brightyoungreporter

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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

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."

[debut]

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject