brightyoungreporter

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neil

[debut]

Wearing a brand new pair of headphones around his neck, hot living blood pumping through him, Daniel feels fucking great. Talking to Louis remains an exercise in fond futility, buoyed by the cool trick of being able to do it with his mind. But the fondness sticks in his chest even as he scowls at the new headphones, somewhat irritated at the lack of a cord. He’s already got vampire bluetooth in his head; would the security of being able to plug something into something else be so much to ask?

It’s a habit of Armand’s, to keep something nice, and knowing that’s why he’s doing it doesn’t ease any of the irritation. Remembering Armand strolling back in from his meal in a pair of, as the kids are calling it, cunty sunglasses, only to find the tables have fucking turned?

That makes him feel better.

He tosses the glasses into the same river he dumped the body, about half a mile away. The night’s plenty young, and now that he’s been spited with the gift of renewed mobility, Daniel intends to explore the city.

There’s a dive bar in the warehouse district, he’d read, that offers an opportunity to people watch. Feels like old times, or it would if he could actually find it. “Seems like an internal compass should come standard,” he calls up into the night, just in case his maker is skulking around on a conveniently placed catwalk.

…wait.

He’s really fucking lost.

It’s not a question of direction, it’s a question of location. It’s a question of time and fucking space, because this is a different city. He can hear the ocean; it’s got to be a different state, a different country.

“Louis? Hey, Louis de Pointe du Lac?” Nothing. He’s not sure he’s even doing it right.

He grits his teeth. “Armand?”

By the time Daniel finds himself staring at an unfamiliar coast from an unfamiliar boardwalk, he’s become increasingly convinced something is deeply fucking amiss.

He pulls off the sunglasses for a better look, regardless of whether that’s applicable anymore. A pleasant summer night, a few people here and there, their thoughts containing the usual patter and rhythms.

“Fucking great,” he says. “That’s fucking great. Armand, if this is some kind of test, I’m. I’m fucking telling on you.”

Ah, that’s him. The great Vampire Daniel Molloy.

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There was some guy ranting to himself on the boardwalk. Not exactly a strange sight. Old men ranted to themselves all the time, especially this time of night.

Restless, I'd slipped out of the house to take a walk, crossing the short distance from the house to the boardwalk, still hobbling slightly on a cane. Might be for a good long while.

I'd taken up residence on a bench and pulled out the vape I'd reluctantly traded my usual joints for. Cleaner, less maintenance, but something about sucking on a little plastic pen still felt fake or something.

But now there was an old man ranting to himself to occupy my attention. Pen lighting up at the end as I took a hit from it, I leaned back, one arm flung casually across the back of the bench.

"Who the fuck is Armand?"

Edited 2024-07-21 20:19 (UTC)

Huh, Daniel thinks, turning to the source of the voice. So he did say that one out loud. Why does it surprise him so much that he's getting questions from the vaping peanut gallery?

"Armand is an asshole," he says. "And he's about the only one I could imagine pulling off something like this in terms of skill and desire to fuck with my head."

It might be wishful thinking. Really sad wishful thinking.

"Because I took a walk from the television studio to the river, had a nice dinner, and was walking down to the warehouse district when I apparently took a wrong turn into wherever the fuck this is."

"It wasn't him," I said, with a huff of laughter. "Or, if it was, you're the first one of us to figure out how the fuck we got here."

I took another hit, then slipped the pen back into my pocket.

I sat forward, elbows on my knees. His eyes were strange. Too pale, too cat-like, save for the pupils.

"You're in a place called Darrow. Where exactly that is, I couldn't tell you. It snatches you up, from where ever you were, and hangs on as long as it wants."

I knew how fucking crazy that sounded, but there wasn't really any other way to explain it.

I smirked faintly. "Hope you didn't have anywhere important to be."

Daniel mutters under his breath, "Yeah, yeah, I'm sure he couldn't prevent it, either."

The-- well, his first instinct is to call him a kid, and the vape pen does nothing to dissuade the notion-- the kid might be fucking with him. Honestly, that makes the most sense.

Or he'd like it to make the most sense.

But the thing about his fancy upgraded senses is that they're screaming about unfamiliar smells and sounds and the wrong skyline looming ahead. They're ready to confirm at least part of what this kid is saying.

"Darrow," he repeats. "Okay. I'll work with that, for the time being. Is this some multiverse shit? Is that where you're going with this? And who are you, do you work for this place?"

I laughed.

"Jesus. No, I don't. I'm just the unlucky bastard who happened to be here. I've lost count how many times I've had to explain this shit, and it always fuckin' sucks."

At least this one wasn't bleeding. Or pointing a gun at my face.

"I've heard people call it a pocket universe. Whether that's true or not, I don't have the first clue. I'm not a fuckin' physicist."

God, wouldn't it be easier if he knew the kid was lying? If he could use the mind gift to identify the kid as some multiverse kind of Walmart greeter?

"Yeah, you're telling the truth," Daniel sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Great. Okay." And now he feels like a little bit like an asshole, what's new there, as he takes another look around at it all.

"At least I've got the voice of experience to guide me, right?" He heads to the bench and sits down. "Daniel Molloy," he says, offering his hand, supposing at the last second he should be clipping his nails better.

"Yeah, sure," I said, huffing a laugh. I was surprised, a little, when he sat down. More surprised to get a look at his hands, which were normal, save for the bizarre fingernails, which were thick and pointed, like claws. His hand was smooth, smoother than you would've expected from someone his age, and slightly cool to the touch. Strange. Unsettling, maybe, but it only made me more curious.

"Neil," I said, feeling the sharp edge of one of those nails as I let my hand slip from his. "McCormick."

"Good to meet you, Neil," Daniel says, finding that he genuinely means it. There's an easy honesty about Neil that's, quite frankly, a bit of a relief, when compared to vampires, publishers, and talk show hosts. "I mean, I get the feeling I'm fucked here, but it's good to meet you."

He can work with this. Sure.

"What time is it? Since you've been so obliging, I have other questions I want to ask, but I've got an unusual time crunch regarding sunrise."

A motel bathroom without windows would probably work, or a nice abandoned basement. The need for planning, at least, nicely counteracts the panic of coming up against something even more insane than vampires.

I pulled my phone out, tilting the screen his way. Just before three. He mentioned sunrise and I huffed a laugh, scrubbing a tired hand across my face. I wasn't afraid, just... exhausted. If he wanted to kill me, I figured he wouldn't have a difficult job.

"Jesus. Okay, so. Everybody here gets a place to stay. Like a starter apartment. A little cash. It's... eerie as shit, but you've gotta roll with it, if you don't want to end up sleeping on the fucking street."

I stood, gripping my cane in one hand. I drew in a breath, blew it out. "Or in some sealed fuckin' box somewhere, right? Outta the sunlight." I arched a brow, challenging him to deny it. Stupid. I didn't care.

Since his turning, or being made, Daniel has definitely killed people, drained people, all of that. He likes to choose assholes, even if he's aware he's also an asshole.

Asshole on asshole crime.

It should bother him a hell of a lot more than it does, but Daniel's packing a lot more memories after his time in Dubai that suggest maybe he wasn't going to struggle with it in the way, say, Louis had.

There's a few different reasons not to eat Neil, the least of these being that he's not hungry. Another is stubborn refusal to fall into the hedonism of eating beautiful young people.

At this moment, though, Neil is so much more than a snack. He's information.

"Yeah," Daniel says, because Neil's not lying. "Okay, if it keeps me off the street, I'm all for the social programs of this fine city." He watches Neil stand, catching on a moment later. "Out of the sunlight," he agrees. "A sealed box would be safest, but an interior room would work. No windows."

He stays put on the bench, trying to give off I'm not gonna eat you vibes.

"We'll find a closet to shove you in, in a pinch," I said, one corner of my mouth upturned.

He didn't seem shocked that I knew what he was. I didn't know if that was down to just one more bit of strangeness, for the day, or if he came from a place where vampires roamed around in the open, like they did here.

I took a step back, jerking my head towards the train station. "You comin' or not?"

Edited 2024-07-24 14:51 (UTC)

Even knowing that he's the fucking mind reader, Daniel still has a hot-cold prickling moment when Neil mentions a closet.

No thanks, I've had enough of those.

But along that road lies a whole lot of shit Daniel's trying to repress. He's not in a closet, he's just repressed, and there's no one here who could tell anyone differently.

"Yeah," he says, not hiding his surprise as he gets up. "Lead the way. I might be new to it, but I know I don't want to get caught outside in broad daylight."

"'Cause of your sun allergy," I said dryly, cutting him a sideways look, my cane clicking along the boardwalk slats. It was mildly annoying that some guy who looked to be in his fucking seventies could move around more easily than I could.

I was wary, but still not afraid. The boardwalk was nearly deserted, and if he wanted to kill me, there wasn't much chance of outrunning him, but I just... didn't seem to have it in me to get all fucking worked up about it.

Edited 2024-07-25 03:01 (UTC)

"Yeah," Daniel agrees. "Terrible allergy. Like that made for TV movie about the kids who couldn't go outside."

He meanders alongside Neil, and if it isn't his joints that are grateful for a slower pace these days, he's glad for the chance to really look around. If it's some fucked up shit from Armand or the Talamasca, it's good.

"I'm pretty iron deficient too," he adds, glancing over at Neil, monitoring the response, seeing what will hold and what will bring the word out into the open air. Maybe it's all normal here, and no one gives a shit.

Barking out a laugh at that, I said, "Just don't try and get it from me, right now. I'm not in the mood for that shit."

I was trusting him, because I didn't have any other choice.

"My best friend was a werewolf," I explained, after a beat. "He's been gone a while, and I think he might've been the last of 'em, but vampires... Other shit. You get used to it here."

Edited 2024-07-25 14:12 (UTC)

"I ate before I left," Daniel says. "Besides, you're showing me around, helping me find my accommodations. I wouldn't want to bite the hand that feeds me."

He attempts to keep a polite distance from Neil's thoughts, an easy enough thing to do when more information gets offered up.

"A werewolf. I didn't really think to ask about other supernatural creatures when I had the chance." Louis wouldn't have known, and Armand would never have admitted it. "There a lot of other shit here?"

Rolling my eyes, I snorted a laugh. Guess being a vampire didn't make a guy immune to telling lame jokes.

At his question, I drew in a breath. "If I start making a list, it's going to sound... crazy isn't even the right word for it. Ridiculous, maybe? It's like the universe took all the weird shit it could come up with, put it in a bag, and shook it real hard. I mean, on the surface, it's just a city. I live my fuckin' life, you'll live yours, but sometimes we get chased by giant bees, or it drops six feet of snow on us for two months in the summer."

And that was the milder shit. Honestly, I didn't want to dump too much of it on him at once.

"There's demons, and psychics, and witches. Real ones."

"Well, shit," Daniel says, frankly impressed. "At least it's going to be interesting. Which is good, I wouldn't want to have already hit the limit of weird shit with the whole undead thing."

Later is when he'll freak out about it. Later is when he'll sit in the dark and press the heels of his hands into his eyes and try not to call out.

Part of his skillset is not freaking out in the now.

"Okay. Are they native, or do they come from other places too?"

"Bit of both, I think. There's, I don't know. Maybe fifty-thousand people here. Maybe a little less. Only a tiny little fraction of those are like us. People who know they're not supposed to be here. The rest, you talk to 'em, and they're gonna think all this shit is normal. Half of 'em act like there's nothin' outside the city, and the rest just don't care."

I shrugged.

"I've been here nine years. I know of maybe one other guy who's been here longer."

Easy enough to pick out the ones who don't belong, Daniel thinks, if he cheats. Good old fashioned journalism with the rest, if he's going to make any progress.

He stops himself. Progress with what?

Focus on the moment, secure basic needs.

He can't help an amused, if wry, smile in Neil's direction. "You're a hell of a tour guide. And there's no rhyme or reason about any of this, huh? I mean, some very small part of me has concerns my maker is fucking with me, putting me in his version of a maze for lab rats. But it's... it's pretty solid. Where are we headed now?"

"Maybe he is. Maybe you'll finally be the one to figure out what the fuck this place is, while the rest of us don't know shit."

One corner of my mouth twitched into a smirk.

"But he sounds like a real dick."

At his question, I gestured up ahead, where you could just see the station behind a few taller buildings. "Train station. You can pick up your welcome packet there. It'll get you goin' for the next little while."

"Yeah, he is." Daniel would rather walk into the sun that explain any of the irritated wistfulness he can hear in his own voice.

Better to focus on now.

"That's very on the nose," he says. "But all things considered, I'm glad for it. I'm sure I don't have to tell you how creepy a welcome packet sounds. Will there be drink tickets? A wristband?"

"Uh huh."

That was a story I wanted to hear more of, but for now, I just smirked at him.

"Three free sips from your welcome guide? No, no drink tickets." Even with the cane, I managed to turn on my heels, walking backwards a few steps and flashing him a grin. "I'm hobblin' through the dark with hot grandpa vampire, and you think the welcome packet's the creepy part?"

It was definitely creepy, but that didn't mean I couldn't give this guy a little bit of shit.

Okay, definitely another point against his asshole maker for not giving him any hints on how to deal with that kind of teasing. Feeding's one thing. He does it to assholes who are going to be dead soon and won't be missed.

Jesus, what was it called, the little drink.

"It's the creepiest part to me," he says. "Although this could be an act. Maybe you're the apex predator around here. And here I am, a mere fledgling, in a new territory."

"Yeah, could be," I agreed, smile softening as I turned again to face ahead, only a couple blocks now from the station.

"It's a little cash. Keys to your new place. A map. ID. That sort of shit," I explained, lifting one shoulder in a shrug. "It's creepy, yeah. Can't really get around that."

"They really think of everything," Daniel drawls, pushing his mind to be anywhere but circling the idea of blood given up freely. "Do they have us all in some sort of hostage housing units?"

In a city this size, there's a good chance he's going to be able to pick up some duct tape and garbage bags to secure the windows. Not that different than the first shaky days back in his own apartment.

A thousand more questions squat in his head, but the name of the game is repression-- for the moment.

"Apartments. Little starter places. Still better than the shithole I stayed outta highschool," I said, with a huff of laughter. It was a low bar. "You don't have to stay there. I've been... All over. Lived in a place downtown for a while. And another further midtown. Now I'm up the coast."

I hadn't actually been to the train station since the accident. I'd avoided the trains all together, actually. Even though the accident happened outside the city, there was something about it that just unnerved me. But as we approached it, I was relieved to find that I didn't have the uncontrollable urge to turn tail and run.

At this time of night, there was only one set of doors unlocked. A night attendant barely looked up from his phone as we went inside.

"I think as long as I don't end up in crypt somewhere, I'm good."

One of the top lessons taken from the penthouse in Dubai: anywhere can be a tomb, with a little effort. A shitty apartment appeals more than most of his options.

"But I'll keep that in mind." Some sort of relief comes off of Neil and at first, Daniel's almost disappointed that it might be related to no longer needing to play guide. A moment later, barely ruffling the flow of thought, he gets that it's somehow the train.

"So this is it, huh?" he asks, and waves at the night attendant. "Handing me over to the tender mercies of the city?"

"Shit, man. You tryin' to get rid of me already? I'm hurt," I smirked, but it was beyond late and I probably did need to get back.

Taking a step towards him, I reached out a hand and said, "Here, gimme your phone."

"I know better than to get rid of a good source," Daniel says, smirking right back. "Protecting a source comes right after your own survival, which is what's about to happen here."

He takes his phone back out of his pocket, wondering for a moment if he's going to be able to find a compatible charger in Darrow, and hands it to Neil.

Cutting him an amused smile, I took a quick shot of myself, then added it to his contacts, along with my number. Then I dialed, so I'd have his number, too.

"Call me, when you're ready to interrogate me a little more," I teased him, ending the call and passing him back his phone.

Taking a step back, I gestured to the Information Booth, past the ticket counters and waiting area. "Just give 'em your name. They'll get you squared away."

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