Roleplay City
Administration => Infusco Archives => Archives => Old Roleplays => Topic started by: Trillian on July 26, 2013, 09:25:36 AM
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HE WAS RAKING in a god-damned fortune. The tower of chips in front of him were the highly sought after hot pink chips, that declared their worth at a value of ten thousand dollars each. He had two stacks of twenty chips in front of him. Last time he'd walked out of here with a ten stack of them, and the time before that he'd stalked out with five clutched in his hand. Now he wanted more, more, more, and he knew that he'd be noticed this time (if not the other two times), so this was going to be his last hit.
The last hit on this casino, anyway.
With vivid green eyes and a flop of messy brown curls, Timoteo Calabro was easily identifiable of European heritage, thanks to his olive skin. He had the fine-figured physique of a sculptor's model, with long fingers and a narrow face, high cheekbones and luscious full lips. His eyes were large and made him look the ever-innocent youth, something that he was not. He was canny and sarcastic, a cheat and a liar, and he had a gift he was planning to exploit until his dying day.
Right now he was young, he felt invincible, and he was going to be fucking rich! Except he underestimated the wariness of the managers on the casino floor, and the memory they had of this young man who never seemed to miss when to hit or stick.
"Hit me," he said, and the dealer flipped over the card to reveal an Ace to go along with his King.
"Natural blackjack!" the dealer announced loudly, and that was when a hand clamped on his shoulder and he turned around to a serious expression dressed over a floor manager's outfit.
"Come with me please, sir."
The request was a compelling one.
"My chips!" Timo protested.
"They'll be set aside for you, sir," he was told, and he couldn't really argue because he was being led away into the depths of the hotel. One very lengthy elevator ride later, he was whooshed to a floor that made him feel giddy just thinking about, and was ushered to an office that was bigger than his entire apartment (though such a thing wouldn't be difficult, since his apartment was a studio apartment and felt not much bigger than a closet).
He looked at the stern man on the other side of the desk and looked over his shoulder to see the floor manager disappearing and closing the door behind him, shutting them in together.
"Hey, how's it hanging?" Timo greeted, masking his nervousness with false bravado. He felt under-dressed in a white button-up shirt over jeans and tan hiking boots. To think he'd felt quite smart until facing off against this suited, immaculate, frowny-faced man.
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Vomas didn't like the crude imagery the question brought to mind, so gave no response beyond a deepening of his frown. It brought his thick but by no means unruly eyebrows lower, and drew deeper lines alongside his mouth. He wore the look easily, for he had much practice with it - people were, after all, prone to displeasing him.
"You're very good at blackjack," he said. "Too good to allow you to continue playing here, I'm afraid."
Normally that would be all. The individual suspected of counting cards would collect their winnings and leave the premises, then never return. But no one he'd banned from the casino had been on quite the run this young man had. There had to something more to it than skill with numbers, and he deftly slipped a psychic hand into the lad's thoughts. He waited there, hovering just above what he visualized as the surface of a lake, waiting to see what rushed by in response to his statement.
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"Your underling couldn't tell me that on the casino floor?" Timo puffed his incredulity alongside a smile. He was also fishing for what more lay ahead of him.
He wasn't stupid enough to think he'd be allowed to take his chips and leave. He had been stupid enough not to purposefully miss a few cards, as though he was a regular card-counting shark or something. There had to be another reason why he'd been whisked all the way up here. Were they wanting information about how he knew what the cards were before he could see them?
Very suddenly he thought he saw a shadow hovering over his head and instinctively ducked while looking upward at what the threat was. He couldn't properly see anything, but there was certainly something there, though it remained frustratingly in his peripheral vision. After a few bobs and weaves, he realised he must look ridiculous to the bigwig opposite and straightened himself up. Instinctively, he lifted a hand to swat away the shadow-peripheral thing, and rubbed his neck instead.
Woah, those free alcoholic drinks were some mighty powerful stuff!
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"He could've, but I wanted a chance to speak to you." And dig through his mind for some answers.
His attention was easily divided between the two tasks, and if he hadn't had centuries of experience with it, he might've missed that the other man's movements seemed to coincide with the movements of what should've been an undetectable "hand".
When was the last time someone had sensed his dabbling? Three... four hundred years ago? He'd been a youngling still under the tutelage of his sire, clumsy and too obvious in his attempts. Surely by now he wouldn't be detected except by another his age.
"Card counting isn't an illegal offense, but something more was going on. I'd like an explanation. What were you doing if not counting?" He rested his elbows on the smooth, impossibly shiny surface of his desk and steepled his fingers in front of him. "I'm willing to grant egress along with your winnings for an answer."
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"Was it all you expected and more?" Timo asked, looking around the office yet again. The shadow-thing had fucked off for the time being, but he was concerned about where it might be hiding. Maybe it really was the potency of the drink. He'd thought it for a moment, but it had been a passing fancy, not a true consideration of merit. It unnerved him, that something like that had happened in the first place. It was like looking at the shadow faces on some of the people in this city; the 'there but overlapping' shadows that hurt his eyes if he looked too long. Looking too long tended to piss off the shadow faced people too. Lots of them were hostile. He'd learned not to make eye-contact.
Mr Top Of The Pops was lecturing him about card-counting and unfortunately pointed out that he knew there was more to it. Timo was angry with himself, but he didn't let his irritation show beyond an overly-bright smile. He smiled when he was nervous and he smiled when he was being a smart-ass. Usually the two went hand in hand. The request for the truth was a bribe.
"Are you bribing me with my own winnings?" Timo scoffed, then immediately shook his head and held up a staying hand. "Don't answer that. You caught me. I was counting cards, and I took it too far. You're right, I don't deserve to keep the chips. I'm good. No complaints, right? You can skip the part about not coming back and all that, I won't come back."
And then Timo looked at Vomas. Properly looked at him, like he looked at the backs of the cards, and at the shadow-faced people.
The Grand Poobah of this particular palace, was a Red Man.
Timo puffed surprised laughter and this time he didn't do a good job at hiding the nervousness, so he stopped laughing. Red Men were just as creepy as shadow-faces.
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Vomas smiled, though it did nothing to soften the look in his eyes. "You misunderstand. Until you answer my questions, you will remain here."
He leaned back in his chair and the leather creaked in protest. "What, exactly, is a Red Man? Should I be insulted?"
He'd revealed his hand. Too early, perhaps, but it couldn't be helped. Timo had shown he was only capable of lying and deflecting. It was to protect himself, no doubt, but Vomas needed to discuss the truths of his mind, not dance around the mulberry bush with him.
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Timo's attitude shifted considerably when he realised his mind had been read. He didn't know how to block the other from his thoughts and was also surprised that Mr Boss Man didn't have all the information at once. Was that some sort of self-imposed limitation, that he could 'hear' the Red Man thoughts but didn't understand them? What would happen if Timo pictured all of his knowledge about them (which wasn't really all that much)? He didn't like the idea of his brain being spooned into with groping fingers, but he suddenly understood the relevance of the shadow above his head before. He must've seen the attempt being made, and now he would understand what it was next time it happened.
If he even got to experience a next time, what with this man being a Red Man.
"Your... uh, your kind. I don't know what that is," Timo admitted, his tone respectful. "And I don't need to know. I haven't spilled any of my knowledge to the fodder, and I don't plan on naming names, okay? I can keep my mouth shut. You can look in here and see." He tapped his forehead though shifted his weight, not happy about the idea of his mind being scooped into again. It seemed painless enough - he hadn't even known the first time Red Man had done it, so he could put up with it again if it ensured his freedom.
He had a lot of questions though, floating around in there. What were Red Men? Why did they look like they were made out of a river of blood when he looked at them? He didn't approach their kind, though there seemed to be a lot of them in the city, and sometimes when he wasn't looking intently, they were sometimes friendly and acted quite normally - like any other fodder on the street.
Was that part of their disguise though? He didn't trust them.
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As Timo talked, tightness spawned in Vomas' shoulders and spread to his face. His eyebrows dipped low and he watched the young man before him through narrowed eyes.
Even though Timo denied knowledge of the name he and his kind went by, he could expose one of them if pressed. He could promise to keep his knowledge close all he wanted, but Vomas suspected Timo would cave easily, given the right motivation. Or mind-reader. And there were plenty of those in the city.
"You might be able to keep your mouth shut, but your mind is open." He tapped his forehead, mimicking Timo. "And what's this talk of fodder? Is that supposed to be everyone but you?"
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I've survived this long alright, Timo thought but didn't say. He resented the implication that he would be treated like fodder by the Red Men. They hadn't given him a second glance so far - the only reason why this Boss-Man was even looking at him was because Timo was ripping off the casino. It was unlikely his winnings would even affect the casino's earnings for the night all that much anyway.
He didn't answer the question about fodder. He didn't want to talk about them.
"I've never seen the shadow hand before," Timo announced, trying to hold in his attitude but aware that some of it was seeping out of him, like molasses through tissue paper. "So it doesn't matter how open my mind is when you're the only one who bothered to look."
He didn't know for certain if that meant this High-Dwelling-Dude was extra dangerous because of it. He thought it was.
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"So far," Vomas said. "You haven't been conning the right people."
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Timo didn't want to bait this guy - he felt like he was seriously out of his league, but there was something inside of him that pulled the words out. He was helpless to respond. The desire for self-preservation was muted by his bravado, and his desire to always be the one on top of the conversation.
"If I'd known you were the right people to con, I would've come here sooner."
He regretted it as soon as the words were out of his mouth, but he was too proud to apologise.
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Vomas laughed. It was an abrupt, coughing noise, and he ran his hand over his mouth to smother the sound, but it was too late to recapture it.
"Yes, I imagine you would've." He lowered his hand and shook his head, all traces of amusement gone. "My point still stands. There are others here who could read you. I'm not the only one with the ability. But you're the only one I've encountered who has your ability. What else do you see?"
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Timo noticed the way Mr Big Wig was amused by him and not angry. He relaxed when he realised that the other man wasn't angry, that he could be reasonable. He was intrigued when he was prompted for more information, so he tried to get the deal sweetened.
"I can see lots of things," he said, puffing out his chest and squaring his shoulders. "I can see you're interested in what I know, for a start. That must be valuable to you."
He'd never been a subtle guy.
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"Indeed. But what would stop me from taking the information from you?" His tone was flat.
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Timo pulled a face.
"Where's the fun in that?"
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Vomas shrugged. "Might not be fun, but it's effective. Tell me, what do you see? Red Men and what else?"
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Timo expelled air in a dramatic fashion, throwing up his hands and glaring at the ceiling - the noise out of his mouth sounded a bit like 'plegh' and he strode over to throw himself onto the soft-looking couch that was harder than expected. Bastard couldn't even give him a plush cushion.
"Fine Mr Mighty, I'll tell you what you want. How long you got?" he challenged.
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He stretched out his arm and shook it, revealing a large-faced watch on a pale wrist. "I have time," he said, after glancing downwards briefly. "Please, enlighten me."
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"How about a trade? A question for a question?" Timo grinned, knowing he was pushing his luck but Mr Dangerous Dude seemed happy to indulge him so Timo would take all the slack in his rope and then tug on it a little more for some extra.
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"I thought you didn't want to know anything," he said, raising an eyebrow. "What happens to plausible deniability if I answer your questions?"
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"That was before you wanted to start pumping me for information," Timo scoffed. "If you're going to kill me, I'd prefer to know what the fuck you are."
He gave a twisted smile to this, which was supposed to be mischievous and smug, but he didn't feel like his face was pulling it off, so he dropped it.
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Vomas didn't think it'd make a difference, but he was willing to humor Timo.
"Very well. A question for a question."
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Timo should've felt like a winner; he'd got an agreement for something where there was none before, he'd been given permission for knowledge he wasn't supposed to have, he should be relishing this moment. Except he wasn't.
There was a gnawing sensation in his belly that made him feel like he needed to either eat something or throw something up. The penthouse felt too hot but his hands felt cold. He rubbed his palms together between his knees to warm them up and then swiped them on his jeans clad legs. He licked his lips and looked around for
an escape
inspiration. He asked the coffee table in front of him, instead of the Red Man: "So what are you?"
His tone held none of his prior arrogance.
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He stood from his desk and made his way to the couch, adjusting the cuffs of his sleeves as he went. The piece of furniture was a substantial modular unit, but Vomas sat close enough to Timo that his knee brushed Timo's leg when he angled himself towards the young man. His expression was earnest when he gathered a warm hand between his two chilly ones.
Vomas was motionless except for the movement of his eyes as he searched Timo's face for a sign of recognition. He hoped he wouldn't have to give any other hints, but based on their banter so far, he didn't think he'd have to. Timo was filled with the bravado and brashness of youth, but he wasn't unintelligent.
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Mr Mega Pants sat uncomfortably close and Timo's hand twitched slightly as it was taken, but he didn't pull it away. For a moment he thought that his hand would be brought close to the Red Man's lips in a suave kiss for ladies - which would've been weird - and his imagination blended in smoothly with something else
Countless movie images flashed across his mind, starting with a black and white vision of Max Schrek and ending with a pale blonde visage of a smirking Tom Cruise.
His heart accelerated with a mixture of fear and excitement. They weren't just fodder which he'd kind of known all along. He'd never thought of them as superior, either - just different. Like lions were different. Like bears were different. Creatures to avoid but not necessarily superior.
Timo wasn't the kind of person to study, but he'd always enjoyed reading. Poetry more so than books. A very old poem came to him and he recited it for the Red Man... who'd answered his question about all Red Men.
"In tombs of gold and lapis lazuli, bodies of holy men and women exude miraculous oil, odour of violet. But under heavy loads of trampled clay, lie bodies of the vampires full of blood; their shrouds are bloody and their lips are wet."
He wondered if Yeats had ever seen Red Men like Timo could. It certainly sounded like he had.
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He made a sound of confirmation deep in his throat and a smile tugged sporadically at the corner of his mouth, like it'd been hooked by a fisherman.
"Very good," he said, his voice a whisper. Timo's response to him, the quickening of his pulse, was a distraction. For a moment, all he could envision was burying his face in Timo's throat, breaking skin and pulling from his veins the very stuff of life, into his mouth and down his throat. If he hadn't fed earlier, he doubted he would've been able to fight the urge. But he came to, licking his lips and sucking in a shuddering breath. He was still holding Timo's hand, he realized, and made himself release it.
Vomas scooted away to his own cushion and busied himself with smoothing his tie, though it hung perfectly.
Eventually, he looked from his tie to Timo. "What other things do you see?"
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It wasn't in Timo's nature to give in easily. He pursed his lips when Vomas moved away without warning; a hand released and a cushion shifted. Was there something metaphorical in that? Had he been threatened with physical closeness and been permitted his space because he'd recited poetry?
"You didn't actually answer my question, you just held my hand," he said scornfully. His heartbeat continued its rapid pace.
Did he seriously want to poke a watchful bear within swatting distance?
Why yes. It seemed he did.
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"Oh, please," he ground out. Timo's heartbeat had taken up its rhythm in his head again, bah-dum, bah-dum. The muscles in his jaws flared and he clenched his hands into fists. "Do you really need me to say it? That I'm a vampire? That I want to feed from you? Because I can, if that'll make our game more real for you."
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Timo stared at the self-titled vampire, unable to summon an appropriate expression. His thoughts were spinning like tyres in thick mud, gaining no ground and going around in circles, doing nothing except to dig him in deeper. The biggest question he had to ask was not what Mr Hot Shot was, but what did he want from him?
"There are a lot of Red Men in this city," he said carefully, thinking that a deal was a deal and he owed an answer. Timo was concerned that he couldn't find an angle for himself though. He was operating blindly, not knowing what his end game was. "And shadow faces."
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He was well aware there was a surplus of his kind in the city, and he nearly growled that at Timo, but the information he actually wanted followed and he remained silent. His fingers uncurled and his eyes narrowed as he thought.
Shadow faces. Faces shrouded in darkness? Perhaps a face hidden behind another? Could he be speaking of demons, who took human appearances when they walked among them? If so, he had little use for Timo's ability to see them, because he could smell them. Many reeked of sulfur, a rotten and nose-wrinkling smell that was detectable from a long distance away. Others carried distinctive scents from whatever planes they crawled through, but they were all decidedly other.
"What else?" He wondered if Timo would consider that part of his original question and answer, or if he'd have to perform a dance and song again.
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"Closed doors, blacked out windows... backs of cards," Timo said slyly, aware that he was bragging. He had to control himself because he was playing into this guy's hands. He didn't look particularly happy either and Timo felt like he was groping in a dark room, trying to turn on the light and assign himself some value. He was beginning to think maybe he wasn't as special to Mr Fangy-Face as he'd expected. "Purple lines," he said carefully before watching him intently for clues.
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Vomas nodded. "You can see beyond things, then." It made sense, that Timo had been able to win game after game because he couldn't just deduce what a card could be, but could actually see it if he looked past it. A useful ability for a con-artist.
"What about the lines? Do they lead somewhere?" He met Timo's stare, then, and his gaze was just as intent as the human's.
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Timo saw more interest in the lines thanks to the demanding tone of the question. He didn't need to lock eyes with Mr Dark And Brooding.
"They might do, I've never bothered following them," he said. "They cross over a lot at the city's central park and I don't go to the park much because of the--"
Too much information. He was offering too much information. He had to start bargaining for something otherwise this guy was just going to drain him of it and possibly drain him of life next.
"--you know, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship. How about you send up some lobster dinner and wine and dine me and tell me your name?"
Timo smiled winningly, sure that his handsome countenance would charm this bloodsucker, because he wasn't dead yet. That was always a good sign.
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When Timo first started talking, Vomas turned his entire body toward him, eager to hear more of the lines that intersected at the very place he'd been drawn to when he'd first come to the city. But he turned away again when Timo stopped himself and began bargaining again.
"You would have this entire level reeking of shellfish?" He snorted. "No. Wine, perhaps, and my name, but I will not tolerate lobster in here."
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"So much for being a classy hotshot," Timo complained, then thought it might not be a good idea to upset this guy. This vampire guy. Red Man. Funny, the more he interacted with Mr Scowly Jowls, the less afraid he got. No matter how much he told himself that he should be more intelligent about his behaviour, he couldn't help cracking wise. "So what's your name, big man?"
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He shot a glowering look Timo's way. "Vomas," he said, pronouncing it 'voh-mahs'. "My name is Vomas, though I'm rather fond of Mr. Mighty."
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Timo laughed. His laughter was rich and genuine because Vomas had surprised him by acknowledging the nickname he'd said out loud. Was he actually beginning to respect this guy (for his personality rather than his Red-Man quality, which had commanded a kind of avoidance respect, as an antelope would respectfully give a lion a wide berth) or was Vomas just better at conning than he was? Wouldn't it be easy for vampires to win people over? Just charm them and gobble them up?
His laughter died away.
"Okay, Vomas. You didn't give me a last name so I guess we're on a first name basis. I don't suppose we'll be eating together. That's not how it works right? You don't go all shiny or anything in the sunlight?"
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"No, we won't," he said, his brow wrinkled. "And I wouldn't go all shiny in the sunlight, I'd burn. Although, the carbonized remnants would be shiny."
Vomas paused and shrugged, then changed subjects entirely.
"When you were young, how did you cope with seeing beyond, as you do?" It was easy to imagine a child reeling away from closed doors, but perhaps Timo had been just as brazen as a youngster as he was now.
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There was hesitation before Timo's answer. He licked his lips and sat back on the sofa, pushing himself further into the cushion to try and get himself comfortable. His hands remained on his lap, covering his crotch.
"I don't remember seeing anything different when I was young," he said, and if Vomas was being especially perceptive, he might understand that this was a lie. "Most of my sight kicked in when I hit puberty. Either that or I learned how to switch my vision around that time. Hard to say."
He made sure to maintain eye-contact with Vomas throughout his statement. Perhaps a little too much.
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He looked askance at Timo. "I want to share something I learned a long time ago," he said. "Many people think liars won't look you in the eye, but it's the ones who do that you should be wary of."
Vomas reached over to pat Timo's knee, like a coach preparing his runtiest little leaguer for bat. "Now. Why don't you try that again, but with the truth this time? Otherwise, I'll have to go digging myself and that's no way to start a friendship."
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With his words thrown back at him about friendship, Timo's too-wide-smile soured and he glared at the coffee table instead of at Vomas' face. He didn't want to talk about this; not when he wasn't ready to and especially not to this asshole. He didn't have much of a choice however, so he delivered the truth as woodenly (and briefly) as possible.
"I grew up fast because I saw things and knew things I shouldn't have. Innocence was for other kids. I learned to use it to my advantage. The end."
He wondered if this would meet Vomas' standards. If he was pressed, he would offer more - perhaps give an example - but he wasn't going to offer it freely.
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He lifted his hand towards Timo, then lowered it again with a sigh. Wanting to avoid talk of the past was understandable, but mending wounds be damned - he needed to find a path that would lead to some answers.
If it required picking at scabs, then he'd do so.
"I sometimes wonder what it would've been like if I'd remained in the dark," he admitted with a bitter smile. "I like to imagine I would've lived a happy and long life, but it's more likely I would've died to some disease that's treatable now. Plague, probably. Or the flu." Something quick, if he'd been lucky, but the times being what they were, it would've been painful regardless.
"What do you think your life would've been like if you'd been like everyone else? If you'd kept your innocence?"
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Timo wasn't sure what Vomas was getting at, until the point smacked him in the face.
"I never wanted to be like them. I like being able to see. They have it easy, but fodder is still fodder no matter how blissful they have it. They're worse than sheep because sheep don't have the capability of understanding. Them, they just don't want to know," he sneered out this last sentence until he realised that Vomas had taken him to a dark place. He adopted his winning smile, that for all appearances would be genuine except it didn't reflect in his eyes. "How about we talk more about the shit I see and forget the history lesson?" he offered. "It's not like it'll give you insight into anything other than my fucked up childhood. Okay?"
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Inside, he was triumphant, but he was careful to keep his expression neutral. "Alright. We were discussing... purple lines, wasn't it? You said they intersect at the park?"
He knew exactly what they'd been discussing, and what it might entail and he was desperate to hear more, but so far, overt signs of eagerness made Timo think he could force some sort of payment from him.
"Where else do they cross?"
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Timo thought the tactic was to get him pent up and then relax him with a change in topic, being the thing that Vomas wanted to know most. He was resentful that it had worked smoothly on him and also irked that the mind-games weren't being played to his advantage. This Red Man--vampire, this vampire--was wily and Timo decided to speak frankly, lest he be antagonised again.
He gave the vampire his grudging respect.
"Closest to the big tree in the park and closest to that... zen garden bridge. There's a mess of them at the gazebo too, like the builders put it there on purpose. That's all at the park," he added needlessly. He'd found the hotspots because he'd followed them, but he didn't always follow them. "There's a bunch of them in the West, up this side street with all the weird shops? The biggest purple line goes straight into the Quarter. I didn't go in there."
He shrugged.