vampire knew of the militiamen behind him was the sound of a shotgun being pumped. Spinning around, he snarled, then sprung. The fight was over before it had begun. Without proper preparation, even a young vampire is nigh unbeatable. Unfortunately, after a victory, vampires are known to enter bloodlusts of sorts. Sarato was no exception. He slaughtered everyone in the village. Everyone, save one little girl.
Sarato looked up as he heard a sound, blood dripping down his chin. A young girl, a few years younger than he, was looking at him with an expression of fear, hatred, horror, and grief. He growled at her, and her blue eyes suddenly became steeled with great power. She held out her hand, and he was gripped by an invisible hand, which slowly began to crush him. "Wha-What do you want, mortal?" The girl began to cry.
"What's your name, murderer?" He growled at her again, but the force holding him began to squeeze. "Ah! Sarato! My name is Sarato!" She nodded. "You've killed my village, and taken that which is dear to me. For that, you will suffer." Sarato was struck by this girl's determination, but shrugged it off. She suddenly seemed to disappear, and the force released him. He left that hamlet of death, never to return.
Several years later, an older, more experienced Sarato had taken to prowling around Dublin, wearing a brown cloak and the evening dress that personified vampires. Numerous hunters had come after him, and he had killed all of them. So it came as some surprise when he found himself being followed by a strange, maroon-garbed man. Shrugging it off as another hunter, Sarato led him into one of his killing grounds. He was surprised, to say the least, when he came face to face with his stalker.
"M-Master?" An overwhelming feeling of servitude came over Sarato, and he found himself kneeling in reverence to this apparent stranger. The elder vampire grinned. "Ah, my old friend, it is time we got properly acquainted. You are Sarato, and I am Alucard. The time has come for you to return to me, and serve under me for a time. You are coming with me back to England, to join Hellsing, the renowned secret organization."
Sarato only nodded. "Ah, but first, I feel that we should give you a nickname of sorts. Sarato is such a mouthful. Hmm… Saro would do nicely…" Reaching out, Alucard gripped Saro's wrist and pulled him into a swirling vortex of mists.
Many miles away, at about the same time, events conspired to change Saro's life, or lack thereof. The young girl that Saro had encountered years before had finally tracked down the source of the scourge. She had grown into a young Paladin, know as Ella Anderson, "The Vengeful". Having learned of Saro's source, the young Scott McTierfon, Anderson set out to destroy what the vampire invariably held dear: his family.
It was a quiet night when death visited the McTierfon household. The father, Douglas, had taken to drinking after his eldest son's death, and Margaret McTierfon had lost all joy in life. Their remaining children, the twins Raina and Jennifer, as well as the young boy James, had all reacted differently. Raina had become withdrawn, Jennifer had taken to joking loudly, and young Jimmy had developed something of a split personality. The entire family was taken unawares when their fate came.
Ella came to their door on a cloudy night, clad in a heavy black cloak and a suit of armor. She had a blessed broadsword slung at her hip. When an inebriated Douglas answered the door, she quickly slit his throat. Jennifer died next, having a throwing knife lobbed through her heart. Raina was stabbed straight between the ribs, and Margaret was killed trying to protect James. The young boy was killed in the most humane way possible, as even the vengeful paladin had some mercy. Using holy powers, she simply stopped his heart, painlessly. Ella left the house as quietly as she came, not bothering to check her prey for a pulse, a mistake she would regret years later.
Saro had already begun training at Hellsing when word came of the slaughter of the McTierfon family. Saro immediately became withdrawn, and carried his only inheritance, his father's elegant rapier, everywhere he went. The vampire poured himself into his training, rising through the ranks quickly. Going on missions with Alucard, he proved himself time and again. His only fault was a reluctance to take a break. Even Alucard took time off now and again. Saro never knew when to quit, so Alucard and the director of Hellsing, Lady Integral Hellsing, ordered him to take a vacation. He reluctantly agreed.
Saro decided to head off to Germany for a two week furlough. Wandering the streets one day, he made an acquaintance that would reshape the rest of his non-life. In that small, relatively unknown village, he befriended a man a few years older than him, named Letius. Despite the ominous implications of his name, Saro found Letius friendly and trustworthy, not at all like his namesake. Saro returned to Hellsing two weeks later, feeling quite refreshed.
It came as no small surprise when Saro discovered that his new 'friend' was in fact a wanted alchemist and necromancer. Even more shocking, the alchemist was building an undead army in Germany, preparing to destroy Europe. As he was the most familiar with the target and the countryside, Saro was sent to take Letius down. The young vampire had no trouble dealing with the basic zombies and lesser vampires, even managing to defeat a group of familiars and elementals. It was when he came face to face with Letius that he almost met his match.
The two engaged in a fierce duel, neither saying a word. Rapier and wakizashi flashed in the light of the rising sun. Both warriors were wounded, but Saro eventually gained the upper hand. As he stood over a kneeling Letius, he heard the necromancer murmuring under his breath. The vampire stabbed his rapier into the alchemist's heart; the alchemist cast a spell directly at the vampire. Saro was knocked back, and Letius fell dead.
Gasping for breath, Saro could only watch as a blue spirit rose from Letius. "So, foolish vampire, you've found my secret! I am one of the eternals. I've unlocked the secrets to immortality! You'll see me again, mark my words!" The spirit dissipated, and Saro struggled to his feet, returning to a nearby Hellsing outpost.
The young vampire slammed his fist against the wall. He had been cursed. He would remain in the body of a seventeen year old for many years; the vampiric ability to hibernate was also locked away from him. Furious, he once more turned to his work, pouring all his being into his missions. A good nineteen years passed before he finally accepted another vacation.
Tired of Europe, Saro decided to take a trip to America, more specifically Jump City, California. He traveled light, and always wore a black cloak over his form. He arrived in Jump on a chilly, windy night. The vampire wandered the streets for some time, admiring the differences in architecture from that of Europe. It was then that the sounds of battle reached his ears.
Turning a corner, Saro caught sight of an alleyway lit up by blasts of blue, green, yellow, and white light. Suddenly, a beam of yellow cut through the night, propelling a green gorilla out into the street. Before the ape hit the ground, it shifted form into that of a young green teen, who ran back into the alley. Approaching cautiously, Saro loosened his rapier under the cloak. The sight that met his eyes astounded him.
A group of costumed teens, a few years younger than he appeared, were fighting an older man in a strange suit. As he watched, a spiky haired, masked teen spun a bo staff, sending the man flying into a wall.
Doctor Light grimaced. Once more, the Titans were pummeling him. He looked up and spotted a cloaked figure at the edge of their battlefield. He smirked, raising his hand and firing a blast from his beam cannon.
Saro looked up in time to spot the blast of energy heading straight towards him. He frowned, preparing to try and ward off the attack. It was then that one of the teens, a girl clad in a deep blue cloak, appeared from a vortex in front of Saro, taking the hit for him. She cried out in pain, slowly falling to earth. She never reached it, falling instead into the waiting arms of a thankful vampire. He looked down at her face; she was unconscious, but beautiful. He shook off the feelings of human affection and turned back to Light. He was nowhere to be seen.
Robin was mad and frightened. He was angry at the loss of Light and the battle; scared for Raven's health and about the strange cloaked figure that had caught her. Neither he nor his teammates noticed Saro's return until an unconscious Dr. Light landed at their feet. "I assume this repays my debt." He turned to leave. Robin didn't let him.
"Wait!" When the cloaked vampire turned back, Robin was struck by a sudden dread. "Err… you wouldn't consider joining the Teen Titans, would you?" A sharp, cold voice echoed out of the hood. "Titans? Who're they?" The teen wonder gestured towards the others. "We are."
Saro sat in Lady Integra's office, contemplating the events that had taken place over the past two weeks. He had taken up Robin's offer on a provisional basis; he had left the team when his furlough was up. Now he was here to ask Lady Hellsing to allow him to return. The door closed behind him, and he turned. Alucard stood there. "Master?" The elder vampire raised his hand to forestall any further questions. "Integra knows why you're here. She's agreed to let you leave on one condition. You tell me why." Saro nodded, then told his story.
Alucard sat back, nodding. "Yes… It is time you got out and lived your life. We've got things under control here, and you'd always be able to call us if you needed help… You should take him up on the offer." Saro sat up straighter. "You really think so?" Alucard chuckled softly. "Yes, but first, I'm going to release you. You know what that entails." Saro only nodded as Alucard pulled out a knife, cut his wrist, and let the blood drain into a small bowl. The younger vampire took it and drank it dry. "And now…" Alucard snapped his fingers, and Saro vanished.
He reappeared on a rooftop near the bay, looking off at Titans Tower. Saro glanced down at himself. He was dressed similarly to Alucard, but he wore a silk tie stuffed into a vest, as opposed to his master's bowtie. A pair of goggles hung on his belt. Reaching down, he rested his hand on the handle of a Jackal, Alucard's trademark 13 millimeter semiautomatic handgun. Slipping the goggles onto his face, Saro grinned as night began to fall. He had lived out two lives, one as an Irish boy, and another as a Hellsing enforcer. Now he was to begin a new life.
A life as a Titan.
Well, there you have it. The first history of the Titans Night. Others will come, unless of course you guys don't like this one. Go ahead, drop me a review; let me know what you liked, what you didn't like, and what you don't understand. Oh, and just for a little fun, I've got a little competition for you guys. Members of the Titans Night RP aren't allowed to compete, and if you go to the board and look it up, well, you suck. ANYWAY, here's the little quiz: what does Letius's name mean? Good luck!