My life runs longer than my memory.  I cannot see the past that I have lived, but only experience the powers I have learned as they recall through my subconscious.  I am a immortal.  This is my gift.  This is my curse.  The bloodlust that flows through my veins on the fiery hot coals that consume my flesh compell me to kill and feast to survive and to spread my poison like my seed, always looking for my next victim or next kinfolk.  Never knowing when it will consume me I feel that I am losing control of myself.  I find that I no longer simply kill for the need of blood, but now just to kill.  The adrenaline keeps me going.  I have become that which I swore that I would neer be.  The scourge of the land, the reason my kind has been hated since before my birth.
The night consumed the city and the moon rose welcoming me out of my lair on the sixth floor.  The calls of my ancestral memory pressing me forward to kill and live.  Lurking in the shadows of the urban world that I now call my home.  People pass in their lives totally oblivios to my precence or the underlying meanings thereof.  Three tonight have I already killed.  The lives of the inocent are the only things that with quiet my mind and stop the hororific screams that fill my thoughts.  From behind the statue of a dead leader I see my fourth.  A single mother walking with he infant in a stroller trying to calm its cries and lull it into sleep.  As she passes she smiles and nods to several people that call to her attention.  Seconds later I fall into step behind her, using inate powers to confuse those that surround us, they will never have seen me.  She turns the corner to a sidestreet that leads to her apartment.  The sidewalk is cracked and broken, and the child is awoken again as the mother lets out a sigh.  She tries to hush it, but there is nothing than be done to quell the childs cries.
As she approaches the door she pushes it open and walks inside still unaware of my presence.