Lord Sinistra
Retired High Councilor
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Post by Lord Sinistra on Mar 7, 2014 18:33:54 GMT -8
The steady rain outside the factory pounded on the metal roof, masking the sound of thunder overhead. The coroner and his sickly looking assistant, Joey, had just hoisted the body bag on the gurney, the air heavy with the smell of old wood, dust and grease. Lightning split the night off in the distance, barely bringing the attention of the multitude of cops wandering around the crime scene. The body was off the hardwood floor, but the puddle of crimson on the floor had cooled and congealed already. She'd been dead a few hours tops.
She was a knockout, in the wrong part of town for the way she was dressed. She had to be a socialite, the clothes were probably work more than a beat cop's take home. Her long brown hair was sleek and smooth, styled to match the curves of the mermaid off the shoulder silver gown she wore. There were no signs of a struggle, just a peaceful look on her porcelain face. Like she was sleeping. Except for the jagged slash across her throat. It didn't add up, just to look at it. There were no ligature marks on her. She came willingly or she was carried in. How does a woman like that get in here?
The refineries on the south side of the city near the Indiana border were full of people who had been downtrodden their entire lives, the drift of petcoke on the winds staining everything with its stench. This place hadn't even been active in years, but there was a burglar alarm that rousted someone out of bed who knew enough at a glance that the gate was open when it shouldn't be. Otherwise, would they have ever found her?
Joey had just put his hands on the gurney to move her to the freight elevator when he heard a groan come from the body bag. At first he was sure he was hearing things, the storm had been loud and forceful, a late autumn boomer to rattle the glass towers of downtown Chicago as it came off the lake. He pushed again, and once more the noise came from the bag, only this time it moved. Joey stumbled back as the bag shifted, as though something was writhing to try and get out. He stuttered and pointed, drawing attention to the spectacle, his heart racing at the impossible right before his eyes. Everyone in the dingy, abandoned office space froze when the bag rolled off the table with a thud and a very much alive voice called out "Ow!"
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Post by Deleted on Mar 7, 2014 18:57:34 GMT -8
Poor Joey. He's a good kid. Doesn't deserve the sort of night he was about to have.
I'm not sure what spooked him more, the talking stiff or a beat up, one eyed ex-cop tapping him on the shoulder.
"You want to be somewhere else right now, kid. Trust me."
Takes a real pro to spit out some shit like that without ever taking the cigarette out of your mouth. Joey might not recognize me, but he saw an out for what it was and got the hell out of there. His boss was probably slacking off somewhere, wouldn't give a good goddamn what his assistant was up to as long as the stiff was in the van when it rolled up to the morgue even if he wasn't. Civil servants don't get paid to work in this town, they get paid to stay out of the way.
The body in the bodybag (funny how that works) is starting to freak out. My contact on the force didn't tell me who the mark was, just that this was my area of expertise. When you loose an eye to the things that go bump in the night, you tend to take an interest. And if that interest gets you dubbed crazy and fired, you get a P.I. license and your old buddies on the force throw you a bone every now and then. Case in point, I'm standing in the back of a coroner's van in the ass end of town, rain soaking through my jacket, because this body has to disappear.
For a cool grand, I'm more than happy to deal with Chicago's newest vampire.
"Listen," I said, trying to calm down the undead freak that was currently doing its best Houdini impression band failing miserably. "There are men with guns not fifty feet away. They're not going to react well to seeing a dead body get up and start walking."
I started to unzip the bag, hoping the scar that ran from my hairline to my jaw and straight through what used to be my left eye didn't spook it even more. These first few hours, they're no stronger than a human, but a panicking human can cause an awful lot of damage.
"Just stay calm and I'll get you out of here, no pro-"
Holy shit. I've seen a pretty face or two in my time, but she was something else. Pale skin, dark hair, cheekbones so high you could just about suffocate trying to find the top, and the roundest, bluest eyes I have ever seen.
"Uh, hi."
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Lord Sinistra
Retired High Councilor
VE Human Capital Management & Talent Acquisition
Posts: 1,474
Affiliation: The Vegemite Enclave
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Post by Lord Sinistra on Mar 7, 2014 20:10:54 GMT -8
She looked at him, tearing flowing down those alabaster cheeks, smearing her mascara and making her face a mess. However, there was no telltale blotching around her nose and eyes, the way a living mortal would get when they cried a good hard cry. Looking around at the multitude of cops and crime technicians, she started to shake like a small dog, almost vibrating with nervousness. She had no idea where she was, this wasn't the party on Shoreline Drive. She felt dirty and scared, her body stiff and sore from laying on the floor.
"Please, where am I? What happened to me?" The man in front of her was grizzled, a long scar over his face that cut through where an eye should have been, and the way he looked at her made her even more scared. The way the cops looked at her, she could sense them judging her. She was used to that look, the silent need and disapproval of her. They were all the same, they wanted a piece of her but then shamed her for letting them take it. Thems were the breaks when you were an escort.
He brought her attention back to him as he opened up the rest of the bag, and she looked down to see the blood stain down the front of her dress. She screamed, her hands immediately raising to her mouth. She bawled into those hands a good minute before her fingers brushed across her throat to feel the significant gash that bisected her lovely, long neck. Panic hit those blue eyes and she grabbed the man in front of her, her voice screeching in terror.
"Oh god, you have to help me, I don't want to die."
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Post by Deleted on Mar 7, 2014 20:43:33 GMT -8
I sighed, and sort of patted her on the head in what I hoped was a reassuring way.
"The good news is, that's not going to happen. In a few hours, you'll be good as new. The bad news..."
It's never easy breaking the news. Most of the ones I find are used up hookers or druggies or people no one will miss. Tell some of them that they're the next best thing to immortal and they lose it because dying was all they had left. Then you have to sort out the good from the bad, and the bad ones need to get dead again. Quick. It's not always easy to tell which ones are gonna be monsters and which ones are gonna be harmless. Lord knows I've made mistakes one way. Probably the other way too, but we'll never find out.
"Look, let's get out of here. This is too a long story to tell right now. Just trust me on this. You're going to be fine. Let's settle on getting you safe for now, okay?"
Whether or not she believed me, he came along anyway. I had a bag with me with one of those thermal blankets EMTs use for shock victims. I got her out of the bodybag, wrapped her up in the blanket, and into my old Crown Vic. The cops were pointedly looking the other way, engrossed in something massively important that gave them an excuse not to notice I was escorting a murder victim from the scene.
Already she was looking a little better. Wasn't much color in her face to begin with, I'd wager, but the edges of that slash were starting to close up. You know, it's always bugged me that these newbies can talk through a slit throat.
I consider turning on the car radio as we head up the road, but the antenna never works in the rain, and that damned Golden Palaminos CD has been stuck since 2008. It's a good groove, but this night is macabre enough. Let the awkward silence begin.
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Lord Sinistra
Retired High Councilor
VE Human Capital Management & Talent Acquisition
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Affiliation: The Vegemite Enclave
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Post by Lord Sinistra on Mar 7, 2014 21:08:32 GMT -8
She kept fiddling with the wound on her neck, as she stared catatonic out the window. She didn't recognize street names or landmarks as they drove on. She wanted to go home but from the way she was quietly ushered from the crawling crime scene, she figured that effectively immediately she had no home. She wiped away another of the seeping tears that tracked down her face, her mind trying to recall what happened to her. The last thing she remembered was a glass of champagne in a study, then nothing.
The rain mirrored her morose feelings and with a sniff, she broke the silence in the car. "Who are you? What am I?" She wanted answers and he had not asked her name. Maybe he knew who she was already, her silver beaded purse was on the front seat next to her. She didn't remember carrying it out of the factory, but maybe he had it in his hand. She was full of questions but had no energy to want to know. Everything just seemed dismal as the overwhelming sense of impending doom hit her right between the eyes.
She turned to get another look at him when she doubled over in pain, her stomach twisted upon itself in knots. It could have been the worst mentral cramps she had ever experienced but they were too high in her abdomen. She howled in anguish, clutching at her midsection and rocking from the hunger. The first time is always the worst in the newly bitten. As much as the hunger turned her stomach into a roiling ball of agony, her gums started to bleed as her canines were pushed out of her mouth by the newly erupting fangs that would facilitate her feeding. If she made it that long. He was running out of time to get her into a safe location until the morning.
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Post by Deleted on Mar 7, 2014 21:47:35 GMT -8
The first "hunger pangs" are the most painful, but that works well for little old me. If the freaks could actually move during that first surge, or hell, even recognize it for what it was, I'd have been a dead man years ago.
That's not to say I had all the time in the world. It could be ten minutes until the next one, or it could be an hour. My place was only about seven minutes out, a small apartment in a run down building on the outskirts of town.
The coppery stench of blood filled the car, overpowering even the odor of stale cigarettes that normally served as the car's fragrance. Good news and bad. Bad in that she had her fangs already. Whatever had turned her, it was a powerful beast. That meant she could get ugly with a quickness. The good news was that she now had a mouthful of blood. It was her own, so feeding on it wouldn't turn her completely, but it would sate her for a little while. That bought me precious minutes, minutes that could spell life and death for the both of us.
"I'm Nicholas, last name unnecessary for now. You can call me Nick. That's the easy one."
I jumped a little as the cherry on the cigarette burned my fingers, but not so much that I dropped it. I popped a fresh one from the pack and lit it off the old before continuing. Good old American Spirits. I don't have much in this world, but at least I can get my lung cancer with class.
"As for what you are, that's a little harder to answer. Recently deceased and reanimated by forces unknown is the medical phrase, though it just describes your condition. What you are, well, ask me again at sunrise."
I took a long drag off the coffin nail. The smoke wasn't just for me. I've found over the years that the newly turned are as sensitive to nicotine as the newly born. Any addictions they had in life tend to be purged, as well as any tolerances they built up. The secondhand smoke doesn't have enough in it to make them sick, but it does help calm them down.
"What you just felt was the first hunger pang. See, you weren't just murdered for your looks. You were food. The thing that killed you was a vampire. What you're feeling is the intense desire to consume blood, preferably human. If you succeed, congratulations, you're a vampire too. We're trying to avoid that."
Seven minutes was up. I pulled into the parking lot of the dingy brick apartment complex. My spot was open, as usual. The other residents learned quickly that my Crown Vic was beat all to hell for a reason.
Getting her inside without attracting attention was a little more difficult. The slash on her throat was little more than a thin red line right now, but she was gorgeous. Way out of my league, even without the messed up eye and chain smoking. Fortunately, I'm on the first floor. We got inside without too many awkward stares or propositions.
I led her into the kitchen/dining room/den/whatever else it needed to be and invited her to sit in one of my secondhand but sinfully comfortable chairs.
"If we can keep you off blood until sunlight hits you, there's really no telling what you'll become. You still won't be human, but you won't be starring in any cheesy vampire fanfic. Succubus, shade, banshee, the list goes on. But to find out, you cannot drink the blood of another human. If you do, well, the first feeding is always fatal. Even the most noble of vampires is a murderer, and I will put you down if it comes to that."
Christ I hate this part. I've said this same little speech a hundred times, and it never gets any easier. I call them freaks because it helps me disconnect from the fact that I'm prepared to kill someone who is probably just lost and helpless and afraid, but it's a paper thin suit of armor and I know it.
I smile reassuringly.
"Good news is, the worst of the cravings has passed. These next few hours won't be fun, but you can do it."
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Lord Sinistra
Retired High Councilor
VE Human Capital Management & Talent Acquisition
Posts: 1,474
Affiliation: The Vegemite Enclave
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Post by Lord Sinistra on Mar 8, 2014 10:27:30 GMT -8
"Kate." The idea that she was killed by a vampire wasn't exactly sitting well with her. She was holding her teeth in her hand, the canines had been forcefully pushed out of her mouth by the fangs she now could feel biting into the flesh of her lower lip. This was Chicago, not some cheezy fantasy novel. She was sitting in too much reality at the moment for her mind to grasp. The blood stained dress was stiff, dried blood crusting off the bracelet on her wrist.
She started to shake again, her mouth running dry with thirst. The wound across her neck was healed up now, if she asked for a glass of water, it probably wouldn't go spilling down the front of her chest. The glass was set in front of her but the liquid within did nothing to alleviate her cotton mouth. It tasted like dirt, old pipes and the poverty that ran through this area. A film of sweat broke out on her brow and she started to get agitated.
It was almost like a whisper in her bloodstream, a urge to get very, very close to Nick. The smell of smoke and grime couldn't cover the smell of his blood and it seemed to sing to her. The pain started in her stomach and her nervous habit from childhood returned as she bit her lower lip, only this time the fangs pierced the flesh, the red of blood staining her teeth as she opened her mouth to speak.
"I'm hungry" is she could manage to murmur before she convulsed and fell out of the chair on the dirty floor. He stayed far away from her, drinking nasty coffee from a pot so stained, it barely showed the liquid within. He sat in a chair, chain smoking his cigarettes and watching her like she was a wounded animal.
The hours were the longest ones she could remember, biting her lip and tasting the blood stopped working somewhere in the wee hours of the morning. She cried, sweated and shook with hunger and pain but as the sun dawned across the skies, the agnoy abated and she lay still on the ground as light crept through the dingy windows. She was tired, weary from her ordeal and weak. She didn't pick her head up from the floor, her blue eyes cutting over to him as he looked just as tired as she, perhaps mixed with a little relief. "So what now? Can I go home?"
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Post by Deleted on Mar 8, 2014 11:06:38 GMT -8
"You could. I wouldn't recommend it, but I won't stop you, either."
She looked like hell warmed over, but the worst was behind her. There were some close calls during the night, but she never attacked. I didn't have to kill her. Well, rekill her. Look, I'm still trying to sort out the verbiage, okay? I was a cop, not an English teacher.
"Look, Kate," I said, my voice rumbling and rasping like I'd been gargling with gravel. "You're dead now. I mean, legally. We can shuffle around the paperwork to make up for the fact that you're not in the morgue right now, but that's about it. We can't bury reports of a homicide, and even if we could, the thing that got you in the first place sure as hell knows who you are."
Son of a bitch. Out of cigarettes. This night just keeps getting better and better. And, joy of joys, her bottom lip was quivering like she's about to burst into tears. I've only got so much gruff in me. I helped her off the floor and into a chair.
"On top of that, these next few hours are going to be really weird for you. You're not a vamp, which means you're not going to have to kill, but you're not human either. If you want, I'll help you this next phase, but you're free to go if you want. You might want to consider a shower and a change of clothes first, though."
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Lord Sinistra
Retired High Councilor
VE Human Capital Management & Talent Acquisition
Posts: 1,474
Affiliation: The Vegemite Enclave
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Post by Lord Sinistra on Mar 8, 2014 12:11:46 GMT -8
"What do I need to do? All my stuff is in my apartment. I have no clothes, no money and no where to go." She cried again, the last of her makeup washed away from her pale, perfect skin. The imperfections of skin tone only affected the living and now she carried a uniform pallor of ashenness. But those blue eyes were made all the more striking by her paleness. After the tears emptied the last of her emotions out of her eyes, her shoulders slumped defeated in the chair. A wasteland of used tissues spread out from her bare feet, dirty from the floor. There wasn't a clean spot on her from head to toe and she just wanted something to feel normal.
"Are they going to get the vampire? The one who killed me?" With everything else in turmoil, she latched on to justice. The police were there, saw her body. It wasn't a pleasant way to go, she was sure. Sadly, the light of day did nothing to jog her memory of her murder. She was at a large party, she was pulled into the library for a glass of champange then she woke up in a body bag across town. She didn't even know if it was the day after or how long she had been dead up there.
She pulled her purse off the table into her lap and opened it up, a slight gasp escaping her lips. Her cash was in it, some lipstick, condoms and breath mints. Her driver's license, credit cards, cellphone and keys were gone. She looked up at him, an accusatory look in her eyes although realisitically she knew he probably had nothing to do with the missing items. As it would come up time and again for the next few days, she was dead now and certain things had to go along with the cover story of her body that would be unclaimed from the morgue and cremated. Her ID, charge cards and the rest were evidence in a murder case. She was truly cut off from the life she used to live. "Nick, you have to help me."
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Post by Deleted on Mar 8, 2014 12:54:57 GMT -8
God save me from crying women. I can't stand kids, which is why I never had any, but a woman in distress brings out my inner crusader. Storm the castle and rescue the princess, never mind that my broke ass can't afford armor. I swear, if that part of me ever broke loose, its first words would be "It's me, Marrrioo."
"I've got clothes here that should fit you for now, and in a few days, I have some friends that can work on getting your stuff."
Friends. Right. Vultures, more like. You can get anything in this town for the right price, but if the rest of her stuff is as nice as that dress was before the blood, it's gonna eat up a lot of cash. Maybe I should become a plumber on the side. I hear they make some serious bank.
"As for the rest, I can get you just about anything you want. New identity, place to stay, even work, depending on what you are. There will be strings attached. Most of the underground owes me favors for one thing or another, but that won't do more than get you in the door. You'll have to make your own arrangements from there. As for justice..."
I shrugged.
"There's precious little of that in this town. The vampires own this city. Cops can't touch them. I'm not saying it can't be done, just that it won't be easy. None of the fixers will touch you if they think you're out to shake things up. You'll be stuck here working with a one-eyed PI, because I'm about the only one crazy enough to do it."
I've made that offer before. No one ever accepts. I know I'm a bit unhinged, and any kind of empath can pick up on it quick. There's a big glowing ball of hatred down in my gut, reserved especially for those bloodsucking bastards. If she's smart, she'll take the easy route. The undead are tailor made to run this world. In ten, fifteen years and with a little work and the right connections, she'd be able to buy out this entire block and still have plenty left over.
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Lord Sinistra
Retired High Councilor
VE Human Capital Management & Talent Acquisition
Posts: 1,474
Affiliation: The Vegemite Enclave
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Post by Lord Sinistra on Mar 8, 2014 14:24:25 GMT -8
"I doubt the work I did before this will help me at all." She pulled out the cash and counted through it. She had a couple hundred bucks, it would at least get her some new clothes and some toiletries. She held out a couple twenties to him, a bracing breath as she picked up the pieces of herself and tried to be brave. She asked that he just go get her some simple things from a nearby store; deodorant, mousse, a brush, toothpaste and toothbrush and some second hand clothes if there was a good place. Nothing fancy, just some flats in a 7 and a pair of jeans, size 8 tall.
With him gone, she shuffled herself into what passed for a bathroom, shuddering at the mess. Nothing in the apartment looked like it had ever seen a good cleaning. The tub was gross, a film of mold and soap scum clinging to the sides of the biege basin. The sink was full of residue from shaving and dried flecks of spittle and toothpaste on the faucet. She was carrying what was a clean towel he managed to fish out of a landry basket. She couldn't get over the filth of her surrounding so the towel was forgotten while snooped around for something to clean with. An old undershirt and a bottle of bathroon cleaner later, she was not afraid to touch anything in the small room for fear of disease.
She stepped into the shower to let the blood run off her cold skin. The heat of the water never turned her skin pink but the water at her feet was while she washed all the blood out of her hair and off her body. The dress she had been wearing was ruined, in a heap on the floor, the blood making her more and more angry. Not even a day into being dead and she was angry about the circumstances she had only just learned of. No justice for her death? Nothing for the life that was stolen from her? No. This would not do. She had worked too hard and too long doing detestable things to get herself out of the poverty she was born into.
She heard him come back after a while with the things she asked for, laying them outside the bathroom so she could dress. She already had one of his white tankshirts and a button down shirt. Light blue and not as stained as some of his others. The jeans and shoes were almost a perfect fit, and all in all, she looked like a very pale version of herself, one that had been sick. The lipstick gave her a little color on her lips when she blotted a bit of it off. She was brushing her teeth when she noticed that the fangs looked like they were shrinking, still sharp and still visible but no longer sticking down below the rest of her upper teeth. Something else to ask him. Her hair dry and styled, long and straight, she finally left the comfort of the freshly cleaned bathroom, a little more put together although still not feeling great about everything.
He was in the kitchen, smoking curling around his head again when she drew his attention with a clearing of her throat. There was a fear in her eyes and uncertainty in her voice. "Nick. I'm hungry."
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Post by Deleted on Mar 8, 2014 14:43:02 GMT -8
I could smell the chemical odor of detergent as I walked through the door. Not really surprised. The place was a mess, less because of intentional neglect and more because there's never any time to clean. Wake up, shower, get dressed, go to work. Come back at some ungodly hour, pass out for maybe two or three, rinse and repeat. This is the longest I've spent here in months.
It was hard not to shake my head in disbelief as she walked out of the bathroom. Wearing secondhand clothes and up all night and she was still a vision. Christ on a crutch.
"That's to be expected. Problem is, until we know what you are, we have no idea how to feed you. You're no longer human, so regular food won't do the trick. Did you have any particular talents back before all this? Maybe music or something?"
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Lord Sinistra
Retired High Councilor
VE Human Capital Management & Talent Acquisition
Posts: 1,474
Affiliation: The Vegemite Enclave
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Post by Lord Sinistra on Mar 8, 2014 15:22:58 GMT -8
"I'm really good at reading people and knowing how they feel. It helped me to put people at ease and schmooze crowds at social gatherings." She sighed heavily before she continued, lest he think she was a event coordinator or something nice. "I was an escort, Nick. A high priced whore."
She leaned on the door frame leading into the kitchen, hugging her arms tightly to her chest. Vulnerable didn't come close to what she was feeling but she was more than just a pretty face and a good lay. She planned and scrimped and did whatever she needed to do to survive. She'd done it to get out of West Virginia, she'd do it to get out of South Chicago.
"I had quite a bit of money saved up. Is there anyway you can pose as a relative and get it for me? It might go a ways to helping us both out." There was the ghost of a smile as she looked around the apartment. Getting a little jab at him, made her feel almost human again. She didn't care for him repeatedly telling her she wasn't anymore. To hell with that. She was human, she was just dead now. "So based on being really likeable and fucking my way up a social ladder, what do you think I am?"
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Post by Deleted on Mar 8, 2014 17:59:22 GMT -8
That narrowed things down a bit.
"Chances are, you'll be an empath in one form or another. Basically, that means you'll feed off emotion. Due to your, um, profession, I'd say there's a chance you're a succubus, but, not to put too fine a point on it, you're within twenty feet and I'm not overcome with supernatural lust."
Plenty of the normal kind, but I can keep that under control. Besides, no sleep and the fresh memories of seeing her pretty little throat laid open are turnoffs.
"A shade, maybe? They can feed off any sufficiently strong emotion, sort of like a psychic omnivore. You wouldn't be able to influence the thoughts of those around you, but you'd pick up on them. And naturally, you'll like certain 'flavors' more than others."
If that was the case, she'd be in luck. There were any manner of jobs she could get, and she wouldn't have to put out to make money. Since that was pretty much all a succubus could look forward to, they're treated like dirt in the underground.
"We'll worry about the money later. It won't be that hard to get to, all things considered, but you've got to learn how to feed first or you won't survive more than a day or so."
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Lord Sinistra
Retired High Councilor
VE Human Capital Management & Talent Acquisition
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Affiliation: The Vegemite Enclave
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Post by Lord Sinistra on Mar 8, 2014 20:56:35 GMT -8
"It's 9 am, and I don't know what day it is, or how long I was dead. You're gonna have to help me out here. How do shades even feed? My fangs shrank." As if to demonstrate to him that she really wasn't a threat anymore, she reached up and curled back her lip, baring one fang for him to see the sharp but normally sized canine in place with the other oddly pearly white teeth. Retreating back to one of the chairs she had been sitting in earlier, she sat down heavily, looking at the muted pink nail polish that she had just gotten done for the party.
"Can I go outside or will I catch fire?" She felt silly asking the question but she was completely ignorant of the nuances of being undead in the big city. A few hours ago she wouldn't have believed that anything like this was real, but with a bloodstained dress and missing teeth in the trash can behind her, everything was very real. Perhaps a little too real. He looked like hell from staying up all night with a would be vampire to make sure he didn't become her first dinner.
"Nevermind, you look like you need sleep. Why don't you get some rest? I can wait. You've been nothing but patient with me. It's my turn." She shooed him down the hall towards the bedroom in the back, the curtains drawn against the world outside. She cleared sat down on his ancient looking sofa and turned on the tv, watching the daytime talk shows until she dozed off. She dreamt of nothing in particular, the blackness of sleep claiming her for a couple hours.
By the time he had woken back up, she was in the kitchen with a fresh pot of coffee made for him, the coffee pot scrubbed sparkling clean. His dishes had been done, the kitchen cleaned and the floors swept. She poured him a cup of joe, setting it on the table near the ashtray and cigarettes he had left on the table.
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Post by Deleted on Mar 8, 2014 21:57:35 GMT -8
I was too tired to object. Barely managed to mutter that sunlight was fine before plopping down in bed like a sack of potatoes. I don't even remember getting undressed, but it must have happened, because I woke up without clothes. Heh. Stranger things have happened.
It had to be late afternoon by the time I resurfaced from my coma. Managed to stagger into a suspiciously clean bathroom, take a shower without feeling dirtier than when I went in, brush my teeth without having to fumble around for the toothbrush, and get dressed without having to dig around for clean clothes before I even remembered what had happened last night.
"Holy shit."
The kitchen was clean, and not just my version of it.
"Kate, this is...wow. I don't know what to say."
I sat down in the chair, and tasted the coffee. It had been so long since I had a clean cup, much less a clean coffee pot, that I had forgotten it could be enjoyed, not just endured. Why can't all undead be this grateful? I couldn't help it, I just sat there for a minute, drinking in the sight of a clean kitchen, and yes, the coffee.
"You sure you're the one that died last night? Because I'm pretty sure this is heaven."
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Lord Sinistra
Retired High Councilor
VE Human Capital Management & Talent Acquisition
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Affiliation: The Vegemite Enclave
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Post by Lord Sinistra on Mar 8, 2014 22:49:36 GMT -8
He seemed genuinely happy and surprised by the cleaning she had done around his place. It wasn't perfect but the straightening up had made the apartment look much better and gone a long way to helping her feel at ease. It was something to occupy her mind. Cleaned up, he wasn't half bad either. Not one of her dates but he looked much better than he had the previous night. It hit her sitting at his kitchen tablenow how scared he must have been last night and what a risk he had taken in bringing her here. There was a good chance she could have killed him but he had agreed to help her into her new unlife or to end her once and for all if she couldn't control her hunger.
If there was a thought that kept repeating to her while she cleaned his place, it was that there was no justice for her because the thing that killed her runs the town, owns the cops and calls the shots. It wasn't fair, it damn sure wasn't right and the more the little rodent chewed around her brain, the more she gave into the vitriol it was spreading. Someone had to make the asshole pay. Whoever he was. And Nick had offered.
"About last night," she began as innocently as she could, "you said that if the fixers think I'm going to shake things up, they won't come near me and I'd be stuck with a one-eyed PI. I can't have been the only girl found like this around town. You keep talking about the underworld and how there are people like me in it. It isn't right. Someone has to stop them, and you're gonna help me."
She smiled with a determined grin, holding her hand out to him, palm out. Ever since he had come out of the bathroom and seen the rest of his place, she had an urge she couldn't explain to touch his hand. His joy perked her up, like a whiff of something appealing. "Katelyn Sutton. Do I get that last name yet?"
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Deleted
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Post by Deleted on Mar 8, 2014 23:20:43 GMT -8
"Miss Sutton, you are full of surprises," I said, half in awe, half in disbelief. "I have, in the last three years, pulled one hundred and thirty seven boys and girls just like you out of body bags, and of the ninety-four that survived the night, you are the first to ever take me up on that offer."
It's not a surprise, really. The more aggressive ones tend to give into the bloodlust. It is the meek that inherit this world, and the meek usually don't have the guts to contemplate things like revenge.
I wanted to take her acceptance of my offer at face value. Kate had a fire in her belly, and discipline to boot. If she really was a shade, she'd be one hell of an ally.
But.
There's always a but. I didn't survive this long taking on things that could throw me through a building or kill me with a thought by being careless, and in my case, careful means paranoid.
What if she was too good to be true?
It was a scary thought. One of the big reasons I haven't been smacked down is because the big vamps don't see me as a threat. Most of them are at least vaguely aware that someone cleans up after them, and since they own the police, they don't care that I know where to find the bodies. I was about to say "where the bodies are buried," but burying most any undead is just going to piss them off.
Anyway, it stands to reason that one of them might set a trap, and even the most cursory research will point to my Achilles heel. Kate was pretty much the perfect bait.
Even knowing that, there was only one thing to do. I offered her my hand
"Nicholas Polanski, at your service."
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Lord Sinistra
Retired High Councilor
VE Human Capital Management & Talent Acquisition
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Affiliation: The Vegemite Enclave
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Post by Lord Sinistra on Mar 8, 2014 23:41:30 GMT -8
The instant his skin touched hers in that handshake, she knew why she wanted to touch him so bad. It was like being plugged into a light socket, juice flowing in her body and causing her jump and pull away. She jerked her hand back at the sensation, flexing the fingers, while she had gasped at the initial shock. It wasn't strong, felt a little bit like a mild static shock but Nick didn't seem to notice anything off, well of course he did now as she jerked away like a freak, cradling her hand. She looked more than a little frightened as she glanced between her arm and him. "Are you ok? That...it was...it felt like...like someone turned on a power switch in me."
The poor little shade just got her first taste of someone else's joy.
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Post by Deleted on Mar 9, 2014 5:05:35 GMT -8
"Sorry about that," I said with a smile. "Probably should have warned you. At least at first, feeding on a one on one basis is done through touch. If you find a big enough crowd at, say, a sporting event, you can usually sort of skim off energy just by being there."
How they react to that first spark is almost as important as whether or not they try to drink blood. Freely given, feeding off of emotion doesn't cause the source any harm. In fact, I have it from a few sources that empathic feeders of all types can have an overall positive impact on the mental health of the food supply. When they try to take it, however, things get nasty.
I offered my hand out again.
"Generally speaking, the more, uh, intimate the contact gets, the more power you'll pull from it. That being said, for this first feeding, a handshake will do nicely. If you're still hungry, I know a place where you might find someone more suited to your standards later on."
Plus, I could put out feelers, see if there have been any other vamp attacks in the last few weeks that match the MO of the guy that offed you, is what I didn't say. Fun is something that happens to other people, so long as there are bloodsuckers to kill.
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