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What The Master Wants	By : PolterGlitch Category: -Misc TV Shows > General Views: 1847 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own THE STRAIN fandom or any of the characters and I make no money from this fiction.

Chapter List
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Chapter Five – Betrayal
Eichhorst woke up face down slumped over a bar in the seedy part of town with no memory of how he had got there. He had drank until he had passed out, anything to cleanse his mind of the Master for the night and give him time to come down from his ferocious high. In the cold sobriety of morning, he was still determined that Justine had to be destroyed.
That bitch was a black cloud hanging over his head threatening to steal his beloved Master away from him. Eichhorst imagined draining her of every drop of blood then snapping her neck; she was not worthy of being turned. However it was problematic with the Master being able to see through his eyes, he would be even more furious if he went against him. It might cost him his free will or at worst, his life. He would need to incapacitate him for a while to disconnect him from their shared consciousness. As much as he did not want to hurt the love of his life, it was a necessary evil. A concoction of rat poison and ketamine should do the trick. Not enough to kill him but it would definitely knock him out for a few hours. Besides even the strongest dose probably would not kill him what with him being immortal.

Meanwhile, over in his nest, the Master had indeed come down and acknowledged that he may have overdone it on the narcotics. He had spent the night alone whereas he and Eichhorst would normally enjoy a few drinks and chat about genocide and the likes. As much as he hated to admit it, he had missed him. Everybody else in the building had avoided him like the plague and hid as soon as his terrifying presence was near. He tired of Justine quickly; it seemed they had absolutely nothing in common so he had locked her in her room then gone to his chambers to smoke crack until he too had passed out.
Eichhorst had not deserved the venom he had spewed at him but every time he laid his emotions out he felt an unstoppable urge to repel him by any means necessary. The sex and drug habit he had recently picked up had complicated things on both sides. He realised he'd been sending mixed signals and poor Eichhorst was probably totally confused.
What he had said to him in a fit of intoxication was unforgivable and he regretted it. He had been mean to him before but even Eichhorst had his limits. The worst part about it was that he had not meant a single word of it, quite the opposite; he had simply poked at his insecurities to hurt him.
He swallowed his pride and tapped into his mind using his gift of telepathy and in a rarity for him, he spoke with genuine emotion,
“Thomas... Yesterday was regrettable. I overindulged and said things I shouldn't have. You know I value you too much to lose you. Come back to me please. I need you by my side where you belong.”
There was a sincerity in his voice and Eichhorst knew it was as close to an apology as he was going to get. It was a big step for him to admit any kind of flaws. He could forgive him. Even the Master was not immune to getting wasted and saying things in the heat of the moment. Undying devotion was harder to break than that. But it did not alter his plan. Justine still had to die. If it were not for her being in the way, the situation would not have arose in the first place.
“Certainly. I'll be with you soon.”

He arrived back at the penthouse a short while later where the Master greeted him with a warm but slightly sheepish smile. For a time he had been worried that he would leave him permanently.
“I am glad you are back,” his voice oozed regret.
He looked tired, probably suffering the effects of a bad comedown. And it was about to get a whole lot worse. He had no idea what was about to hit him.
“Sit down Master, make yourself comfortable,” Eichhorst said.
Broken glass crunched under his feet from the aftermath of his tantrum but the bar had thankfully been restocked. Eichhorst discreetly slipped the illicit substances into a pint glass of B positive with a splash of vodka to help mask the taste. He hoped that the Master was not seeing through his eyes at that moment. He peered next door and saw him lounging on the couch listening to trance music. It did not look like he could be bothered to do any possessing today. Crack cocaine comedowns could be brutal, especially with the amount he had had. Nevertheless, he still had to sedate him, just to make sure.
“Here you go my lord,” Eichhorst said sitting down next to him and handing him the glass.
“Thank you,” he smiled and put his arm around him. “See, getting me a drink before I even asked. This is why you are my number one.”
“You don't have to touch me if you don't want to,” Eichhorst said sadly pulling away from him. “I know I'm not worthy of you. I understand perfectly. I'm just a dumb, desperate, degenerate and I'm shit at everything.”
“You know thats not true,” the Master almost choked on his words. “If it was then why would I allow you to share a bed with me? What I said was wrong. I really needed you with me last night. I missed you. And I am touching you because I want to. You are very special to me.”
He pulled him back and kissed him on the cheek. Eichhorst couldn't help but smile but the compliment multiplied the guilt that was drowning him inside. The Master was trying so hard to make things right, defying his very nature by being emotional and affectionate but Eichhorst had his doubts that things would ever be the same between them, especially after what he was about to do. If he only knew. It was rare to see him so vulnerable, plus he was probably feeling deeply ashamed after devolving into a frenzied, acid tongued animal whereas he normally valued his dignity so highly and passed himself off as the king that he was.
The guilt got too much for Eichhorst – he could not bring himself to hurt him when he was already at a low point. He reached out to snatch the drink back off him but a moment too late. The Master's stinger shot out and he downed the lot. It slid down his throat smoothly with no hint of anything untoward. There was no going back now.
It was only a matter of minutes before Eichhorst felt his hand begin to tremble on his shoulder as the shivers set in. Next came the cramping. He pulled his arm back and doubled over in agony.
“I feel sick,” he winced, a primitive strigoi screech escaping him. “Where did you get that blood?”
Eichhorst shrugged innocently and avoided his pained glare, “Just some crackheads in town.”
His eyes rolled and his vision blurred as waves of intense nausea washed over him. Eichhorst stood up allowing him to lie down on the couch. Through his squinting eyes, the Master could see three of him so deemed it best to close them altogether. One Eichhorst was enough. He felt vomit creeping up and tried desperately to swallow it back down as he clung to the sides of the furniture, which to him felt like it was on a rough sea.
“Do you need me to get you a bucket?” Eichhorst asked anxiously when he saw him bucking and retching.
“What for?” he asked as a drug induced confusion smothered him.
He did not like this feeling. He did love a good high but this was a very bad buzz. He could hear Eichhorst answering him but his voice was distorted as if he were speaking some alien language. A sharp pain ripped through his body. The ability to think straight was rapidly slipping away from him. He reached out in desperation and grabbed Eichhorst's hand.
“Stay with me, don't leave me,” he pleaded. “Don't let me die.”
“Of course I won't,” Eichhorst answered.
There was a fear in the Master's voice that was new to him. Eichhorst felt his conscience devouring him. He hated seeing his love suffering.
“Why don't I help you get to bed,” he said pulling him up, almost buckling under his weight.
At least there he could preserve some of what dignity he had left. It would not be good for the other strigoi to see their leader in such a state. It was a battle to get him back to his box; the Master could barely stand let alone walk. He collapsed twice and the second time Eichhorst helped him to his feet he threw up all over him.
“Oops... My bad, sorry Nazi, I don't feel so good, it hurts,” he slurred apologetically.
“It's OK my lord, you just need to sleep it off,” he reassured him, trying to hide his distaste at his ruined suit.
“Unicorns, bread man, wheel,” he mumbled. The ketamine had kicked in. This was a good thing – at least it would help numb the pain of the rat poison seeping into his organs.
Yes, he was in no fit state to take control of anyone or see through any of his strigoi's eyes. He could not even see through his own. There was no way he would know what Eichhorst was planning on doing. He carefully bundled him back in his box and lovingly stroked his shivering body.
“Just go to sleep. It will all wear off and you will feel better soon,” he said softly.
The Master peeled his eyelids open and looked at the figure kneeling over him. Never before had he felt so helpless. He could not even recall his name but he knew he needed him more than ever.
“Don't leave me,” he repeated. “Tom – Nazi – German - whatever your name is.”
“I won't, I'll stay by your side and take care of everything,” Eichhorst answered feeling awful that he was going to break his promise.
Nevertheless, his words comforted the Master, he was too sick to realise he was being fooled. He curled up wincing and clutching his stomach and soon passed out from the agony tearing through his body.
“Sleep well mein Meister,” Eichhorst said.
He slid the lid on and went to pay Justine one last visit.

What he saw surprised him. Justine greeted him with an expression full of pity. She was dressed in her usual attire and looking purposeful.
“Hello Mr. Eichhorst,” she said.
Eichhorst scowled at her wondering why she would have the nerve to feel sorry for him. Yesterday, he had been a 'sick bastard' but now she was addressing him as mister. Where did the respect suddenly come from?
“How are you feeling?” she asked anxiously.
“I'm fine,” he snapped at her, circling her and glaring at her with his piercing eyes. “What's your agenda here Miss Feraldo?”
“I am getting out of here, I think you should come to.”
Eichhorst continued his death stare, “Why would I abandon the Master?”
“Why would you stay?” cried Justine in disbelief. “He treats you like shit! The way that bastard talks to you is awful! You should come with us and join the good fight. Take him down!”
He could not deny the Master's words had broken his heart but he was willing to forgive and forget. It was clear that he regretted his actions.
“You want me to join up with you? No, I only live to serve him.”
“Even though he abuses you? That's OK with you? You would be great with us and my people would treat you with respect.”
Eichhorst grinned at the realisation that he could use her to his advantage. He never did get to fully enjoy her glorious feminine body. The Master's outburst had put a stop to it... but there was no chance of that happening now, he would be out of action for a few hours at least. The hum in his head was quiet. It was true, he was madly in love with the Master but he was primarily attracted to women. He approached her looking at her with longing eyes.
“Well... what benefits would there be for me if I turned against the Master? Of course people would respect me but what else can you offer me Miss Feraldo?”
He stood over her and his gaze drifted down to her chest as his perverted smile grew. Justine did not approve. Whilst she pitied him for being under the Master's cruel control, she had not forgotten his savage spanking, which was all his own doing. Eichhorst sensed her reluctance and gave her a gentle reminder, “Think of all the inside information I have...”
Regrettably, he was right. Justine knew she would have to sweeten him up before he would even consider betraying his love.
“I feel like we got off to a bad start before... what do you say we go back and try again?” she said.
Eichhorst leaned in and sniffed her having no regard for her personal space. Justine held her ground, trying not to recoil at his stench; stale alcohol and the Master's vomit.
“I'm sure I could be persuaded,” he smiled and curled her blonde ringlets around his finger.
Justine spied the bulge in his pants and got an incline of how the scenario was going to play out.
“You can start by getting down on your knees,” he said smoothly.
She reluctantly sank and opened his fly, springing out his erect cock. She really did not want to. There was no escaping the creepy vibes he gave off, in a way he was worse than the Master. Eichhorst was displeased at her hesitation so brought out his dark side, pressing his face up against hers and bellowing at her.
“Suck it now!”
It felt good unleashing his aggressive side, he did not have the courage to behave that way in front of the Master and he respected him far too much. Justine closed her eyes and started on the task repeatedly telling herself that it was necessary in order to escape. She wanted to be well away from the pair of sex crazed vampires and their abusive relationship.
Eichhorst moaned with delight at her warm mouth closing around his cock. The Master had indeed been correct when he had told him that she had good uses. He enjoyed them for a few minutes before pulling out. He longed to taste her curvy body. He knelt down next to her and leaned uncomfortably close to her face and creepily sniffed her, lavishing the smell of the sweat beading all over her. The feel of his heavy breaths upon her skin made her cringe as his head travelled down her body to between her legs.
“Show me your beautiful skin,” he whispered. “There is no time to waste.”
As much as he wanted to savour having a beautiful lady at his mercy, the thought of the Master always hung at the back of his mind. He wanted to get as much pleasure from this encounter in as little time as possible and for that he would have to make a few sacrifices.
Reluctantly she pulled her trousers down, exposing scarlet red knickers to him, the red fabric screaming connotations of Eichhorst's fiery desire, it was all too unfortunate that it was not sincerely for his benefit. As she pressed her back against the floor and spread her legs, Eichhorst's stinger slipped from his lips. Just for a few moments he managed to tame his desires,
“Miss Feraldo... Remove these too.. slowly.”
As she did so, his stinger wandered to her inner thighs, touching her flesh and the fearful sweat her skin leaked. Now her pussy was open to him, much to her despair.
“What are you doing?” she cried as she felt the drool dripping from his stinger. “The Master said he would let me go! He said he wouldn't turn me!”
“The Master is indisposed. Now you answer to me,” Eichhorst smiled sinisterly.
Justine wriggled beneath him in an attempt to get up.
“Are you really that delusional?” Eichhorst laughed, slamming both his palms down on her thighs to hold her in place.
“Please,” Justine begged tearfully. Her hopes of escaping were fading fast. “I don't want to do this.”
“I don't believe I asked you.”
He parted her legs and fired his slimy killer stinger up inside her. She was as dry as a bone but he was passed the point of caring. His strigoi impulses had taken over him and all he wanted to do was drink her. Justine was not giving up without a fight.
“Get off me motherfucker!” she shrieked.
She brought her knee up and slammed her foot into the side of his face but all she succeeded in doing was angering him further. His stinger's sharp teeth penetrated her and he watched the colour drain from her face with great smugness as he literally sucked the life out of her. Acting out his fantasy, he gripped her lifeless head between his hands and effortlessly twisted, enjoying the satisfying sound of the snap of her neck. He did not want her to turn. Next he had to get rid of the body so he made a trip to the incinerator and tossed her in like she was garbage. His trademark egotistical smile spread over his face while he breathed in the smell of her burning flesh. Now his love rival was gone forever.
The magnitude of what he had done began to sink in. He had to return to the Master as soon as possible before he realised he was gone. Panic set in, his smile disappeared and he rushed back to the penthouse. The pull of the bar was strong and he gave in to his alcoholic urges to have a swift drink, just to calm his jangled nerves.

The weakened Master awoke with a pounding headache and a bad taste in his mouth. Eichhorst was nowhere to be seen. Despite being heavily intoxicated, he could still remember his promise to stay by his side. Why had he abandoned him? Judging by the dried vomit he and his box were covered in, he had been gone a long time. He would never have let him sleep with sick all over himself. Thankfully he had brought most of the poison up but still the effects lingered. He felt dreadful. He contemplated changing bodies but he did not want to lose his monster cock so he had no option but to tough it out. For the time being, sex was the last thing on his mind. He had been spiked. There was no doubt about it. Maybe they were under attack, that damn Jew and his strigoi hunters had infiltrated his hideout and that would explain Eichhorst's absence. The alternative didn't bear thinking about.
He had recovered enough to use his powers, so it was not difficult to locate the elusive German. He was near. Very near. In the bar pouring himself a cocktail!
The Master appeared before him looking dishevelled, bleary eyed and smelling worse than normal. Eichhorst was riddled with guilt (not for killing Justine but for drugging the Master) and needed a Pina Colada to help compose himself. He had hoped his lord would have slept until he had finished it. Never before had he seen him looking so ill but it had to be done, he told himself, in order to preserve his own life and allow their love to blossom without interference.
“What's happened? Were we attacked? Why are you here drinking when you swore you would stay with me?”
“Yes... a pack of rabid Jews, never seen them before,” Eichhorst answered hurriedly. “They contaminated your blood. I dealt with them though but I am afraid there were some losses. I am sorry I needed a quick drink for the shock. I was on my way back to you.”
“Losses?” he asked puzzled. He was connected to all his strigoi spawn and they were all accounted for.
“I am afraid they killed Miss Feraldo.”
The Master squinted at him; the cogs turning in his head. It didn't make sense. Why would humans break into his headquarters to kill their own kind? He still felt fuzzy and needed more time to recover to put the pieces together.
“Right,” he said deciding to go along with him for now. “That's unfortunate. Well done for getting rid of those nasty Jews. You earned your cocktail. Enjoy it.”
For Eichhorst, it seemed too good to be true. Did he believe his fiction? He seemed to, or he was still too unwell to even question it. But the Master could not shake off his doubts.
“I feel like shit,” he said bluntly. “I thought it was only sunlight and silver that could make me feel like this. If I had not been so impaired in the first place maybe I would have noticed my drink was poisoned. But I thought that was your job Herr Eichhorst? To serve me and take care of my interests? Where were you when I needed you?”
“I was doing what you asked of me! You told me to go... I believe your words included 'stupid Nazi freak'... 'dumb desperate degenerate cunt' and that I was to stop slobbering all over you, which I assure you, I was doing no such thing! I thought it would be wise to give you some space for your sake and mine. You cannot put the blame on me if some Jews broke in while I was gone,” Eichhorst answered, now feeling thankful for the events of the previous night. It made his story seem more believable and if he played things right, the Master may keep him even closer for protection.
“Let me run you a bath, it'll help you feel better,” he added then scurried off before he had chance to interrogate him.
The Master's suspicions grew. There was one obvious explanation that was staring him in the face but he did not want to confront that until he had exhausted all other possibilities.
Eichhorst made a big effort to fuss over him, decorating the rims of the bath with candles and leaving him a drink on the side, which the Master was dubious about taking.
“Would you like me to stay with you?” Eichhorst asked.
“No,” the Master answered. “Wait outside. I want some time by myself.”
He undressed and slipped into the tub for a well needed soak to rid the stench of vomit. He sat alone in the dark focussing all his energy into regaining his strength to prior his body being polluted. If any lesser creature, human or strigoi, had taken the amount of substances he had over the last couple of days they would certainly be dead, many times over and the rat poison in particular would have been lethal to his fellow strigoi. He was thankful that he had a much stronger tolerance.
He had a terrible feeling in the pit of his stomach not to trust Eichhorst.
When facing his enemies, Eichhorst was a formidable opponent. He was smart, slick and ruthless with an authoritive demeanour about him that put terror into humans and strigoi alike. They had known each other for years and he still got giddy when he was around him and turned into a bumbling idiot if things didn't go according to plan or when he questioned him. His words reeked of guilt. Although desperately willing it not to be true, the Master had no problem in seeing through his lies.
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What The Master Wants