A New Beginning

[shadowhound]

Bakilas sat in a chair cleaning his weapons while waiting for the meeting with Orrick, the human was thrown onto his bed and left there.

[T/-/alali]

OOC:Skye, I didn't know you played dot hack! me too! Thats awesome! Have you ever played the card game? Its called Dot Hack//Enemy. go to www.dothackenemy.com for more explenation!

[ 01-28-2004, 07:30 PM: Message edited by: T/-/alali ]

[Skydracgrrl]

Originally posted by T/-/alali: OOC:Skye, I didn't know you played dot hack! me too! Thats awesome! Have you ever played the card game? Its called Dot Hack//Enemy. go to www.dothackenemy.com for more explenation!

ooc- ... how did you find out that I played .hack? *looks out window to make sure Thalali isn't standing there*

Oh no, a card game?! great, another thing to get addicted to..

[T/-/alali]

OOC: It's in your profile [img]tongue.gif[/img] But the card game is great!

[mistral4543]

Mistral

She stifled a gasp as she found herself smashing into the rather hard mattress of an odd-smelling bed, her limbs hanging loosely by the sides of the bed ~ Peace, at last. ~ But that was likely to be a hope rather than reality, so accustomed was she now to having horrific events hunting her down every few minutes or so.

Calm yourself down, woman. ~ Scolding herself silently ~ You have got to get a grip of yourself, even if you're scared out of your pants. You have no choice. ~ Slowly, she lifted her arms, placed them by her upper torso and flipped herself over so that she could now see the ceiling ~ Don't look at him until you're ready... and remember, you're supposed to know something the vampire leader is after. Think... think, damn it! ~ Yet the stale air threatened to choke her, and she had to will herself to ignore all the various discomforts assaulting her.

If this recent spate of events did not toughen her an ounce, she doubted any other in the future ever would...

[Morgeruat]

The meeting gathered together, the break-in was noted and security said they would look through the security camera records for anything unusual in his room, but in a casino this size the money could easily dispurse, but they were going to refund the cost of your visit as well as provide transportation to anywhere youhad to travel to while you stayed.

Orrick was also very interested in the break-in, and promised to personally look in on it. He assembled the vampires that went to his private room for the afteraction review. Grinning he had informed them of a terrible vanadlism that had occured at the mansion shortly after they had escaped, it seems a group of gang emmbers had decided to torch the place, and had taken out all the inhabitants with their sub-machine guns as they tried to flee the burning building. He was quite interested in the human locked in Bakilas's room, and revealed to the assembled vampires part of a diary his sources had found.

ooc: that will be my next post, sorry for taking too long in getting back to this thread.

[Morgeruat]

We are what our situations hand us; it’s either sadness or euphoria.

I haven’t left my car for more than a minute in the last four days. I eat from drive through windows. I piss at gas stations. I sleep in parking lots, usually in front of 24-hour grocery stores.

Some kind of life I’ve hacked out, isn’t it.

“I believe there is a time for meditation in cathedrals of our own.”

I love this song. I wish I could turn it up, but then the lyrics might change. I don’t think I’ll be sitting here too long anyway – just until her fare gets his bags into the cab.

I feel like a stalker. I glance up into the rearview mirror. My beard’s grown out patchy and uneven. My eyes are red rimmed and baggy. My Hair’s shaggy. I normally buzz it, but there hasn’t been time.

Over the last few weeks, I’ve come to know this city pretty well. Ever want to know the best shortcuts, the scenic routes, the back roads that no one ever takes. Of course, I’m not using her as a tour guide. I’m using her as a rabbit.

I’ve always been comfortable in a car. When I was a kid my father made a run between Cleveland and Toledo every weekend, visiting relatives. He took me along for company. The first thing he’d do when we pulled onto I-80 was find a “rabbit” – some dude cruising at 70 or so, preferably in a red car. Dad would tail him, figuring that the cops would pull over the other guy first, and we’d just drop down to 55 and keep on truckin’. Most of the time, it worked. Dad got busted on occasion, but he always laughed it off. Dad liked to laugh.

The cabbie pulls away from the curb and I follow after a minute. Watching her taillights and hoping she won’t notice me. She makes a right. I know where she’s going – the airport. I lag back. I can take my time, take a different route, and at least that way I don’t have to worry about her noticing me. She might recognize me, after all. She saved my life that night at the club. If she hadn’t noticed me after four days, though, I’d be very surprised. Maybe she’s called the police on me? No, they’d have picked me up. More likely she assumes I’m one of them, and she’s trying to figure out what to do. I really wish I could get out and talk to her, but if she knew she was marked, I’m pretty sure she’d go to ground. I can’t force her hand – or theirs.

They don’t respond well to being pushed. I found that out two months ago. I actually confronted one of them. It wasn’t intentional. I just got angry. The noise subsided and I’d gone the whole day without a nosebleed, so I decided to treat myself, go to a club, have a drink, blah blah blah. I went to a club I’d been going to for years. The illusion of security, right? I knew everything pre-Visitation was an illusion, but somehow this club I had always gone to was sacrosanct. That turned out to be bullshit.

When I walked into the place, I thought the music sounded weird. It wasn’t a song I knew, though, so I paid it no mind. It wasn’t until I sat down and started a drink that the lyrics started coming clear – “YOU’VE COME HOME TO DEATH” and other cheerful thoughts. And then the throbbing behind my eyes, as it walked to the bar from the men’s room, wiping it’s mouth for Pete’s sake. It sat down next to me and the pain got worse. I didn’t even know I was bleeding until the bartender handed me a napkin and asked if I was all right. I think I muttered something about allergies.

I was sitting there, next to it at the bar, dabbing at my nose with a napkin. I’d had nosebleeds around them before, and around some other folks that I guess were like me, folks called listeners. But it had never been this bad. The guy was eyeing my the whole time, and I finally figured out that he wasn’t watching me. He was watching the blood.

I felt sick. How the hell should I feel? How does a mouse feel when a cat sizes it up? I tried to get up enough courage to walk away, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t shake the feeling that the guy would get up and bite me, even though I knew that was ridiculous. They liked secrecy. The more people scoff at the existence of vampires, the more people they can feed on. I sat there at the bar thinking about that, thinking that a year ago this guy might have started up a conversation. Chatted me up. Played me at a game of darts. And then, just when I felt like I had a friend, he’d sink his fangs in and I’d be gone.

Normally, when I think about stuff like that I start to hyperventilate and end up passing out. But this time, I just got angry. I turned to the guy and held out the napkin. I actually fought through the pain and blood enough to speak.

“What? Is this what you want?” The thing got up and staggered back. I took it by surprise, I think. I should have run, but I pressed it. “Still thirsty? I know what you do. I know-“ I think I meant to finish that sentence with “what you are,” but I couldn’t, because it slugged me. I’m not in the best of shape on a normal day, and with my nose gushing blood and one of them in my face, I’m near useless.

I pull into a gas station and park. I get out to stretch my legs. If the cabbie follows her pattern, she’ll swing back to her own neighborhood after she umps her fare. She’s been driving all night, and she looked pretty wiped when she picked up that last guy. If they’re going after her tonight, it’ll be when she gets home, right before sunrise right when she starts to feel safe.

They do that. Wait until you’re someplace that you’ve been all your life, that you think of as “home.” Then they watch you. It isn’t enough to just kill you, because they’re such paranoid f---ers. Instead, they have to know everything about you – and your family. I’ve got ‘em beat, though. I don’t have anybody they can use. But the cabbie – she’s got family and friends. I’ve been watching her, after all. I know she’s got a younger sister named Mona, and from the conversations she’s had, I think her father’s still alive. I don’t know how she feels about the other listeners she’s met, but I get a sense that most of them are pissed off over the truth. The ones that go out and hunt. Not like me, I’m more of an observer.

Shit, call a spade a spade. I’m more like a voyeur. But it isn’t because of any sick thrill. The last time I tried anything, I actually flushed out the cabbie and her friends. I’m probably the reason that thing at the club got away.

It hit me in the stomach and I doubled over. My nose was bleeding like a damn faucet, and I thought it had ruptured something when it punched me. The noise in my head made fighting back impossible. The music cut off suddenly, and I heard people running around, fighting, screaming. I honestly thought I was going to die, and I knew I had made a serious mistake in taunting the thing. They like you to be silent, you know? When someone calls them out, they panic and it gets all loud for a while. When the noise in my head had doubled and then quadrupled, I thought the thing had friends. Turns out it was the cabbie and her friends.

She pulled me towards her cab. I was struggling to get away - she must have thought I was panicking. Really, I was trying to escape the pain. She shoved me into the back seat and ran around to the drivers side. She probably meant to take me to the hospital. But outside the club, I was far enough away that my nose had stopped bleeding and I could think straight. So I opened the door again and ran to my own car. I doubt she got much of a look at me. But I remember her. I remember everything.

I get back into my car and turn up the music a notch. It’s Billy Joel’s first live album. For some reason it’s lyrics are the least likely to give me messages. I don’t know why. I start heading toward the bridge. If she follows her usual routine - a really bad idea, I think – she’ll cross the bridge and then I’ll tail her home. If they want to hit her tonight it’ll be a few hours.

I sit in a parking lot next to the bridge and think about vampires. It’s funny how nobody wants to say that word. I can zone out and listen to conversations a block away – even see what’s happening – but the cabbie and her friends tend to say “rots” or “bloodsuckers.” Seems to like the horror is… diminished somehow if you call them by their name. Secrecy’s been such an edge for God knows how long. I wonder what they do besides prey on us. They’re obviously organized. Otherwise, killing one wouldn’t result in reprisals (which it definitely has in the cabbies case). Do they have grand balls, all dressed in Victorian clothes or three piece suits? Do they live like animals in dirty parts of the cities? So many superstitions filter up from the ghetto. Is there a reason for that?

I start to hyperventilate before I realize it. My breath catches in my throat. I reach to the back seat for my paper bag, but I can’t quite get it. I start to see stars. The music slows down and seems far away. I’m going to black out.

Just before I do, I see the cab come over the bridge. Billy Joel is singing, “She’s got a way about her,” but as my head slumps on the steering wheel it sounds like, “SHE’S GOING TO LIVE AN HOUR.”

[Morgeruat]

ooc the story is from a book called Nocturn by White Wolf Publishing, I do not pretend that the story is mine and give them full credit for it, but it illustrates perfectly the mood and setting that you are living in (from the hunted's point of view)

[T/-/alali]

OOC: I'll probably be out until the end of Febuary, I've got to concentrate on my grades now that wrestling season is over. I might get a little time to reply, but not much.

[shadowhound]

"Well thats all very well and good but can you get the damn mortal out of my room? I swear if she stays there anylonger I will feed from her. Also why am I still here, I agreed to check out the mansion and have done so. Unless I am here to be paid I am not happy."