'All is fair in love and war.'
A general in love.
'You troll always, you troll everywhere,
You troll on land and in the water!'
Tobi, a Good Boy.
*******************************************
Morbius. How much was contained in that name...
Count Dracula's illegitimate son had fallen seriously for Felicia. Even when I directly demanded that he stay away from another man's woman, he had the nerve to reply that he saw no engagement ring on her finger and that I could take such requests and go...
In short, only the large number of people surrounding us and my mantra—the one about idiots, witnesses, and security cameras—saved him. But I could not let that... that... argh, I did not even know what to call him... escape without punishment. What could I do?
Actually killing the... subject was impossible. I wanted to, certainly, but every suspicion would fall on me and Felicia would not appreciate it.
Simply beating his face was possible—even necessary—but I did not want to imitate Flash Thompson. Flash had tried to rearrange my face after finally understanding that he and Felicia had not merely 'argued a little.' She had sent him away quite definitively, though in a less vulgar form than my description. The general direction had been clear.
What, then? I needed an idea. Something especially nasty, but not dangerous to life or health—except perhaps mental health. Then my gaze fell upon a bookstore window. Something there looked familiar. Oh God. No. Not that. A nervous tic began. Why—why—in this dreadful world had Professor Tolkien's work not received its deserved recognition, while THIS was already called a bestseller?
Behind the display glass lay one of my worst nightmares: 'Twilight. The Saga.' Most men had probably been forced to watch that 'masterpiece' in a cinema after surrendering to the irresistible pressure of the gentler sex, so they would understand me. I respected the Children of the Night, and after the genuinely brilliant 'Interview with the Vampire,' watching those... fairies was torture. They barely needed blood and sparkled in sunlight. What else were they?
How did real vampires tolerate it? Hm. Wait. Fairies. I appeared to have found the perfect revenge against Michael. Such a kind smile spread across my face that an approaching pedestrian lost color and circled me at a considerable distance. Was I truly that frightening? Strange, Felicia liked the way I smiled.
Discovering where Morbius lived required no effort, since he hid from no one. Now I climbed the wall while trying not to draw attention. Hm. This felt familiar. Never mind. Despite my dislike of Michael, I had to admit that we resembled each other strongly. We both favored dark colors. We both studied neogenics, though with different objectives. We had both fallen in love with the same young woman—and that sarcastic pest kept pouring oil onto the fire. What a Cat. No matter. I would tame her gradually, though it remained uncertain who would tame whom. Most importantly, both of us preferred living somewhere high above the ground. Yes, as you may have guessed, I was climbing toward Morbius.
That damned book had suggested an exceptionally elaborate practical joke. I spent three days in the laboratory squeezing every scrap of chemistry from my brain. The suffering of the poor animal produced one interesting gel and one equally interesting paint. I intended to test their effects on a 'volunteer.' What gel and paint? Nothing dangerous. Ordinary makeup—with a delayed activation time.
Here was our little vampire's lair. Not bad. Comfortable, even. Bats hung from the ceiling, cobwebs decorated the corners. A perfectly respectable crypt. At the center of this magnificence lay my future test subject, though he had not yet learned of his new appointment. Who cared? Certainly not me. The future volunteer slept peacefully. A small effort, and now he would definitely not awaken. He might even receive an interesting dream. As for side effects from the intervention... I believed he would survive.
A dark figure bent over the sleeping man and performed several manipulations. Five minutes later, the figure finished its obscure work, inspected the surrounding room once more, and moved to the sleeper's belongings. After treating those as well with a threatening-looking device, the figure added the final touch to its Plan by switching off the alarm clock beside the bed. Then it departed the room as it had entered—through the window.
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Michael Morbius.
Michael breathed heavily and moved restlessly in his sleep. He dreamed of a man in a black cloak decorated with red clouds and a spiral mask, promising to punish him 'in the name of Tsunade's sacred brea—pardon, sacred bosom.' Who Tsunade was and why her bosom was sacred, the student either failed to remember or was never told. He awoke exhausted and completely unrested.
"Right. Wash, then university."
Morbius smiled. Today he would invite Felicia to a scientific conference. She had wanted to attend, but that bastard Mayer showed no hurry to take her. Michael could not ignore the opportunity.
Mayer...
A strange man with whom the Romanian shared a great deal. Perhaps they might even have become friends—if they were not competing for the attention of one extremely attractive woman.
Morbius frowned.
So far, the damned German surpassed him in every category. But Michael would not have been himself if he surrendered so easily. A glance at the clock made the student swear. He had forgotten to set the alarm and overslept. Their first class was Doctor Connors's lecture. If Michael arrived late, the 'kind' professor would drain so much blood that any vampire would die of envy. He postponed washing until better times, brushed his teeth rapidly—a couple of strokes with the toothbrush—dressed, and ran outside.
The day was sunny and warm. One would never have guessed autumn had begun. Michael reached the institute quickly, but strange things began at the entrance. Almost the entire group had gathered outside. When they noticed him, they began looking at him oddly. Felicia emerged from the crowd—arm in arm with Mayer. Michael ground his teeth but decided to observe courtesy.
"Good morning, Felicia." He kissed her hand. "Walter."
A neutral nod toward the young man, who continued studying him thoughtfully. Good. Manners had been satisfied. They could begin the verbal fencing that had already become traditional. With Mayer staring like that, Michael possessed an excellent opening.
"Mr. Mayer, why are you looking at me that way? Have you fallen in love?"
The first thrust. How would Walter answer?
"You know, Mr. Morbius, I suspected that you were fond of vampires, but it never occurred to me that you preferred THOSE vampires. As for my feelings, forgive me, but you are not my type—especially in your current role."
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Walter Mayer.
When I saw Michael marching proudly toward us in a delicate pink coat, his face sparkling as though covered in diamonds... Yes. The gel and paint had justified every second of labor. I took out my phone and quietly photographed the approaching man. Several classmates followed my example.
The conversation with the Romanian entertained me greatly. Gods, how difficult it was to keep a serious expression while my entire being shook with suppressed laughter. If only he understood the grave he was digging with those words. Deciding to end the performance, I asked Felicia to lend the poor man a mirror.
Every woman's handbag truly contained a mirror. Though if one searched carefully, a portal between dimensions might also be found. How else could their capacity be explained?
Michael's expression when he understood his appearance raised me to the highest summit of bliss. That indescribable combination of shock, shame, rage, and the desire to be anywhere else—with sparkling illumination. Yes. The memory would warm my soul through many cold winter evenings.
Naturally, Morbius abandoned the lecture and hurried away. The students moved into the building. Felicia and I remained behind for a moment. She looked at me with interest, as though assessing me anew.
"Confess. Was this your work?"
She advanced on me threateningly, though her eyes laughed.
"My lady, how could you imagine such a thing? I'm white and fluffy."
Smile and wave, gentlemen. Smile and wave.
"Really?"
Felicia examined my black leather coat skeptically.
"Absolutely," I said, nodding. "Incidentally, I heard something about a scientific exhibition. Would you like to go?"
I moved gradually away from the Morbius subject.
"All right. But you'll have to explain a great many incomprehensible things. You know perfectly well that I understand very little about all your radiation and nucleic acids, to put it mildly."
"That isn't a problem. I'll help."
That ended the conversation, and we hurried after our classmates.
Several more days passed.
I continued spending time with Felicia. The exhibition proved genuinely interesting, and we both enjoyed it. I made no hurry to progress beyond kissing.
At night, I quietly wandered dark streets and howled at the moon. I wanted to master the roar with which I had destroyed the Hobgoblin's mind, but had achieved no success. Alas. I was no Dragonborn. When I was not walking, I sat at home and 'meditated,' trying to contact the portion of myself inside the colonel. A significant number of my cells remained in him. I even hoped it might become possible to transfer my consciousness temporarily into his body.
Then, one fine day, Curt called and announced that he had discovered a way to slow Parker's evolution, but required my help.
Oh, yes. I nearly forgot. Six of the state's most dangerous criminals had somehow escaped from its most secure prison. How delightful.