Pilot Episode: Crimson Dorms – "The Bite at 2 A.M."
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Cold Open
The streets were wet with leftover rain, black asphalt gleaming under the buzzing streetlamps. Bars had just spilled out their chaos, and the air stank of cigarette smoke, whiskey breath, and damp pavement. Jacob staggered out last, thirty years old, drunk enough to laugh at his own reflection in a storefront window. His co-workers were still inside, ordering another round, but he waved them off.
"Three blocks. That's all I need. Three blocks and I'm home," he muttered, swaying as he pulled his jacket tighter. His footsteps echoed like someone else's behind him. He stopped, turned. Nothing.
Then came the whisper. Not a voice. Not even words. Just a sharp hiss, like air pressed through a cracked pipe. Jacob's drunken haze sharpened into fear. He quickened his pace. The whisper followed.
The first mistake was looking back. The second was trying to run.
Something invisible tripped his legs out from under him, and he crashed to the pavement. Pain shot through his chin as his teeth rattled. He scrambled to stand, but then it pounced. A figure cloaked in distorted air, its body flickering like a mirage, slammed him down. Jacob screamed as fangs buried into his neck.
It wasn't just blood draining—it was air tearing from his lungs, his chest collapsing, his veins burning. Then came the blade. Not steel. Not bone. A weapon made of compressed air itself pierced his side, carving into him like invisible glass.
His vision flared white.
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The Awakening
Jacob awoke not in a hospital, not in his apartment, but in a dorm room that didn't belong to Earth. Posters of alien languages covered cracked walls. A desk stacked with blood vials glowed faintly. Music thumped somewhere distant—bass, laughter, moans, shouts.
He sat up with a gasp. His body felt wrong. No—different.
His reflection in the cracked mirror told the story:
• Hair longer, darker, streaked with silver threads that moved as if caught in a storm.
• Eyes a predatory gray-red, swirling with air currents inside the iris.
• His jacket had torn into a trench coat stitched with runes that pulsed faintly like veins.
• On his right arm, from elbow to wrist, an embedded blade of solidified air jutted out, transparent yet deadly, humming with a low growl.
Jacob stumbled to his feet. His breathing felt unnecessary. He wasn't gasping—he didn't need oxygen anymore. He wasn't hungry either. Just… sharper. Like every sense had leveled up.
"Welcome, freshman," a voice purred.
Jacob turned. A woman sat casually in the corner, legs crossed, wearing nothing but a blood-smeared white shirt and lace shorts. Her eyes glowed like burning coals. Fangs peeked past her lips.
"You're in Infinity College now," she said, rising slowly. "We all get dragged here the same way—bitten, broken, reborn. But you're special. You survived a dual bite. Vampire and air demon. That blade on your arm? That's not decoration. That's your curse."
Jacob opened his mouth. Nothing came out. His throat ached where the fangs had pierced him.
"Don't worry," she smirked, licking her fingers clean of blood. "You'll learn to use it. Or die screaming. That's the game."
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The Party of Blood
Before Jacob could demand answers, the dorm room door blasted open. A wave of sound and heat rolled in—music, sweat, and screams. A crowd spilled past, half-naked bodies drenched in booze and lust. But not everyone was human. Horns, wings, scales, claws—every creature Jacob had read about in myths staggered down the hall.
"Tonight's initiation," the woman said, grabbing Jacob by the wrist and yanking him into the chaos. "You want answers? You'll earn them."
The hallways reeked of alcohol and sex. Students pinned each other against lockers, kissing hard enough to draw blood. Fights broke out mid-dance, claws tearing into flesh, only for the wounds to glow and close seconds later. Music wasn't just music—it was a summoning chant hidden under bass.
Jacob stumbled through, dazed, until they reached a massive common room lit by fire pits. At the center, a bulletin board towered. Flyers weren't about classes. They were missions.
Mission Slips – Hunter Grind:
• Raid rival fraternity: "The Crimson Fangs." Reward: 300 EXP.
• Escort professor's corpse to the morgue. Reward: 100 EXP.
• Assassinate cheating incubus lover. Reward: 500 EXP.
Jacob's escort shoved a slip into his hand.
Mission: Kill your first traitor. Reward: 200 EXP.
Jacob blinked. "What the hell—"
"Your target's at the party," she whispered in his ear, her tongue flicking his neck. "She betrayed her crew. She's drunk. She won't see it coming. Use that blade."
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The First Kill
The party swelled louder. Jacob pushed through the crowd, following the slip's description. His target was a girl with glowing blue eyes and a serpent tattoo winding up her thigh. She danced wildly on a table, body shimmering between human and scaled. Everyone around her cheered.
Jacob's stomach twisted. She looked… alive. Too alive. But then she spotted him. Her smile faltered.
"You're new," she slurred, hopping down, swaying toward him. Her eyes narrowed. "They sent you to kill me, didn't they?"
Jacob froze. His blade hummed at his elbow, eager, vibrating with hunger. His heart pounded—but then he realized. He had no heartbeat. Just silence.
"Yes," Jacob whispered finally.
She lunged. Her hand shot to his throat, claws digging in. Jacob's instincts exploded. His arm snapped forward, the air blade slicing upward, through her ribs, up into her sternum. She gasped, blood spraying hot across his face, her body twitching as the crowd screamed and cheered.
"Level up," a voice whispered inside his skull.
Jacob dropped her body. His blade glowed brighter, humming with satisfaction. The slip in his hand dissolved into ash. A HUD appeared faintly in his vision:
Jacob – Level 2
EXP: 0 / 1000
Prestige: 0
The crowd surrounded him, chanting his name as if he were already part of them. Hands grabbed him—pulling, touching, dragging him into the mass. Some kissed his neck, others smeared his face with blood, others whispered promises of sex, power, betrayal.
Jacob stood still, chest heaving with the phantom rush of air. He had killed. And it felt… easy.
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The Aftermath
The woman from before appeared again, slipping through the crowd like smoke. She pressed against him, lips brushing his ear.
"Good boy. You're one of us now. An assassin vampire. Not just a hunter—an executioner. Missions will get bloodier, dirtier, and messier. But don't forget—"
She grabbed his jaw, forcing him to meet her glowing eyes.
"Every betrayal cuts both ways. One day you'll be the target."
Jacob's HUD flickered again.
Side Quest Unlocked: Dorm Betrayals
Track and resolve your crew's scandals. Success grants hidden EXP. Failure leads to death—or worse.
Jacob exhaled slowly. Around him, the party devolved into pure chaos: couples disappearing into dark corners, students fighting with blades and claws, professors watching from balconies while smoking black cigars. It wasn't a college. It was a battlefield disguised as lust and laughter.
And Jacob was already enrolled.
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Closing Scene
He wandered outside at dawn, blood still on his clothes, the air blade retracting into his arm with a hiss. The sun didn't burn him. Another difference. Another mutation.
"Prestige Zero, Level Two," he muttered, staring at the rising sky. "How many missions before I lose myself?"
Behind him, a scream ripped through the dorm, followed by laughter, followed by silence. The world had no end. Neither did the grind.
Jacob smiled faintly, baring his fangs. "Guess we'll find out."