writing help: Hey i started writing this book a while ago, i dont know if i should finish it though. - Help.com

Hey i started writing this book a while ago, i dont know if i should finish it though.

Here is the first few pages (kinda long you dont have to read the whole thing, if you want to read it at all) if you like it say something, because i don’t know if its worth finishing.

“Project Superhuman, January 23, 2164 5:23 p.m. Testing subject 1427 with beta virus 3.42 series 7,” Dr. A. Hanover announced to the small hyper cam recording the tests. He tapped the a-b plastic on the needle to get the air bubbles out. Behind him lay a man-made monster on a cold hard operating table covered by a white cloth. It was the result so far of Project Superhuman.
Hanover clinked on the plastic again before inserting the sharp tip into the creature heavily sedated on the table. It gave a sharp jolt and its eyes flung open. The air in the cold lab was heavy with anticipation, but suddenly went death cold like the creature on the table. Its eyes were blood red like the fury behind the wars it was going to fight.
The creatures muscles flexed under the restraints as they began to give. The room fills with screams to abort the test and kill the subject. People are running around gathering sedatives to stop the monster, anything to save their selfish lives.
A young assistant with her whole life ahead of her was grabbing Dr. Hanover’s lab-coat, “Abort the test!!! Please! He will kill us all!!!”
Dr. Hanover looked down at the writhing, fighting creature he had put his life’s work into, “I…I…I,” he took a deep breath and sighed, “no.” knowing that could, and would mean his life.
The cloth was tossed to the floor along with Dr. Hanover. He looked like he saw a ghost and he did. He was bleeding severely and knew he would have no chance of getting away. But he knew he had to see what his monster was capable of. He had to see what it could do. He fled to the corner protected by momentary shadows.
The floor was puddling with viruses and a thicker, deadlier liquid, red as the creatures eyes and as powerful as the anger behind them. The glass and the papers fluttered to the floor like lives soon to be taken by this monster.
The monster was taking down the researches like flies its taste for blood growing. Each persons neck snapping under is jaws or in its hands. Blood pouring out to tease him. The warm liquid running down his dry throat. His ears were pounding with screams ripping at his super sensitive hearing. Thoughts racing through his head.
He turned to see what, who he was looking for. The man who brought him into existence and made him a monster. In the corner of the room stood Dr. Hanover in awe of his monster nearing him with the intent to kill in its red eyes. Gasping he managed, “It’s….it’s…a Superhuman!”
The Superhuman crashed down the door as though it were a tooth pick. Blood stained its hands and soul. This day cut into his memory preparing scars he would hold for his whole existence, however short it could be. He had to get out. He had to be free of the horror he knew he became.
In the rooms around him more of his fellow Superhuman kinda were breaking loose and getting their first taste for blood and for the kill. Taking down dozens of lives, breaking hearts of dozens of families, and starting the new era of terror. Others were breaking free into the formerly white hallways. Panic was striking every human left as the number shrank.
Alarms were blaring and lights flashing. Cruel mocking red shone against the walls a prediction of the near future. White coats stained with red. White walls washed with red. White eyes gone with red. White hands covered in red. White piercing sharper than knife fangs dripping in red.
The hallways were filling up with more and more desperate panic stricken Superhumans. Someone called out a name. Damien, who was that? It was familiar, but the superhuman didnt know how. All the Superhumans were stripped of their personal memories, well not completely.
Blood was dripping but no longer human blood alone. Special blood, blood mixed with anti-biotics and energy suppliers. Blood that makes healing instant and things not painful. Blood attacked and re-built by scientists. Blood that boils…
Fights were breaking out everywhere, diamond hard bodies were being ripped to shreads unnaturally easily. Evil smiles flashed before each blow. Fangs met skin in a powerful strike. Everyone was a predator, everyone was prey.
Walls were smashed in and the cold night air was flowing in through gaping holes. Not that the cold mattered to the superhumans, having temperature control modules built into their brains. Too hot their already icy skin will cool down, too cold they will heat up. The perfect machine for all weather.
One superhuman felt out of place, with the people he already killed he felt it was wrong. No more lives should be taken, even those worthy to fight him. He had to get away, he had to figure out how to stop himself he couldn’t fight for his life if it meant killing others, this is wrong.
He pushed away into and empty office with a steel door and shut it. It wouldn’t hold long against his fellow superhumans, but with everyone racing to get outside for more fresh blood who would bother to wonder what was behind his door. Or with this maniac like behavior of once people, if they would have enough patience o stand in one place long enough to knock the door in.
He turned around and faced himself in the mirror. His face was mostly the same structure as he last remembered. Blood stained around his mouth and dripped lightly down from the corner of his mouth to his jaw. His eyes were the cruel new red that they had given him instead of his pale heavenly blue.
He lifted one hand and saw how quickly and gracefully he had moved. A power hungry smile twitched along his face with the amazement at who he had become. He looked up thinking about jumping in the air to test himself. The ceiling was at 10 feet, he was only 6 feet. Could he make it that high?
He crouched moving his feet slowly apart and bending his knees. Tightening all his muscles in preparation to jump. Looking up then back at himself in the mirror he jumped. He flew through the air and the world seemed to slow down around him as he had time to move perfectly.
Suddenly there was a crash and a loud crumpling noise. Had he knocked something over? He looked back up and saw the metal ceiling paneling crumpled and dented deeply. Had he done that?
He looked at himself in the mirror and saw his face had changed, he was more handsome. His jaw was more sharp, more grown up. His eyes were brighter, but the cruel blood red taunting him at what his future would be. His nose was slightly smaller and more angled.
He ran his ice fingers along his face and cheeks. He was stone cold with his skin just as firm and hard. He whipped around and picked up a letter opener off the desk. He turned to look back at this monster in the mirror.
He held his hand up and with the other brought the sharp letter opener closer. He closed his eyes and braced him self, he saw the others undamaged by the building and glass shards, but hurt by each other. The letter opener crumpled on his skin like paper.
Shocked, he opened his eyes. HIs arm was completely unharmed. What could cut through his new skin? He opened his mouth and saw the deadly sharp glittering knives he had for teeth. He took a deep breath and sank his fangs into his skin.
“YOW!!!!” The sound came from the monsters mouth, his mouth. The brightest red blood he had ever seen bubbled out from the bite mark on his arm. He clasped his hand to his arm and held it tight until the bleeding stopped. It was so odd, it looked like a major wound, but hurt like a paper cut.
He felt his blood flow slower and lifted his hand off his arm. All that remained was a bloody mess, no wound not even a scar. He had healed that fast? How was that possible. What kind of monster had they turned him into.
He had precious few memories to tell him who he was. He didn’t know his name, and didn’t know who he was. He could remember the day they brought him here, and only badly. It was a frigid day, just like today. Guards had picked him off the street and dragged him to this odd looking building.
He remembered them saying something about, just right age, just right build, he was strong and smart already. He thought they were drafting him for the dictator, Mardan’s army. He was right, but this is nothing like he expected.
They took humans and made them into something horrible. They added muscle, agility, and endurance. Gave them lack of need for food or sleep. Toughened the skin and enhanced the teeth. Quickened exponentially how fast they moved and how fast they healed. Sharpened their minds, reflexes and senses. And give him a taste for blood, human blood.

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Superhuman, Blood, bad, good, writing, Novel, Vampire (How Tags Affect Reciprocity)

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