Roleplay City
Administration => Infusco Archives => Archives => Old Roleplays => Topic started by: Existentially Odd on September 29, 2008, 12:29:44 PM
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Tom woke up and immediately wondered why he had. Instinctively, he turned his head to see if he was alone, and only then realised he was in his coffin, in the basement. Of course he was alone, was there any other state of being for him? Annoyed at his own idiocy, he shoved the lid open and sprang out of the \'bed\' he\'d slumbered the day away in, doing his damndest to push all thoughts of Reed away with it.
It didn\'t happen easily. He knew why, of course; the only place to find good snow lately was in the southern hemisphere and he\'d just returned from a power-boat-romping, glacier-scaling ski trip to New Zealand with his crew and Reed had been there. The first time they\'d met up in months, and it had to be one of the last places they\'d been together, happy - but the place that had triggered his stupid decision to attempt to lure Reed to his side permanently.
The mortal had moved on, which had been painfully clear when he brought his latest fuck on the adventure and decided to come out to the rest of the crew. None of them were really surprised, none of them particularly cared, but all of them watched Tom speculatively for the remainder of the trip, knowing he\'d been especially close to Reed, sensing that there\'d been something going on but not having the balls to ask.
A week he\'d been back in this shithole of a city that passed for \'home\' and he still hadn\'t got the lump out of his craw. Reed had moved on; he fucking needed to.
The redhead stalked upstairs with no particular plan in mind - beyond getting the fuck out of the house and doing something tonight, rather than moping about the house. He showered, washed his hair, dressed in faded blue jeans and a white business shirt that he rolled the sleeves up on, and left the top three buttons undone to bare his throat and the top of his chest. He stared at the décolletage in the mirror as he finger-combed some wax through his hair and took the time to spike it, wondering if he was baring too much in a city filled with all sorts of predators. In the end, he decided he didn\'t give a fuck; everything about him was raw and exposed lately, it didn\'t make a shitload of difference.
He applied a whole lot of expensive, musky cologne, pulled on his leather jacket and wooden-heeled cowboy boots and got on his bike. It purred to life with a high-pitched cough that evoked a rush of love within him and even brought out enough of a smile to show the dimple in his left cheek as he jigged the throttle (just to hear her scream). He put his helmet on (it was easier to bring his hair back from being mashed inside a helmet than it was from having 200km winds tear through it) and thumbed the snap of his collar closed upon his throat before he leaned his long body over the huge, powerful machine and roared out of his garage.
He rode nowhere in particular at first - keeping a keen eye on the tank so that he didn\'t run out of petrol again... that had been a... bad thing - and found himself oozing along the coast roads, his body shifting like mercury in a thermometer as he peeled around the corners, up and down as the road went. The speeds he did were insane and he really hoped a cop would pull him over, for he felt like a snack, but none found him.
Turning back towards the city, he followed the lights as they turned green, allowing himself to get lost in the gargantuan, beating heart that was the metropolis. His memory was shit, he knew he\'d have a hard time finding his way home but that need was hours away and he had a whole lot of trouble to stir up before then, besides; he didn\'t give a fuck.
Eventually, the troubled vampire happened upon the garish lights and ringing sounds of the amusement park, surprised to see it and curious immediately. He wondered if there were as many thrills and spills to be found within the place as some of the signs claimed there were and he decided, on a whim, to find out. He found a parking space, secured his bike and headed in, helmet tucked beneath his right arm. The admission price made his eyebrows rise but he paid what was demanded and entered the grounds, coming to a sudden stop just inside the entryway as he got his bearings, absently unsnapping his jacket collar so he could once more daringly open his throat to the night.
Where to, first?
-
The tinkling carnival music was, for Amery, like listening to a younger version of himself whisper in his ear:
Mommmmyyy, can we go to the place with the rides? –Maybe next summer, Amery.
Amery could see his little self bouncing up and down in the bus seat as the route swung close enough to the amusement park, eyes glued to the window at the brightly colored loops and spirals in the distance, poking up over the surrounding landscape: so close, and always out of reach. He hadn’t really intended to come here tonight. Or ever, really.
Amery didn’t usually kill when he hunted: he just drank, and stole, and occasionally beat the shit out of his victim. But only so that, when the mortal woke up, the other injuries would account for the blood loss and explain away the bite marks, hidden under other cuts and bruises. Tonight he had merely stolen—not far from the amusement park, some rich fat fuck should be coming around with their wallet two hundred dollars lighter. And at least a fat lip.
He’d actually been on his way home.
He needed to feed, but he wouldn’t touch his lips to the skin of someone he hated. And he hated rich fat fucks. But it was a beautiful night, and he figured he could just comb the beach for stragglers or late night love makers. They were usually worth the search. But when he’d seen the distant lights of Fantastika blinking over to his left, twinkling irresistibly in the darkness, he’d changed course. He didn’t give the beach a second thought.
It was time he go.
And so he went.
--
It was like he had imaged, only more sinister. As a boy he had never envisioned Fantastika at the nighttime, only in the light. But now the day was lost to him. And so, with only the night, he spent hours exploring the grounds of the amusement park. He had paid the entrance fee out of the stolen $200, but did not ride any of the rides or purchase anything. The only thing that had even tempted him was a game where, grabbing a mallet, you hit a target as hard as you can to see if you can make a little metal weight fly to the top of a pole. It was called ‘The Strongest-Man Challenge.’ Amery had been sorely tempted. But he wasn’t a man. And he didn’t feel (what little so young a vampire could feel) that he was the strongest lurking the grounds this night. Though he was an apt individual to secretly believe it.
Still, he was not disappointed. He felt some sorrow at his lost child self, who never had the opportunity to go to the amusement park and, even now after death, would never take part in any of the rides or games that had so entranced him. He remembered when he was six or seven he had set up the couch cushions and old bean bags and tried to make his own amusement park in the loft he shared with his brother when they came to stay with his grandparents. “I am the Ringmaster!” he’d declared, and Miles had laughed at him and said “Ringmasters are for circuses, dummy” and Amery had been so angry that he started attacking Miles until the two were tumbling around together on the floor throwing child fists and screaming like banshees.
It was the first time Amery had ever hit anyone.
But he was dreaming, lost in thought. He sat on a bench near the cotton candy and popcorn stalls, arms outstretched on the back of the bench as though he had a beautiful lady sitting on either side of him. The smell of whipped sugar, and burnt corn kernels and butter and oil from the hotdog stand put his olfactory in sensory overload. His ears could here nothing but the rumble of voices, the creak of machinery, and the tinny music of the amusement park. He closed his eyes from the sights—he didn’t wish to look at people. He was too hungry, but too reluctant to leave. And he couldn’t hunt here.
Well, perhaps he could have. But he didn’t know this place. He didn’t know what claims stood, or what other creatures (vampire or other) were here or knew that he was here. His senses were not strong enough to detect those others yet. And he couldn’t risk screwing up. He was too young, and others were too… too everything else.
He leaned forward, rubbing his fingers into the top of his scalp because it felt good. When took his hand away, hair was standing up in all directions, but he either didn’t notice or care, or both. He let that hand rest in his lap, and looked down at it distractedly as he fell back into thought. It was a rare occasion for Amery to be so contemplative—but it had been a long day of action. And without new blood, the young vampire was feeling mellower and more content with inaction than perhaps he would have been on any other night.
He closed his eyes again, imagining the shadows of the mortals projected on the inside of his eyelids: A puppet show of silhouettes. They didn’t dance, they didn’t juggle—they just walked passed, or reached for something, or turned their heads to look in other, more enticing directions…
-
He began with the roller coasters - the fastest first and the rest in a guessed order based on his belief about their speeds. Because the entry fee accounted for all the rides he wanted, he returned to the fastest in between the others (not such an arduous task, since he could only find four different roller coasters altogether) and grew to really like it. The speeds it reached were phenomenal and he was flipped around so often it felt like the machine was designed to shake a stray pancreas out of its passengers; it was perfect.
He headed off to explore the rest of the park in a noticeably improved mood after his speedy beginning, not finding a whole lot of value in the motionless attractions like the house of mirrors (though some of the cute girls squealing their way through them did have appeal) but happy to skip anything that didn\'t strike his fancy or ignite his imagination.
The vampire was about halfway through his amusement park adventure when he caught the scent of another undead being in the park, brought to him by an errant gust of wind. Though it was not enough to stop him in his tracks, the redhead nevertheless veered in the direction of the source of that smell, just to check them out. Within a few paces he knew it was a \'him\', not a \'them\' and could easily see the male sprawled across a seat, relaxed as a lizard on a hot summer road with no traffic.
Now Tom did come to a stop, about two metres away from the boy, looking him over. Sensing youth in the supernatural stranger, the elder naturally became more brazen, his thumbs sliding into his jeans pockets and a definite swagger oozing into his shoulders as he approached. Irrationally, the sight of the completely ignorant and seemingly innocent young vampire sprawled upon the bench minding his own business infuriated the redhead and his expression became a sneer of disdain as he chose to alert the other to his presence.
"What\'s that shit s\'posed to accomplish?" Tom demanded, posed with arrogant indifference before the unknown male by keeping his thumbs hooked in his pants, left hip thrust outward and right boot splayed forward. He looked down his nose at the neophyte and was satisfied that he was superior in every way; it didn\'t hurt to alert others to this fact every now and then, though.
-
Amery hadn’t heard anyone approach him, but when the words hit his ears he immediately came around. Those chosen words were exactly what Amery longed to hear night after repetitious night. A fucking invitation to stir shit up. About fucking time. Blood, Fuck or Fight, he was instantly pumped. His eyelids sprung back open in a snap—no coy slow-blinks or side glances. He didn’t roll that way.
Confrontation?—fuck you and everybody. A reason to beat your ass, dumbshit, and not feel bad about it.
You wanna start shit?—try me, I fuckin dare you.
You got nothing against this, mother fuc—{—he’s-a-vampire-god-fuckin-damn-it-cocksucker.ShitAmery-you-need-to-wake-the-fuck-up}—ker.
He had been all riled up in a millisecond, body high on rapid-response adrenaline, at full advantage… then a fraction of a second later, a moment’s observation, and he was on the defensive. Fuck. Not that he was going to show it. Fuck no. If the other could sense it, then he was fucked, but he wasn’t about to wave a little white flag in the other’s face. He’d see first if the vamp wasn’t just acting tough shit...
...and with that Amery had talked himself into and out of two mood swings in about 2½ seconds. And he finally had his shit together.
He punched himself mentally—be faster, bitch.
“Suppose’ta keep wankers like you from sittin down next to me, bro," Amery said, eyes doing a swift and seemingly unimpressed once-over/up-down of the vampire. "S’why don’t you and your boots just keep on walkin, Indiana—this ain’t the Loveboat.”
Amery spoke with less speed, and bound up energy, as one privy to his thought process might have expected. And his words were heavy with accent, picked up from the countless city voices he’d been exposed to in his young, but intense, lifetime. He could have sounded like a complete pose: jocky-white boy trying to be the shit. But he wasn’t posing. He was playing it up some, sure, but that’s how you talked on the street when someone was in your business. Play it up, so long as you could back it up.
And he could back it up, if at least when his foe was mortal. Vamp’s were tricky shit, and Amery had reason to stay sitting. Which he wouldn’t have been if the man in front of him had been just that: a man. If he had been, Amery would’ve been on his feet and in his face in a second. Still, he was ready for it, should it happen. In fact, his legs were practically quivering just with the idea of leaping to his feet. The muscles in his arms were tightened in anticipation of throwing punches and smashing that arrogant expression back into the vampire’s skull. He didn’t know who this red-headed fucker was, but Amery’s eyes were locked onto his, searching: for weakness, discomfort, any visible sign to say he’s bluffing.
Somehow, somewhere, he’s bluffing. Immortals are always bluffing. It was one of the two things Amery had learned about the supernatural since his turning: there’s always a catch, and they’re always bluffing.
And if Amery could get to the bluff first, then he could probably get out clear. Or at least get the first move.
So long as the red-head didn\'t catch Amery\'s bluff first.
-
wankers like you
wankers
like you
wanker
Bluish eyes narrowed as the word bounced around inside his head, the memories of Reed it kicked up stinging like a bitch; he gritted his teeth against it and glared hatefully at the kid. Hatefully... with pure, rich hatred.
The other was so new he practically had a heartbeat, except he had the added drawback
bonus
of being exactly what Tom had been contemplating making a permanent fixture in his life; a youthful, good looking guy who couldn\'t be harmed by simply rolling wrong in a kayak or having a tonne of snow land on him as he skiied down a mountain. This boy, this child was what he\'d covetted, what he\'d taken within his heart, what he\'d desired in his bed, what had given him sleepless days and made him make a total fool of himself.
This guy was far too much like Reed for there to be anything satisfactory found here.
Tom forced a laugh - well, an insidious snicker of condescension and scorn that slid from between his compacted lips, anyway - and curled his lip elegantly at the young vampire. "You look like a fuckin\' beacon, exuding undead pheromones so the mortals\'ll just flock to you to get bit," he mocked, flinging his arms wide and dropping his head back upon his shoulders, feet coming together with alarming speed in a class crucifix stance.
"Come to me!" he beseeched the sky with gusto. "I am the Jesus Christ of vampires and I shall change your blood into mine!" he declared with all the enthusiasm of an evangelist lost in a frenzy of faith. It was obvious he didn\'t give a shit about who might be passing and hearing him out the other as supernatural. He also didn\'t hold the pose for long, for he wouldn\'t have put it past the aggressive little vamp to have charged him while he wasn\'t looking; his gaze dropped to the boy as quickly as was practicable, pretty lips curled in a smirk. He snickered again, for good measure, lowering his arms to his sides as well, so that his thumbs could hook into his pockets once more.
Then, with one last withering look and a shrug of dismissal for the neophyte, Tom turned to the right and began to stroll arrogantly away. The \'Fuck you, wanker,\' was implied, he felt.
-
This red-headed vampire was confusing Amery. And Amery didn’t like to be fucking confused.
He had been sure, dead-fucking sure, that he’d just fucked up and set himself up to a fight with another, obviously older and stronger, vampire. No one gave a death glare like that and then just… well, did nothing. What was he playing at?
A beacon, Amery scoffed in his thoughts—well, it drew you in, bitch, now didn’t it. He would have said it out loud, but then came the fucking failed high school monologue bullshit, and Amery was distracted by desiring (even more than he already did) to smash up that smirking face, to show the redhead how skin deep pretty really was.
Which wouldn’t really work, and was a bad idea anyway, since he was a vampire.
Amery had to keep telling himself that.
Old Vampire + me = eternity gets a lot fucking shorter.
He didn’t know where the fuck the red-head had pulled the Jesus thing from (probably his ass) or what the point was—either way it was old shit. Jesus-Vampire-Blood-and-wine-and-damnation-and-go fuck yourself you cocky shit. Amery had even heard it before, and he wasn’t yet older than he looked. Same book, same fucking old ass stupid piece of shit story, just a different damn page…
And then the extravaganza was done, with only a few nearby mortals casting awkward, sideways glancing, faces buried in giant mothballs of cotton candy, or picking up their mustard shmeared hot dogs and dragging their unabashedly staring mustard shmeared children away.
And then they were two.
And Amery had to literally bite the inside of his lower lip to keep from getting to his feet and assaulting the red-head. Though the prick of pain reminded him to keep his seat, the trickle of blood into his mouth only roused his anger. And hunger. Stupid idea. Fuck he needed to fucking drink!
Don’t you fucking walk away from me, bitch…
--that’s the point, Amery
I’ll beat that sneer off your face so fast…!
--Which wouldn’t really work, and would be a bad idea anyway, since-he’s-a-vampire-for-the-fucking-last-time!
Mother Fucker! Cock sucking piece of shit you better fucking leave and hope I never find you again!
With the vampire’s back turned, at least somewhat, Amery\'s tempation towards agression was lessened. It wasn’t a fight if you pounced them from behind like a coward, if they were walking off, if you fucking had to chase after him, if the fucking bastard was walking away like he was too cool for school, like he couldn’t care less, even though he’d started it, why the fuck would he walk away, it didn’t fucking make sense that he’d fucking just walk away after Amery told him to get lost, unless shit-what-the-fuck…? Just walking away—So easy? Was he fucking afraid? No fucking way…there’s a catch.
Or he’s bluffing.
“Good decision, Indiana—”
...second guessing his authority in the situation, backing out before he gets too involved?
“—oh and don’t forget your balls,”
Well… good.
“you might need them.”
because subordinacy wasn\'t really Amery\'s -thing-...
“Someday.”
-
With all the celerity an extremely active, extravagantly fit vampire of over two centuries could muster, Tom whirled and raced back to the boy on the bench. The rage held a knife-twist of bitter pain and oh, how it burned in him, like he was a flare released into a vast black sky from a leaking, lurching ship; he was hope and he was fury and he wanted to hurt the arrogant little fuck in ways that didn\'t even bear counting.
He wasn\'t lucid enough to acknowledge that he was subconsciously seeking to punish Reed by beating the shit out of this little punk - he wasn\'t enlightened enough to reach such conclusions even if he was thinking clearly right then. He saw white and he acted, hurling himself back to the boy on the bench and aiming to get a good, strong grip on the little fuck\'s throat (unless the kid had moves enough to escape such a mind-bogglingly swift movement).
"The fuck you got my balls!" he bellowed as he went, fully intent on proving that he hadn\'t been walking away from the younger supernatural because he\'d been emasculated or surrendered his treasured bits to the kid; he\'d walked on his terms and he was back to prove it... one screaming, spittle-flung word at a time.
-
The fingers had closed around Amery’s throat before the other Vampire’s words hit his ears. But even before that, there was a moment when Amery’s brain made the connection that this was -not- going to end in easy victory and -yes- the mother fucker was coming back at him, and, yes, there was finally going to see some blood but it was probably going to be his own…
That was about as far as he got before the momentum of the charging vampire struck him. As did a single idea. One lone idea that occurred to him in the moment of surprise and pain as unnaturally strong fingers drew tight around the skin, and muscles, and tubes in his neck. Just one, little, possible opportunity…
…and, so, Amery really hoped the bench wasn’t bolted down.
He couldn’t defend himself fast enough. He knew it. He was too fucking slow, because he was too damn young, and the red-head had definitely not been bluffing and Amery was wishing about now that he’d left the vampire’s testicles out of the whole ordeal. He might have gotten away with just “Good decision, Indiana,” a clean and solid enough victory, but no….he had to add the balls. And now his throat was being crushed and constricted so that he couldn’t say anything at all in retort. Body over mind. He could only open his mouth in shock, instinctively gasping for a breath he didn’t need, and throwing his head back…and his shoulders…and his torso…
Momentum save me--and please don’t let this fucking bench be bolted down.
-
To a degree, Tom was ready to be thrown off balance by some sort of action the kid took, but the bench flinging them both over like a boulder thrust from a catapult took him by surprise. He\'d committed himself to grasping a hold of the neophyte and so he did it with gusto, thereby rocketing the bench backwards and them with it.
The first thing he did was let go. The second thing was throw himself into the forward momentum so that he didn\'t get too hurt; he rolled, completing a neat somersault along the ground that left him a bit dirty and in a confined space due to the bench being positioned to the side of the walkway and between the two stalls.
Tom spun on his heel the millisecond he was standing again, adrenaline also coursing through him at ever-increasing speeds. His focus was getting his hands back on the young vampire who\'d caused this trouble in the first place. "You little fuck," he seethed - as if it was Amery\'s fault directly that the bench wasn\'t bolted to the ground - envisioning his fists getting a good grip of whatever material covered the kid\'s shoulders and hauling him into an upright position.
Of course, if Amery was already standing, that wouldn\'t be necessary and he\'d only try for one hand grasping shirt, while the other swung a punch; he wasn\'t fussy, but he was intent on ripping the little smartass a new one for his impertinence.
-
Standing would not have been the best word to describe Amery at that moment. He would have liked to have been doing it. It was probably what he should have been doing. But, alas, it was not what he was doing.
What he was doing, was being momentarily stuck.
And that did not feed his ego one bit.
Great. Wonderful. The bench wasn\'t bolted—Bra-fucking-vo-that-fucking-hurt-like-a-bitch!
The momentum of the charge had quite easily knocked the bench over—and the two of them with it. But Amery hadn’t exactly been in the best receiving position for the tumble, and before he knew what was happening his head cracked back against the cement, or hard packed dirt, or whatever the fuck was behind the bench (Amery, at the moment dazed and facing skyward, was not exactly in the ideal position either to correctly identify what surface he was laying on.) But that, really, wasn’t the most painful part. The most physically painful part, yes, but he was a vampire—he’d heal. It was the psychological distress he went through when, upon attempting to roll off and leap to his feet, he found that his shoulders seemed glued to the back of the bench.
His fucking hood was pinned between the fucking ground and the fucking bench--God Fucking Damn it.
Fuck.
As mental obscenities gushed through his mind like water from a hose, his body was busy trying to figure out how to un-stuck itself. All his weight was back against his shoulders, and gravity wasn’t being kind even to his vampiric strength. A young vampire, sure, but a goddamn vampire nonetheless. The bench must have been… heavy, too.
His face flushed (from insult and injury and being too long upside down) and the back of his head tingled in pain as his body repaired itself as quickly as possible. Still, his head was swimming. And he was still in a fight. And he needed to get back up now…no excuses. Amery let out a noise something between a growl and a curse, and then in one all-out attempt he threw his weight backwards and away from the bench.
One backwards summersault, a fraction of a second of stretched seams and wriggling, and a staggering stand later, Amery was up on his feet again facing the red-head. Only he hadn’t a hoodie or shirt on any longer. Like the shell of a disappeared turtle, his two layers of clothing (remaining neatly one inside the other) were still pinned and lying in a strange face-down position where Amery had recently been struggling. It was a bit eerie looking. But Amery didn’t really care to look at the moment. After all, he was half naked, had lost valuable seconds, and had a really fucking bad headache at the moment. Contemplating the artistic valuing and metaphorical significance of his positioned clothing was not high on the list of things to be accomplished while in a fight with a vampire. And he was pretty damn sure said vampire would be on top of him in any second. If only his eyes would stop wobbling and he could focus on the mother fucker… fooooccccuuuusss
-
Some of the venom in Tom\'s attack dissipated when he turned and found the kid pinned beneath the bench - that was just fucking pathetic, especially the useless (and dizzy) way he would try to move but not manage to - and his face twisted into a sneer as he watched the idiot wobbling about. He had no clue about the clothing hindering Amery\'s recovery and just as he was about to swoop down and haul the upside down turtle to his feet, the kid rolled... clean out of his clothes.
What
the
fuck?
He didn\'t look too steady on his feet but the fact that he was up was good enough for Tom; the rage that came from an upstart giving him shit surged through him once more and he stepped to the other vamp, aiming a quick, solid punch at his gut, to be followed by a powerful roundhouse to his jaw. He hoped the little fuck had banged his head and that one good whack to the face would knock him out, put him on his ass nice and clean and show him the error of his ways without too much dicking about, but he was prepared for more.
Hell, as targets went, this one had made a pretty easy one of himself; he could go all fucking night like this, until the bastard was a pile of bleeding pulp and his knuckles were raw from scraping against the kid\'s face... he had a lot of anger to get out and he was only getting started.
-
foooocccuu--there-he-is...shit.
Disorientation still being the order of the night, he caught the vampire’s movement too late to block the fierce shot to his gut. He hadn’t been expecting that. After all, as far as Amery was concerned, real fighters hit first to the face. This low blow was…well, a low blow.
Fuck head—fight like a man!
It seemed a perfectly logical statement to Amery, but he was forced only to think it because all the muscles in his stomach were currently contracting as they took the blow, and he wasn’t able to get in enough air to form the words on exhale. There was a brief flash of accompanying nausea as well, and when combined with his still aching (hell, probably cracked) skull it felt like… a wonderful combination of awesomeness.
Amery had had enough of this shit.
Yeah the mother fucker was stronger. Yeah he was faster. Yeah he had the fucking advantage, okay—but fuck that. He wasn’t about to be some immortal\'s punching bag for playing by the rules. It was the stuck up, cocky shit red-head who’d started it, Amery decided, probably for just this reason. Who’s to say he would have continued walking away if Amery hadn’t said anything? He probably just would have found another excuse to start shit. Well fine. Go fuck yourself, then!
It was when the pain in his stomach was peaking that he knew he would have to move. It was always when it hurt the most that the opponent had the best shot. And would usually take it. Amery grit his teeth and brought his head down even lower than it was, throwing himself towards his rival and practically into the other vampire’s arms. Not that it would hurt—that wasn’t the point. The main point was to get too close to take a straight on face shot, which was the number one thing Amery didn’t want right then. And it also looked like the number one thing the other vampire was attempting to do.
The point, also, was to establish playing terms. If the fucker wanted to play low first blow, then let’m play even lower...
Once he made contact with the vampire’s body, he straightened up as fast as he was able, fighting through the stars and the wails from his internal organs. The next step was to grab and yank down on pretty-boy’s collared shirt, bringing up his knee at the same time with all the supernatural strength and speed he had in his young body. Shout-growling out a string of words with all the air he’d been able to draw back into his lungs since the hit, he managed a rough—
“the fuck you got your balls!”
—hoping it would prove valid.
Never had Amery wanted to feel another man’s testicles make contact with a part of his body more than he did now. He wanted to feel the bloody baubles crush against his knee, feel his kneecap slam against the pinnacle of the pelvic bone. It didn’t matter to Amery who that second part hurt more, though he had an idea. Hell, he even wanted to endure the shame of fighting low if it gave him so much as a glimpse of pain and anguish on the face of that sneering, self-absorbed blood-bitch.
-
Tom was only enraged by the little fuck avoiding his second punch by falling in against him - especially when their tussle continued at close quarters and he was being grabbed. Buttons popped, another curse flew and suddenly, a knee was thrusting upward at surprising speed. The intent was no surprise whatsoever.
Thankfully, Tom\'s reactions were lightning fast and he managed to spin his crotch to the side in time. The problem with such a swift hip swivel, however, was that he instinctively brought his left leg up for further protection... the kid\'s knee slammed hard into his thigh, momentarily bunching the muscle (thankfully, the lack of bloodflow to undead muscles limited the impact bludgeoning had so there would be no bruise and minimal pain) but, unfortunately, throwing him entirely off balance.
"You little cunt!" he bellowed, grasping wildly at the younger vampire\'s wrists - to no avail. All six feet and five inches of him toppled to the right, assisted by Amery shoving him away (in an effort to avoid his hands being pinned, no doubt), forcing Tom to stop grabbing at the air and get a feel for what his body was doing instead. As with the bench, he quickly determined it was best to go with the flow of his fall but this time it was nowhere near as neat and graceful
Oh fuck
he just did the best he could, under the circumstances.
Tom was gifted a fair bit of momentum thanks to the kick delivered unintentionally to his thigh but his upper half was slower to get with the program - plus, his body was already contorted due to his efforts to protect his testicles in the first place. Awkwardly, he fell down upon his right elbow (scraped it), half slid, half rolled onto the shoulder (tore the shirt, scraped a bit more skin off) and ended his gaudy manoeuvre by swinging his incredibly long legs up and sort of over his head, stopping briefly in a fucked-up bridge type formation that left him entirely vulnerable.
Thankfully, there was still his superior age and celerity to draw on, so he didn\'t stop there, but pushed off the bitumen of the walkway and got to his feet in as gangly and hasty a manner as he was able. It would\'ve looked easily as horrible and stupid as the kid had when he rolled out of his shirt but Tom still had his on (for all it was worth, hanging in tatters as it was. He was half regretful, half glad now that he\'d found a cloakroom to store his helmet and jacket while he road the roller coasters earlier - both would\'ve been ideal protection right about now)... and now really wasn\'t the time to worry about how he looked, so long as he stopped himself being incapacitated.
"I\'ll fuckin\' ram \'em into your mouth!" he promised as he managed to end up facing Amery at last, not really taking the time to think about the fact that he was threatening to shove his own testicles into the mouth of the man most likely to bite them off in the name of sport. He also had no idea how his nuts had become such a hot topic tonight but he had no discipline to consider that right now; he was busy trying to size the neophyte up to figure out how best to charge and headbutt the little fuck.
He wanted the shithead to see more than stars, he wanted the fucking solar system to be rocketing \'round this guy\'s brain by the time his forehead finished its run at the bridge of the upstart\'s nose. It was a classic thuggery move but he couldn\'t wait to see blood pouring down the pretty boy\'s face, watch him spit a tooth or two out (even though he\'d aim for his nose... he was happier imagining a loss of fangs as well, anyway) and blur his vision with tears. The thought of all that blood only heightened his senses, in fact, arousing him in whole new ways. Yes, yes a headbutt was exactly what was called for now (since they were apparently fighting as dirty as it got), he just had to work how to get in close enough to do it.
(ooc: I realise I Godmoded Amery shoving Tom away when Tom grabbed for his hands, but I figured it was only natural. I am, however, only too happy to re-write the scene with him hanging on if that is what you prefer - I wrote my reply going one way and completely re-wrote it once already, I need it to feel right for both of us before I\'m happy, I think, so don\'t be afraid to tell me, \'No way, Amery would hang on!\' if that\'s what you want. Let me know!)
-
(ooc: Your reply was smashing ^ ^
No worries about the godmode; a little bit here and there is fine for fight scenes…in my book at least. Plus, if you get out of hand I can always report you to the….uh…administrators….damn it -_- nevermind. XD)
Testicles beyond his assault now, Amery was still able to take a little comfort in the other vampire’s…err…elegant recovery. Still, he was left with something to be desired regarding the pain and anguish he had hoped to see spread itself across the other’s face. How he longed to see those baby blues roll back into that red-head and watch him tumble to the ground in defeat among the sticky napkins and gum-spots and other fairground detritus…
The thought of it sent shivers down Amery’s spine: victory, perfect and sweet, the moment of dominance and, finally, peace…the calm the settled his adrenaline pumped body when it was over, done…
Anticipating such a moment, convincing himself it was possible, combined with the moment’s respite granted by the other vampire’s fall, was enough for Amery to partially shake away the physical and emotional discomfort of the previous few minutes. It was all back to square one: one on one, both on their feet, both hurt but healing, both looking for the best way to next strike. This was how Amery liked to play. Like chess, only the pawns threw punches and the knights could knock you unconscious. It was about strategy now, and playing dirty. Not the best of combinations, but certainly one that required a great deal of creativity and adaptability…and if Amery couldn’t be the fastest or the strongest, he’d have to settle for being the most imaginative…
Besides, anything he could throw at the vampire, though it might be strong enough to do some damage, wouldn’t be fast enough. His ball-shot had been proof of that: he couldn’t have gone any faster, and he’d still been beaten to it. His defensive reactions might not be fast enough either. He’d have to anticipate, and keep the higher ground.
“Go ahead, Indiana!” he howled back, with a laugh and a grin wide enough that his fangs were just visible: Amery having obviously come to the conclusion that the other vampire had skipped over. “Then I’ll really got your balls, yeah—”
Knowing quite precisely where the bench was behind him (considering his previously intimate moments with it) he leapt backwards onto the edge of the seat that was now facing skyward. The bench didn’t flip over again (thank god) and probably wouldn’t… unless of course another person tried to join him. And even better, this put Amery, still facing the red-head, a little above the other’s eyelevel. And now that he was looking down at the vampire, he felt an instantaneous rush of confidence and a thousand times better.
Oh hell fuckin yeah…
“Let’s go Grandpa, or d’ya gotta stop for a potty break?”
-
Tom, far more used to brawling and keeping his head even when adrenaline was high (or so it seemed), took a moment to look up at the newer vampire and shake his head. A few glances beyond the crowing rooster told him that people had noticed what they were doing, were watching them warily now and his superior senses could detect running feet thudding in their direction, pretty close by; security was obviously on its way. That didn\'t leave him a lot of options, considering he didn\'t need attention focussed on him; living anonymously was the key to his existence and if authorities tried to pin him down, he\'d be forced to kill them all to get out of it... and he was leery of running against the Oligarchy\'s policies because there was no trouble like a demon breathing down your ass to make you regret your actions.
"You\'re a fucking cockhead," he sneered, looking back up at Amery and even taking the time to level a pointing finger at him. He began to sidle away as he spoke, listening actively now for where the running was coming from and calculating his best route to the cloakroom to get his jacket and helmet back so he could flee without being caught. "But you\'ll keep, cunt, \'cos you\'re not worth getting nicked for. We shall have to continue this later," he grinned nastily, having decided it was best to skirt down the pathway just up a bit and to his left.
His pointing index finger swivelled around and became an upright middle finger as he limped carefully out of Amery\'s range (moving slowly in case the idiot launched another attack anyway), then dropping his arm altogether and heading for his desired course of escape.
-
No fucking way. He’d finally had a plan. He’d finally been ahead of the game. And this shitbag chooses now-NOW to go running off like a pussyfoot…! Un-fucking-believable!
The mix of rage and astonishment that welled up in Amery at the same time left him utterly speechless from his perch atop the tipped bench. He could only stare blankly down at the other Vampire as the red-head began to back away. Amery’s mouth might even have been hanging open…just slightly.
He was torn. One part of him was labeling it a victory, designating his rival a coward, and calling it a night. The other part was yelling at him that, since they were already playing dirty, why not say the fuck to retreat and throw in a couple of blows while the other seemed so… so… er
Though his vampiric senses were not as tuned as the other vampire’s, he too was now able to identify the thud of approaching feet. Footsteps moving quickly, and purposefully, in their direction. Gah fuck. He hadn\'t seen the crowd forming sooner because he hadn\'t been facing in that direction. But now, glancing over his shoulder, he couldn\'t help but feel very exposed.
Well this was just turning out to be a wonderful evening.
Leaping down from the bench towards the other vampire, confident he was too intent on evading security than taking advantage of their renewed level playing field, Amery pitted the other vampire with a glare than encompassed all the rage and bloodlust and betrayal and throbbing pain he was currently feeling. He couldn’t even think of anything to say: it’s not like Amery was the sort to reply to a comment like “We shall have to continue this later” with a nice “Yes, I guess we shall.”
Yeah, right.
Instead he just stood there, despite the approach of the mortal guards, despite the overwhelming desire to inflict bodily harm on the vampire now so close to him—despite it all, he could only stand there and stare for another moment or two.
The pointed finger that became a middle finger shook him from his trance. He swatted it away with a
“grow up,”
spoken through gritted teeth. Of course, he didn’t actually touch the other vampire’s hand. The distance between them had grown further as the red-head continued to back towards whatever he’d determined to be his exit. But the meaning was still present, even if his final swipe at his adversary was only a strike through the air.
Glancing over his shoulder, he chose the fastest route he knew: back parking lot exit. And as the vibrations of rubber soles began to round the nearest stalls, Amery grabbed for his hoodie and shirt and yanked it out from under the bench. Then, not even bothering to brush it off, he slipped the dusty clothing back on and did his best to melt into the gathering crowd. And as he slipped his way through the mortals, pulling his hood up as he went, he took the risk of spinning around, hands cupped, to shout back
“Balls, Indiana, balls!”
yeah, ‘cause I’ll fucking be here. Bitch.
-
Tom\'s retreat only hastened once the other vampire was out of his sight and he turned and ran as fast as he could for the cloakroom where his gear was checked. He found that he was easily able to dodge any security issues that might\'ve been aroused by their fight but that those parting words from the little upstart weren\'t nearly so easy to get around.
The little fucker had had the last word and may well have implied that Tom had no balls while he was at it; that would never do. His rage didn\'t diminish as he requested the cloakroom clerk get his helmet and jacket, it only grew. By the time he was suited up and back on his bike, the only thing he could clearly focus on was the kid\'s face in his mind, that parting shot and the very satisfying feeling he would get from cracking the little cunt\'s skull against something hard and unrelenting (like cement).
With renewed determination, Tom clipped the collar of his leather jack in place, fastened his helmet on and started up his bike. This time, it didn\'t roar to life, he allowed it to purr, for he didn\'t want any undue attention. He began wheelingsedately through the carpark to see how many exits there were to it, quickly finding that it snaked around and was rather larger than he\'d expected. Still, this was the hunting ground he\'d been graced with and his goal was clear; he intended to intercept the fucking neophyte scum and teach him a few more lessons before he let the little fuck go on his terms.
Balls would be optional, at that stage (for him).
-
Amery’s escape was a little more laborious. The shout-out hadn’t helped his anonymity much either—but it sure felt good.
After eluding the curious security guard who had decided to check the park in Amery’s direction, the young vampire had to settle for abandoning his original exit plan. Not because of park security, but because there was currently some debacle regarding a ‘misplaced’ parking ticket and a legit pig right outside the turn gate. And Amery didn’t really want to evade security by walking into the arms of one of the city’s finest.
So swinging wide around a particularly nauseating looking children’s ride, Amery looped back to the main entrance. It was a risk: there if anywhere he would be most easily stopped and apprehended. But to his pleasure and surprise he was not given so much as a sideward glance as he left the park. Sure, he had tagged along behind a group of Japanese tourists, but that really wasn’t saying much: Amery being a six foot Caucasian and all. Once outside the park boundaries he encountered no further resistance (if one could say he had encountered any at all) and so he relaxed and let his guard down some. At least as far as it pertained to mortals. Amery could think of one individual he wouldn’t like to stumble upon unawares. And that individual was posing a particular problem for Amery at the moment as well. Too intent on his verbal victory, he hadn’t really taken note of where the immortal had run off to. And that was a bad thing. Like not knowing where the poisonous snake was when you found its cage empty.
Still, Amery was not one to sneak around in the shadows. So, in typical human style, he wandered through the parking lot with an appearance of vague decisiveness: as though knowing he’d parked there, not knowing where, but not wanting to reveal this to anyone who might be watching. At least, that’s the look he was going for.
Really what he was doing was scanning for a suitable... ‘drinking fountain’. His head, through partially healed, was still throbbing a bitch. Not to mention his abs had taken to flexing occasional on their own accord, as if trying to purge themselves of the memory of being smashed into the rest of his internal organs. Fun night.
Spitting at the headlight of a red Ferrari rich fuck he wandered his way through the many, linked parking lots in search of something… someone… to dominate. Get a drink, then fuck ‘em up. That’s what Amery’s adrenaline pumped body craved. A fight he knew he could win: hands down--the end.
And his mind did not disagree.
-
Amery\'s delays and backtracking worked in Tom\'s favour, for it gave him plenty of time to complete a tour of the whole carpark and figure out he had four possible exits to keep watch on. They weren\'t close together, though, and the local constabulary were in attendance near one gate, meaning he couldn\'t go roaring from exit to exit until he found his punching bag.
Instead, Tom motored quietly down the aisles of cars, searching every face he saw, adrenaline ready to burst through him when he caught sight of any dark-haired male... until he actually saw the kid, that was. He came up behind him was why, Tom returning from an inspection of the far gates and identifying the hoodie of the fuckwit first. A minute later and he would\'ve missed the neophyte altogether, for he was well away from the exit and seemed to be seeking his car (which had to be at the extreme edge of the carpark, down towards the beach, if the signs Tom was reading in his body language were true) or... something?
Whatever he was looking for, Tom wasn\'t intending on letting him find it, because he had the advantage when he was on wheels - and coming up behind the less wary vampire made him easy pickings. Something told him to wait, though, and instead of charging, he put his feet down and cradled his bike in an idle, slotted between a couple of cars. Possibly it was the fact that a hit and run was too easy and Tom didn\'t roll like that; he\'d rather be facing the kid, somewhere where they wouldn\'t be disturbed, than strike while he wasn\'t looking. Plus, he was confident that he could also win a road race when the kid got into his car, so he was best to just watch and see what the little asshole did from a distance and pick his time better... so he did.
-
Amery didn’t have a car. In fact, he didn’t even have a license.
Not that either had ever stopped him from driving stolen cars before, whether on midnight joyrides or ‘grab and go’ chop shop deals. He didn’t do it often: in fact, he hadn’t stolen a car since he’d been turned. But this one was tempting… a badly customized black Mustang. Fancy enough that Amery had the desire to steal it for the hell of pissing off some rich-kid, but not so fucking high-brow that he couldn’t drive it around for a while and enjoy himself…and then wreck it for the thrill of pounding the low-ride off road at sixty-five. It wouldn’t last long, but it would be a thrilling few bounds…
But he didn’t take it, tempting though it was. Instead he kicked it. And it felt really damn good—it was like replacing one of those blows he couldn’t deliver to the other vampire with one that counted.
He was only intending to kick it once. But once wasn’t enough. So he kicked it again, for good measure. And then again. Then he punched down the hood so it dented, slammed a knee into one of the headlights so it cracked, and proceeded onward into an all out attack on the car. He broke the windshield with his elbow, nearly breaking his elbow in the process, lopped off the sideview mirror, ripped the door open and nearly off its hinges from sheer force and fury and a frenzy that had taken possession of Amery mind and body.
No alarm went off, as Amery had subconsciously figured—customize boy hadn’t know what the fuck he was doing and must have unintentionally deactivated it. And there was no one around (as Amery didn’t notice that his previous rival was nearby) for him to be wary of. He might have been making a scene, but this was the edge of the parking lot, overlooking tonight’s rough waters, and not an area where many people would simply—loiter around in.
Or, in Amery’s case, assault a motor vehicle in.
Breathless (Amery still clinging to human realities) and with bloody knuckles and more bangs and abrasions to add to his growing repertoire, he finally ‘ran out of gas’ to continue his one-sided battle. Still enraged, but no longer pumped with adrenaline, he collapsed down onto the asphalt in front of the mustang. Tilting his hooded head back against the silver running horse, he stared at the night sky and tried to collect himself enough to figure out where to go from here. A particularly thick drip of blood was slugging its way down one of his left hand knuckles. He resisted the urge to suck on it, knowing it would succeed only in arousing the bloodlust that was already becoming too much to handle. Much longer and he wouldn’t even be able to hunt. Especially if he continued on—he looked over his shoulder, contemplating the spider web pattern of shatter-less glass—in this manner.
-
Tom, watching from behind the anonymous blackness of his visor (it wasn\'t too dark at night for him to see through), was amazed at the randomness of the younger vampire. The kid was obviously a complete headcase, to take his anger out on a car... but then again, it wasn\'t like Tom had never done something similar. And, he smirked to himself, the neophyte had no understanding that he was still nearby and willing to have punches thrown at him instead.
When Amery dropped to the carpark, out of direct sight, Tom perked up, believing it was possible he\'d been spotted after all and that the kid was now crawling - commando style - along the asphalt in an attempt to escape his notice. He revved his bike back to life and skimmed closer to the wrecked vehicle, craning his neck as he went to try and get a look at where the kid might be escaping to (the helmet wasn\'t allowing him much panoramic vision, so he was turning his head rapidly and frequently, to be sure he wasn\'t missing anything).
He was, therefore, relieved when he came up even with the car, and saw a stray foot poking out to the side. The kid was still there, apparently sitting against the bonnet of the car, contemplating life. Stupid little fool, did he not have any defensive instincts? No drive to flee the scene of his crime? Did he want to be caught and punished that badly? Pompous dickhead... Tom was happy enough to oblige him, if that was the case.
As stealthily and rapidly as his two centuries of undeath allowed, Tom smoothly dropped the kickstand of his bike, turned it off, swung his long leg over it, pocketed the key and placed his helmet on the seat before he turned and strode towards his opponent determinedly. In his head, he played through the possibilities for attack, hoping the kid\'s reflexes would be even more exhausted now that he\'d wasted a shitload of energy on beating up the car. Then, his plan of rounding the car, getting a good fistful of hair to hold the boy in place so he could drop to his knees and straddle him (preferably pinning the neophyte\'s hands at the same time, but he was prepared to take a few body blows and use the hand not gripping hair to subdue any flailing fists) with a jaunty, "Hello again, bitch!" would be much easier.
It was what he would try to do, but whether or not it would come off depended entirely on how much warning his wooden-heeled boots gave... and how fast the younger vampire\'s reactions were, after pounding on an inaminate object for ten minutes.
-
As it were, Amery’s reactions were not particularly honed. He was busted, busted up, and had just busted apart a car. Not exactly leaving him with batlike senses and catlike reflexes.
Dipping his head and raising his fist (giving in to the temptation of the blood dripping down the back of his hand) were the only things that prevented him from being entirely at the mercy of a rival he didn’t even know was in the vicinity. The gasoline and rubber smell of the parking lot, the speed of the vampire’s approach, and the unfavorable wind direction all contributed to his ignorance…
and, in all honesty, he hadn’t really been paying attention—
—as the very taste of blood on his lips had him in a different dimension. He was young, after all like it or not. He couldn’t go nights without drinking. A night, maybe two. And this night was wearing on and Amery hadn’t drank since early the night before, and only a little bit then. He’d been more interested in punches than bites at the time. Now he regretted every drop he let spill onto the dry, parched cement…
And, so, suddenly having a vampire in his lap was not anything close to what Amery was prepared to handle. He heard a hand hit the car behind him—a missed punch? One of Amery’s hands was simultaneously pressure pinned to the rough ground under a very hard knee. Just like that. He was had.
And the only reaction that occurred to him, the only instinct he could go on with a bloody knuckle still cradled to his lips, was to lunge. And not with punches, but with fangs. There was no time for rationalization, and before Amery had any conscious control of his actions he was already throwing himself teeth first at the nearest exposed part of his attacker.
So instinctual and abrupt were his actions, that he didn\'t even have time for the smallest, mental Fuck
-
Tom blinked and laughed heartily as those fangs just about reached his throat, tipping his head back instinctively... while tightening his grip on the young vamp\'s hair. He obviously couldn\'t be too careful; the kid was descending into bloodlust by the looks. That was no fun, though, because it meant that any pithy comments they traded were unlikely to be remembered by the other (and would, therefore, go unappreciated) and it was Tom\'s turn for the final word.
"Easy, bitch," he chastised loudly, his free hand coming up to ward off the hand Amery had free (he was pretty sure it would come into play soon, and that they could easy play slapsies while he talked). For good measure, he slammed the back of the kid\'s head on the bonnet of the car, just to reprimand him for the snapping. "You don\'t wanna\' be making me any angrier right about now." He leaned some extra weight on the knee pinning the neophyte\'s other hand to the parking lot, to reinforce his point.
"Else I\'ll rip your fucking throat out and walk the fuck away from your stupid baby ass," he said through gritted teeth, all sense of joviality leaking out of his tone as he made this very real threat. His blue hazel eyes were narrowed intently on the handsome countenance just a few inches away from his own. "And I won\'t lose sleep in the morning," he hissed a promise (except it was a lie, because up close, this kid was even more unsettlingly like his past... and he couldn\'t willingly kill that).
-
Everything was fuzzy for Amery until his head, for the second time that night, slammed back into something hard. Same spot—really fucking hurt. But he held his tongue—hard enough that he caused it to bleed as well. The hand that had been at his lips was now hovering near his side, at the ready, a tiny trickle of blood still determined to obey the authority of gravity. It was the only weapon he had left, and he wasn’t about to lose it on an ill-timed attack. No matter how much he wanted just to reach out and throttle the red-head.
As the other vampire smashed Amery’s hand into the cement with even greater ferocity, the true gravity of the situation dawned on the yearling vampire for the first time. Though he would never admit to himself that running away was an option, it always had been the worst-case save-yourself plan. If all else fails, live to fight another day. Until now. This was different. He was thoroughly incapacitated. All he had now was one bloody hand and a sharp tongue.
And his sparkling personality.
“I tremble” he snarled. It ended, however, with the corner of his lips curling up into a mocking smile. “So the wolfhound ‘as finally pinned the newborn pup, yeah? Well bravo, it must have taken great skill for one of such…” he rolled the last word around in his mouth, before releasing it syllable by syllable “…seniority.”
All the while he spoke he was doing his best not the think about the hand entwined in his hair. That was something beyond pain. It was degradation, an act to show complete domination. It fired up Amery’s rage like nothing so far this night. And it took every bit of self control Amery had not to make any motion or expression such an anger. He knew if he did, judging by the nature of this shithead, it would be a weakness the other vampire would pounce on in an instant and to the fullest extent. So he kept his head as still as possible, and tried to focus on happier thoughts: like using his head to break the fucker’s nose, or throwing the red-head into oncoming traffic.
“Perhaps next time something more difficult—a lamb, maybe?” Amery’s gaze danced around the circumference of the other vampire’s pupils, searching for anything…something he could use. On the outside, his glare was cold and mocking. Though not to say that he’d disregarded the other vampire’s threats (no matter how true or hollow they might have been). Such danger was forefront in his mind. But his countenance, to the best of his ability, was a mask purely of anger and discontent —not alarm.
These days, there was no room for the admittance of fear.
-
"Fuck, you\'re a dumb cunt," Tom scoffed, amazed at the fact the kid just kept on talking bullshit, even though he was obviously in a losing position. His free hand stopped dancing like an ever-ready shield between them, because he was beginning to believe his own press (to a degree) and had faith the kid couldn\'t do anything to him. Well, except annoy the piss out of him, of course.
"Don\'t you know what happens when you play with fire, bitch?" he sneered, his face getting a bit closer to Amery\'s (there was a swagger to it, too, that any attitudinal African American woman would be proud to tout while running down a rival female with a loud, "Oh no you don\'t, girlfriend!"). His grip on the younger vampire\'s locks tightened accordingly because he wasn\'t stupid, even if he was feeling a little cocky, and he didn\'t want to give him any leeway whatsoever.
"You get... burned," he answered for himself, wrenching Amery\'s head back so that he could run his nose the length of the boy\'s exposed throat. Oh, how tempting it was to sink his fangs in and just rip a chunk out of that nubile oasis... but it wasn\'t part of his plans. Still, he made a show of inhaling as his face ran up the column a few mere centimetres from his nose, like he was scenting something beautiful. He hooted triumphantly when he reached jawline, squeezing the boy\'s face (hard) between the fingers and thumb of his right hand.
"Damn but you\'re new!" he guffawed loutishly, spinning Amery\'s head from side to side and up and down so that he could get a good look
not like Reed at all
just young, same colouring, same shape, muscle tone
fucking same attitude
fuck yeah
prettier than Reed, but
high cheekbones
lips that mean business... could stick a lot of shit between those beauties
he\'d bite
that nose needs breaking, anyway
at all his features. "Who the fuck sired you and let you loose? You should still have a leash on and be tied to that whore\'s side!" he snorted laughter, finding himself endlessly amusing. He had the grace to bring Amery\'s face back to a central position so he could reply, but he conveniently forgot to loosen his grip on the kid\'s cheeks and jaw, so anything he said would not only be distorted (which he would find excessively amusing), it would be a challenge to get out.
This kid had accused him of having no balls though; he deserved more than a challenge.
-
As patiently as he could, Amery waited through the cock-sucker’s egoistic mini-monologue. Which was to say he wasn’t being very patient at all, but rather had very little option for movement or speech considering he was being grabbed and turned and poked like merchandise. The only thing Amery hated more than a sore loser (and being manhandled) was a gloating winner. Especially when Amery was, as it currently seemed, the one who had lost. You’ll fucking regret this you cocky shit. Even though as he was staring skyward, feeling the vampire ghost down his neck, he felt that he was the one about to be regretful.
Rrrr…fuckin don’t think about the hair Amery.
It was almost a good thing that motherfucker kept talking, as it kept Amery’s mind on other things. Like how you have the stupidest lines, bro….Amery thought it to himself, but almost found it funny enough to laugh over. Almost. But he was too pissed to laugh at much of anything at the moment. And the pressure on his jaw was tight enough to ensure any laugh that came out would be more a joke on him than the vampire.
Being twisted, judged, prodded…It was almost more than he could handle. Until two sentences brought an idea to Amery.
"Who the fuck sired you and let you loose? You should still have a leash on and be tied to that whore\'s side!"
Right or wrong in his suspicion, it didn’t matter: In Amery’s mind he had worked it out.
Daddy wanted a baby. A bitch baby, could be, but nonetheless…it wasn’t really about physical domination. It was about property. Ownership. This son of a bitch was taking a risk, really, in throwing words so casually about another vampire’s sire. Who was he to know that Amery hadn’t been made by an ancient? Who’s to say that grandpa here wasn’t setting himself up for deep shit with a great-gran-daddy? These things hadn’t occurred to Amery before, but now they were starting to fall into place. This was more than a shout-out and a fight-off: he’d been targeted, and for the reason that he was…new. Someone new. Void filler. He could play this to his advantage, but he was going to have to be really fucking careful…
Now forcefully turned to face the vampire again, he caught the other’s eye and held it. He couldn’t have said shit, not really, and it wasn’t really Amery’s style to make an ass out of himself on purpose. Besides, he was instead moving onto riskier territory. And he was going to have to play this very, very carefully…
His jaw shifted under the vampire’s fingers. It hurt like a bitch on top of all his other injuries, and his already heavy fatigue, but he bit into a part of his mouth for the third time that night. Deeper, harder, right at the corner. The blood rose up in a bead, then a more consistent trickle. He didn’t allow it to drip back into his mouth. Blocking it with his tongue, the red streak began to explore the outside of his lips, then down to his chin, and slowly but surely, sneaking through the cracks of the vampire’s grasp and pushing over the curve of Amery’s jaw to trail down the line of the neck that the other vampire had paid so much attention to moments ago.
How that would go over, Amery wasn’t sure. He had an expectation, and a hope, but they were not the same. Tricky though it was, it was all had now. Brute force had failed, and now the only option was subtlety. And subtlety wasn\'t really Amery\'s area of expertise.
Though the blood running down his neck was the risky part, the more difficult part was moving his hand without loosing its liberty. Slowly, ridiculously slowly at first, the muscle in his arm flexed and his wrist began to rise. It was not a stealthy maneuver, and the very action seemed designed to draw attention. Slowly, he lifted it higher, not striking out, no fast movements… up he brought it to the vampire’s wrist. Slowly he moved his hand around the joint, taking hold, putting pressure, but so much that a fourteen year old girl couldn’t have gotten free from it she gave a good yank.
Amery was beginning to feel more out of sorts, namely because he was purposefully keeping the cut in his mouth open to keep the blood flowing out. He couldn’t see, as he was not going to look away from the other vampire’s eye, but he assumed that unless the blood had found a clear route down it must be an un-ignorable presence on the vampire’s grip now. Wet and warm: two sensations that, from Amery’s experience at least, were hard to ignore…
He gave a slow pull at the vampire’s wrist, a physical suggestion. Let go of me. Amery swallowed, the action of the muscles making the still journeying blood trickle dance on his throat under the halogen carpark lights.
-
At first, Tom was aghast that blood began to trickle out of the other\'s mouth. He suddenly got the notion that he was playing with more than a dumb cunt here; he was a rabid dog, mad with whatever was running through his veins. There was nothing to be done in such a situation, except shoot the hound and put it out of its misery.
Before he did, however, an entirely new thought occurred to him, that quelled the sneer upon his handsome face and had him looking more ruminatively at the neophyte; capitulation. Anyone willing to bleed themselves like that, in a situation such as this, simply had to be submitting. Frankly, the kid had no other choice, did he? No. So Tom decided that the lunatic idiot had finally seen the light and bled himself in the name of surrender.
Frankly, it was a lot more eloquent that vocalising it and something within him admired it. His expression slowly melted into a smirk. "Oh, I get it," he said softly, grinning rather sexily in his triumph, "I win. You surrender. You want mercy," he crooned, doing his own fair share of capitulating by loosing his hold on the kid\'s face (though he didn\'t let go of his hair), buoyed by the timid tugging at his jacket-covered wrist.
Momentarily, his gaze lingered desirously upon the line of blood leaking over the youth\'s chin and elegantly down his throat. It was almost exactly what he\'d wanted to do earlier with the headbutt... almost. That was the thing though, he decided as he looked back into Amery\'s eyes to fully enjoy his victory, it wasn\'t what he\'d wanted and even though the little prick had rolled over and shown the white of his belly just now, Tom had a strong need to piss on the wall he\'d knocked down, to kick when his opponent had already fallen, to nail the hammer into the coffin to bring his point home.
About that fire...
Without warning, he gave one final twist to Amery\'s locks to secure his head in place and then brought his hard forehead down with a loud, wet crack upon the other\'s nose. "Feel it burn, bitch," he snickered and, satisfied that he\'d definitely won this one, moved to rise gracefully to his feet and depart. He needed a snack after breathing in the aroma of all that blood... and he was in the mood for takeaway, so some woman out there was about to get very, very lucky.
-
That had not gone as Amery had expected. Or hoped. And he was really FUCKING PISSED ABOUT THAT!
The blood gushed out of his nose, the last thing he needed at that point. Tears sprang into his eyes unwanted and made his vision as clear as if everything was underwater. He barely noticed that he’d been released and that the other had began to move off, but his body unconsciously rocked forward to shield his face and pull away from the car that already had too much space in this night’s memory.
“Mother Fucker!” Amery shouted, blood leaking from his hand that had covered his nose and from the corner of his mouth, for now he really didn’t have the restorative power to instantly stop up the wound. Either of them.
He forgot entirely about all the other insults he’d been dealt this night by this good for nothing blood sucker. The words, hair pulling, low blows…none of them mattered compared to this. To hit a man while he’s down AND NOT JUST THAT but to SNEAK UP ON HIM, POUNCE ON HIM, PIN HIM DOWN, AND THEN WHEN HE CAN’T DO ANYTHING ELSE BUT GIVE SOME SLACK YOU FUCKING BREAK HIS NOSE YOU MOTHER FUCKER!
Amery was so enraged his arms were shaking. But he had nothing to throw, nothing to hit, nothing, nothing! Slurred by blood, he shouted the best summation of his feelings
“You’ve the least class of anyone I’ve ever fought! Go on, hit me again! I’m still down, you coward, why don’t you come back and nail me to a cross! That’s what you wanted, right--to crucify me! Destroy something beautiful ‘cause your world\'s so Ugly! Well c’mon, finish it then! I fucking dare you.”
and surprised himself. For many reasons. Firstly because there was only a single explicative in all six sentences. Secondly, because he really didn’t care if the he got his throat ripped out right now. Did he? If this was going to be his life for eternity, fuckers like this, centuries of being weak and vulnerable…no, fuck that. It wasn’t Amery style thinking. But Amery, the real Amery, was currently lost somewhere in the deluge of pain, fatigue, blood loss and bloodlust.
He tried to focus on the vampire’s boots. And he wasn’t sure now if his inability to focus was due to his teared-up eyes or his body shutting itself down for repairs. Repairs he didn’t have the power to make just now.
“Indiana,” Amery looked up, forcing his hand away from his nose and bearing his blood streaked face proudly (proudly?) for the other vampire to see. Yeah, marvel at your handiwork, but just remember “…dead or alive, I’ve got your balls for good now.”
It made perfect sense to Amery. But so did letting the other vampire rip out his throat and bleed him dry. So the jury was out.
-
Tom glowered down at the younger vampire as he was called classless, uneasily recognising that the insult - delivered cleanly and without profanity - was actually very, very appropriate. He\'d got carried away, let his big head get the better of him, allowed the adrenaline to take over... whatever the reason, he finally got the clue that he\'d done something fucking bad just now. Uncalled for.
Classless.
Ahh fuck.
He snorted as the kid continued to talk big, rabbitting on about his balls and goading Tom into finishing the job. Thing was, he wasn\'t interested in killing the little fuck, just in teaching him a lesson... which he\'d done, pretty much. Only thing was, he\'d gone too far and, looking down at the bloodied vampire (as he was now, since the kid\'s words had stopped him in his tracks), he could see that he\'d left his opponent in a very bad state indeed. He\'d lost a shitload of blood and was beginning to make very little sense (unless he did have a death wish, of course). The rabid dog analogy that had so recently occurred to him wasn\'t far off the mark.
Petulantly, the redhead glanced around, deciding he\'d have to make a gesture towards patching this. He hadn\'t intended for it to slip so far below the belt line, after all... there. His eyes narrowed as he spied a couple in the distance, heading vaguely in their direction, laughing and carrying an enormous stuffed toy each. Determinedly, Tom walked in their direction, weaving through parked cars like a hot spoon through ice cream and approaching them without warning.
Gathering himself as he stopped before them and the pair came to an abrupt halt, looking startled (the male gallantly moved himself slightly in front of his female, to protect her), Tom concentrated very hard on Dominating the two of them, first convincing the male silently that he should come with him to help him with his broken down car. It made Tom\'s mind pulse with the effort of it - doubly hard right now because he\'d exerted himself so much without any sustenance - but he pushed through it, having decided it was the right thing to do.
Something condescending within him sneered at the right thing to do bullshit, but he squashed it down. He lived selfishly and for his own fun, sure, but there was a code broken when he\'d attacked another vampire viciously; such malice should be reserved for mortals and demons only.
Five minutes passed from the time Tom left Amery to the time he returned with the couple he\'d convinced to accompany him. It occurred to him, on the way back, that in that amount of time, anything could\'ve happened. The kid could\'ve snuck off or he could\'ve got up and started to smash the shit out of Tom\'s beautiful bike (fuck that sent a pang of worry through the vampire)... or he could\'ve just stayed where he was because he was quite weak from bleeding himself (or being bled) and he didn\'t have the wherewithal to move yet. Tom hoped for the latter but, as he strode back with his new pet zombies, he was prepared for both of the former.
-
Amery had dropped his head after his final address to the other vampire. It was too much effort to hold it upright. Not that he was weak, or anything. He was just tired. Very, very tired of a very long night.
There was still blood in his mouth, and he thought about gathering enough to spit at the red-head’s boots. But, on second thought, he needed it more for his health than the other did for shoe shine. So he swallowed it. And waited. Waited for whatever was to come. But there was only silence. Silence, then the sound of clicking boot heels, and nothing. Amery looked up, and was genuinely shocked to find the mother fucker gone.
Gone, just like that.
He looked around, scanning briefly the landscape of tiny metal mountains from his position on the asphalt. Looking for the fire topped giant. But nothing. Amery, a million possibilities playing out in his mind for what he should do next, did nothing but sink down further to the ground. He rolled onto his elbows, stomach down, head down, trying to stop the blood from running down the back of his throat. He watched the thick red liquid splat in drops onto the dirty cement. Drip drip. He’d repaired the corner of his mouth, mostly, but his nose was still going. Drip drip. If nothing else he needed to stop losing blood before he attempted to find any to replacement. If he’d ever be able to do that. Which he doubted. But he would have to try.
With gritted teeth Amery made the attempt to drag himself up to his hands and knees. Can’t stay here. Now the blood drips had further to fall and they left little splatters on the insides of Amery’s wrists as they hit the ground. But Amery’s hands were already bloody, and the \'stickiness\' had already \'stuck\' a great deal of dirt and little rocks and grit to his hands. But it wasn’t appearances he was worried about. It was standing up. He had to get up. And it had never been so difficult in his short undead life to do so.
One knee pressed against the asphalt turned into a foot. One hand went from the ground to the abused bumper of the black mustang, the grit and rocks on his hands scratching against the metal. Then the other foot. Then the other hand on the dented hood. It was an agonizingly slow process, but Amery managed, step by step, to push and pull himself to a standing position. His nose had finally stopped bleeding (mortal speed—supernatural powers my ass) but that was about all the reconstructive work his body had so far managed. He didn’t even want to think how cracked and swollen his nose must look.
He was going to kill that dickhead…
Which was exactly the thought going through Amery’s mind when he glanced up to find himself accompanied by two dazed looking mortals. And that dickhead.
-
Tom manoeuvred himself behind his mortal gifts once he returned to the car and found the other vampire moving so sluggishly - once he got some fresh blood into him, the elder knew that the younger would be fresh and invigorated... and perhaps ready to start more shit and get some revenge. At least if the snacks were between them, Tom would have a few extra milliseconds to move and they would be enough to evade a sudden attack.
"You look like shit. Drink. Both if you need them but from him at least; you won\'t get out of here whole, otherwise," Tom advised succinctly, indicating the male of the mortal couple with one hand. Truthfully, all the extra damage this mental work was having on him would be neatly overcome by drinking from the woman but he wouldn\'t qualify his apology by offering only one. The male was bigger and would therefore have more blood, being (potentially) more fulfilling as a snack than the woman, but if the young vampire wanted the woman (or both), he certainly wouldn\'t complain.
An apology for his final act of violence was dancing about his tongue but he couldn\'t bring himself to voice it; instead, he stood there and waited for his offer to be accept or rejected, trying to appear nonchalant about the whole thing by fiddling with the metal spike going through the top of his ear.
-
Amery looked from the glazed eyes of the two humans, to the vampire, to the eyes of the human male (who stared back at him with all the intensity of a mannequin.) He tried not to show it, but even being this close to the throb of mortal heartbeats was sending fire through his veins. Want that. He had all the mind to simply grab the man by the jaw and plunge his fangs into the undefended neck skin without further questions. He didn’t particularly give a shit what this was: apology or trick. By the look on the faces of these humans, Amery could well have believed the red-head and pumped them full of poisonous goodies just to watch the blood deprived fledgling squirm once he broke the flesh.
He wasn’t gone long enough.
And then there was the thought of being lost in blood-trance in front of one who might easily take such an opportunity to…to….do something low
Bullshit-shut-up-and-drink-before-you-fall-over…who gives a shit why, and if you don’t drink you’re dead anyway because there’s no way you’re making it back to the beach house without blood, and there’s no way you can hunt as you are as you can barely stand…
Amery didn’t usually think so much about…anything. Fighting, maybe, but that’s because it was strategy as much as strength. You had to think about it. Maybe this was still part of the fight. Maybe that’s why it was taking him so long to choose: between something he wanted so badly, so very fucking bad, and
“and whose fault is that,” Amery said with a growl. But it wasn’t a growl of anger so much as bloodlust. Though his eyes were locked onto the other vampire’s, he was moving away from the car and towards the man. The closer he got, the harder it got to focus on the undead face behind the lusciously warm mortal body. But he didn’t look away. He was gunna watch that mother fucker.
As long as he could at least.
Amery was breathing like a mortal, like one trying to calm down after getting into a shouting match. He took another step closer, arm and torso muscles tensing and releasing, tensing and releasing (not that it was visible under his hoodie). One more step and Amery’s body was pressing against the mortal’s. A shockwave of want hit him harder than a punch and
Don’t fucking look away
he reached up and took the stubbly jaw in his grip, pressing against the heat of the mortal body as it were the only thing that mattered
it was
and turned the mortal’s head so that as he could bring his lips down to the glorious flesh and still keep looking that red-headed, cocksucking, mother fucking son if bitch in the eyes the entire fucking time
blood
Though Amery’s gaze had locked on the vampire’s, the rest of his body and senses had focused elsewhere and were now beyond his beck and call. He yanked the man against him with another hand at his back, his body rocking forward as his fangs ripped into the throat. It was not a clean bite. And Amery didn’t care in the fucking least. For as soon the dark, gushing liquid hit his own throat he was catapulted out of human emotion and into a reality of primitive, aggressive, lustful, and violent passion.
Blood. It was all there was, and all there ever would be, and all he ever needed. Though he was still staring at the vampire, there was no longer any recognition of anything except the ecstasy of feeding.
-
"Gee, I dunno\' how much help we\'ll be..." the mortal male had said once they reached their destination, his eyes falling to the destroyed Mustang. Tom had been watching the other vampire and realised belatedly that he needed to keep a firm handle on the mortals, otherwise their bonds would break; he simply wasn\'t very good at the mental stuff because he\'d never given it a lot of his time. Now the guy was beginning to break out of his hold because the story he\'d used to initially put the pair \'under\' wasn\'t feasible.
When Amery bit, Tom was busy weaving instructions into the minds of the woman so she didn\'t freak out at her boyfriend being attacked - it was easier to control the male once he was under the neophyte\'s spell, for even though the first few moments of penetration were painful, the drinking was extremely pleasant and the effects drugging enough to keep him under control. Although he kept an eye on what was happening with the two males, Tom was most focussed on the woman, standing close to her in case his magic broke and she screamed or ran.
He didn\'t know whether the younger vampire would need both mortals but he wasn\'t about to let the woman simply flee because he\'d use her if not. He glanced around the parking lot while the little shit drank, checking that no-one else was about to crash their little party.
-
He looks nervous.
Amery thought when his eyes were finally able to focus back onto tangible things. It was the first thought that came to him after the initial bloodlust resided, though it was not the most important.
The most important thought was not really a thought at all, but a feeling. Feeling the tingling sensation of his body repairing itself: cuts and cracked skulls and broken noses all went into restoration overdrive. There would be no evidence. Like it never happened. And this pleased Amery, very much. Combined with the satiation caused by such a swift and heavy feed on such an ‘empty stomach’, Amery didn’t know whether he wanted to jump up and down or fall asleep. He was groggy and hyper, invigorated yet pacified.
Stubborn, yet compromising.
His lips bobbed languidly against the mortal’s throat. The cuts he’d made were deeper than they should have been for a feed, and they didn’t clot very fast even once Amery stopped drinking. Amery wasn’t really sure if they would clot up at all, actually. But he couldn’t do anything about that now, as far as he was concerned, so he merely pulled away long enough to let the blood begin to drip. Then he took the escaping droplets into his mouth and combined them with the countless others that had already met a similar fate. The mortal didn\'t seem too concerned either: that, or he\'d gone unconscious. Amery wasn\'t sure. If he was fully supporting the other, he hadn’t noticed it. He was probably still conscious…yeah, most likely.
And no poison. Not a trick--so far at least.
It might not have been a fair trade, all in all, but it squared off well enough. Like it never happened. At least physically, and for Amery. Only then did the red-head really figure into the youngling’s consciousness. He was going to look up to find the vampire’s eyes, only to realize he’d been staring at them the entire time. This surprised Amery somewhat, as did the female standing next to the other vampire. Where had she come from?
The details from the time the other vampire had broken his nose, to the present, were foggy. It had happened a few times before, but had never much mattered. But this time Amery found himself trying to recall every last detail. He knew that the presentation of the mortals hadn’t been a white flag, but rather more of an olive branch between the two vampires. But he only remembered the male, and he couldn’t recall how the other vampire had brought them here. Or when. Or what the fuck time it was.
Still nursing at the wound he’d made on the human’s neck, Amery watched the red-head to see what he would do now. He wasn’t sure what the other was waiting for, or what he was planning on doing with the female, or why he was hesitating from doing whatever he was going to do to the female…or if he really was hesitating or planning on doing anything to her at all.
Actually, he didn’t really give a fuck.
He was sated, mended and his body tingled with new found strength and confidence. Not to say he really felt up to repeating the whole ordeal, or getting assaulted again, but if that was the price of a free meal than so be it. If the other was buildling him up just so he could knock him back down, well... so be it. Amery may have lost fights, but he\'d never walked away from one. Not yet.
There’s always a catch, Amery. And there’s always a bluff.
maybe.
-
Tom frowned, looking at the messy exit the younger vampire had made from the mortal\'s neck. Sensing he was being observed sentiently now, he looked at the kid with that expression. "If yer\' not gonna\' kill him, you should bite your lip or tongue or somethin\' and stop that bleeding. And heal that crater you made," the redhead added almost as an afterthought, wondering again how much training this kid had had.
After glancing at the wound once more, he was distracted by his own desire for sustenance and glanced at the female he was working hard at keeping quiet. The strain was beginning to show as she fought the trance she was in, when seeing how much blood there was on her boyfriend\'s neck. He needed to feed to recover from shit. "You gonna\' need to drink from her, too?" he asked succinctly, planning to step in and do it himself if Amery declared he\'d had enough.
-
The bite the lip thing was entirely new to Amery. It had never occurred to him that he could use his supernatural restoration powers on anyone other than himself… without turning them into a vampire that is. As he contemplated this, his expression almost took on a thoughtful air. Almost.
But Amery didn’t really do thoughtful. Not visibly, at least. He didn’t really to subtle either.
So he stared at the female for a full three seconds, letting his eyes wander over her dazed… glazed… rather stupid expression. He didn’t get it. But he wasn’t about to reveal the extent of his ignorance. If he could help it. Looking back to the other vampire, Amery shook his head--no. Well supplied, he was more interested in what the other vampire was about to do than stuffing himself further. Well, he figured he knew what the red-head was about to do… but, still, there was something odd about the whole ordeal.
And by that, he meant the whole ordeal.
With eyes still on the other vampire, he lowered his lips back to the mortal’s neck. Slowly he found the same, recently healed spot on the corner of his own mouth—for the sake of mockery—and emphatically pressed one of his fangs against the soft pink tissue there.
Though who he was mocking…
-
Tom wasted no time in securing his quarry once told that the young vampire didn\'t require anything more for the time being. He snaked his left arm under hers and wound it around the bitch from behind, before hauling her up against him. Not hesitating or willing to force the mental strain he was under to continue for any longer than he had to, he knitted the fingers of his right hand into her hair and wrenched her head to the side, baring her neck and leaving her staring at the other males from a very strange angle indeed.
She mewed a protest that wasn\'t formed with proper words, her mind being released from the redhead\'s hold as he relied on the natural sensation of drinking to soothe her. His entry into her vein was slick and professional despite his tiredness, and he bit her deep so the blood would fill him quickly; he loved it when it splashed up over his top row of teeth. He drank heartily, senses attuned to her heartbeat to listen for when it faltered, blue eyes lifted towards the other vampire simply because he couldn\'t trust him.
The feeding was quick because he\'d bitten so deeply and when the blood slowed, Tom bit the tip of his tongue, pressing the point of it into the punctures he\'d made in the soft, mortal flesh. Once he felt them closing again, he released the female\'s head and then used the arm wrapped about her waist to spin her to the side. He didn\'t want anything blocking him, for he believed now would be the time the pup would attack the old dog again... if he was still so inclined.
With eyes narrowed slightly at the other vampire, Tom jutted his chin forward and lifted his head upward, in a silent, questioning gesture and a subtle declaration of assurance. "We cool, then?" he demanded evenly. It was as close to a verbal apology as he would come, because his gesture had been obvious and the kid seemed better off already. He just wanted a final word before they parted company permanently.
With his own renewal, he then glanced at the couple nearby and gave them both a mental shove that saw them stumbling off together, clutching their large toys dazedly and looking thoroughly befuddled about what had happened to the guy\'s car. He wasn\'t skilled enough to wipe or alter memories but he knew, from experience, that their recollection of the events that had just transpired would be foggy enough to protect the identities of both vampires - and their existence itself, for that matter.
-
Amery felt the holes he’d made in the mortals neck close up under his tongue. How very…convenient. A whole new realm of possibilities was open to him now.
As he watched the other vampire feed, it occurred to him that never had he seen such an act. He’d done it, hundreds of times. But he’d never watched another vampire drink. And watching the red-head, he wasn’t that impressed. Not that the other’s feeding style didn’t impress him. Rather, that watching another drink wasn’t that… interesting. It was exactly how he imaged it would look. And there was none of the intensity he felt when he drank; he was the observer now, and though intrigued, he was no longer enraptured.
Surely if he’d seen another feed when he was empty of blood, well, he might be a little more inclined towards stronger emotions.
Done with the mortal, he released him. And promptly forgot all about him, until a short while after when the two humans went scuttling away. It was so weird. They behaved like trained dogs, yet appeared at the same time to have no idea what was going on. He didn’t like it when he didn\'t understand something, so as a solution, he stopped thinking about it.
Amery leaned back against the hood on the smashed car, sitting on his hands and displaying much the same body language as the other vampire. His own head was tilted to look up at the blue eyes, trying to decide what he thought about the vampire that owned them.
“I’m cool,” Amery said calculatingly “and we’re settled.”
A grin tickled at the corner of his mouth, the same side he’d bit so many times this evening. It was not a full grin, not even a smile, but a hint, a suggestion, that once those same lips had laughed.
“But as for you being cool…” the corner of his mouth twitched visibly, but he held back the teasing smirk, tsking instead as his eyes did an exaggerated once-over of the vampire “…it’s gunna take more than the boots, Indiana.”
To solidify his comment as mocking, but not threatening, he thumbed at his nose… as though to scratch an itch… tracing down the currently unflawed, unbroken length. Like it had never happened. But as Amery traced back up the cartilage to where it meet between his eyes, he was making a below-the-radar admission to memory
Yeah, yeah, bitch. I won’t forget it.
-
Tom\'s eyebrows raised and he allowed an inward litany about just how fucking cool he was to unroll - but he wasn\'t about to say it. That would be severely uncool and also not his style. He allowed a snort of derision to be his argument and swaggered over to the kid with thumbs hooked through the loops of his jeans. When he stopped, he was pretty well inside Amery\'s personal space and using all six feet and five inches of his height to intimidate as best he could.
"What\'ll it take, then?" he demanded, opening himself up to any challenge that could be thrown his way. His head flicked again, daring the other to do his damndest, state his worst-case scenario stunt or exhibition that would earn him the title of \'cool\' in the other\'s eyes. He didn\'t see it as him scrambling to impress the other so much as test his imagination and hope he was given something interesting to do with his time instead of mope around the house thinking about Reed or riding his bike too fast up and down the coast.
Frankly, the fight had been the highlight of his night and anything that promised continued excitement in such a manner was alright by him.
-
There was something odd about allowing an individual who had just broken your nose to come so close again to your person. Willingly. Amery lowered the hand touching his nose, sliding it back under his ass as a barrier between it and the night-cold metal of the black mustang. Of course, he wasn’t doing it because his ass was cold. He was doing it because he looked fucking cool when he did. He thought. And apparently, even in the eyes of Indiana, what he thought had some weight.
Even if it was just a game. If it was.
A miracle he had the craving to say. But it was too contrived. And untrue.
“Less effort,” he said with a dead straight face: a countenance acting as an obvious mask to shield his inner opinion that what he’d said was pretty fucking clever. And accurate. But even so, that wasn’t really his answer. He tipped his head back to look at the night sky. It was relatively cloudless, but even so the stars were few and dim. He took a deep breath, marveling that ‘air pollution’ meant absolutely nothing to him now.
Amery’s arm muscles flexed as he pushed himself up and off the car. He loved the feeling. The muscles, the veins, the roll of the shoulders… wonderful. Now standing up, the space between the two of them decreased further. He stared at the red-head a moment longer, his brows slightly furrowed in typical Amery fashion.
“What will it take…” he tasted the question. He had no idea what the fuck it would take. Time? An feat of daring or accomplishment? A new shirt? Amery shrugged with his eyebrows, then responded with something that maybe, just maybe, could have been called a small grin: “What’ve you got?”
-
Tom snorted derisively, his head tilting back arrogantly on his neck as he made out he was thinking about the question - which he was, but not as hard as he was pretending he was. His main accomplishments were easy to list off by generalising (thankfully, because his fucked-up memory didn\'t allow him to recall specifics).
"Lessee... " he drawled, eyes tilted angelically skyward. "I\' got climbing Everest - twice - and parachuting off Victoria and Niagara Falls - cleanly a few times, swimming and crashing too many more. I got skiing virgin snow on the Alps every northern winter since as far back as I can remember and climbing outta\' three avalanches while I was at it. I got B.A.S.E. jumping off Taipei 101, the Sears Tower, the Petronas twins, the Almas Tower - fuck, I got too many towers to count, actually," he grumbled, realising he\'d done an awful lot of climbing and jumping off buildings around the world.
He frowned slightly at the kid as he tried to think of every other cool thing he\'d done. "I got gliding in Rio, I got scuba diving in Australia, I got driving fast machines on the Autobahn. I got scaling the Pyramids of Giza and wakeboarding across the Aswan Dam. Hell, you name it, I bet I\'ve jumped it, swum it, flown over it or landed on it in my time... which is why I ask what it\'ll take," at this, he smirked cockily, leaning down a little to look in the younger vampire\'s eyes directly, "in your opinion... because I don\'t have a lot of challenges left and I wanna\' know what you reckon you\'ve got... since you think you got my balls and all," he sniggered condescendingly, obviously not believing Amery\'s claims were worth anything.
-
Damn.
It couldn’t be denied that Indiana\'s resume was impressive. Part of Amery wanted, even, to recognize such accomplishments as contributing to the coolness factor of the red-head. The other part of Amery, still in one-up mode and with a badly bruised ego, wanted to spout off every reason why those things only made the other vampire more of a rich, reckless fuck than a cool cat. The two sides tugged for a moment, and then settled somewhere in the middle, leaning slightly more to the latter... slightly more than slightly more to be slightly more precise...
“Lessee…” started Amery, imitating the red-head’s previous drawl “what I’ve got? Not nearly as much money, apparently, to prance around in exotic countries jumping off buildings and climbing mountains and shit. Noope, ain’t got that” Amery held up a flat hand and imitated knocking his pinkie finger down. “What else—how about immunity, grampa: takes a lot of balls I’m sure to jump off a waterfall if you know your gunna heal right back up again once you get mashed against the rocks. Slight risk, of course, but seriously…that shit’s mortal cool mostly. For us, bro, it’s just a good time…” he knocked his thumb finger inward to his palm to hold down his pinkie, leaving three digits standing.
“What else…” Amery didn’t suggest anything further, he just touched the vampire’s lips once with the back of his three fingers, and then dropped his hand. “You see, that’s where we’ve got a problem,” he said, returning Indiana’s gaze “\'cause you’re lookin at me thinking what kinda danger I got, which you can leech outta me, because you’re right—what challenges you got left? How the fuck old are you anyway? What the fuck haven\'t you done? Problem is, for me, every thing’s still dangerous--no effort required. Around every corner I turn, every step I take, hell, every bench I sit down on...” he smirked. “So see, while you go scouting around for risks and challenges, I just open my arms and they fly to me,” He spread his arms in imitation and tilted his chin back, looking not unlike the other vampire’s earlier crucifixion pose.
“You want a challenge: I’m the fuckin challenge. Because I’m what your not. I’m young, and reckless, untainted” he gave one short laugh “and dangerous...” Amery stepped forward, his arms dropping and his hand reaching out and gripping the vampire’s blue jeans along the top seam near the button, giving a weak pull towards himself “and I sure as hell keep my promises.”
Despite the proximity of Amery’s hand to the balls that had so brazenly claimed to ‘got,’ his gaze and body language seemed to lack the sexual energy that his gesture might have otherwise implied. His gaze was stoic, his posture more relaxed than it probably should have been...for a number of possible reasons...
-
Tom\'s upper lip lifted into a derisive sneer as the kid did a bullshit job of countering his statements. He couldn\'t help but look at the finger and thumb as they were lowered, or snort at the Jesus Christ pose (second time \'round, no less) when it was flung at him, but his eyebrows did nothing but climb skyward when a hand just about touched his cock. He reacted instinctively, giving the younger vampire a very firm shove in the chest with the flats of his hands.
"Fuck off, homo," he jeered, trying not to think of Reed (yet again), or what he\'d done with him. It didn\'t pay to dwell on those thoughts or give any more attention to this disquieting little move by the loudmouth... best to move on. Quickly. "I have maybe a couple thousand dollars to my name
because I actually just invested it all in a nifty little house here in this city, you smartass prick - but you don\'t need to know that
so you can shut your mouth about being rich. I\'m not. But I hang with a bunch o\' guys who are and they got enough to not notice how much of a drain on their finances I am. You just gotta\' play smart, kid, \'stead of waiting for everything to come to you," he mocked, that lip curling up again. He smirked, finally realising that the young vampire was full of shit and really not worth
yeah, best to get the hell away now... he\'s just all sorts of too close for comfort now, ain\'t he?
his time. "You got nothin\'," he announced austerely, hooking his thumbs into his jeans pockets. "But keep on thinking you do. Later," he bade cockily and began backing in the direction of his bike (which wasn\'t easy considering they were still between parked cars, but was doable considering he didn\'t want to take the chance of turning his back on the vampire again).
-
The red-head’s shove left Amery back against the hood on the busted up mustang. But instead of using his hands to catch himself and then launch back at the vampire, he used the momentum to slide his ass and the rest of his body up the near-flat hood of the car. Experience was a good teacher. He then lay back against the windshield with his hands behind his head, his legs crossed at the ankles—just to complete the image. And instead of immediately calling up his limited powers of witticism to throw something back at the vampire, he just started to laugh. If nothing else, it bought him the time to think of something to say.
“Oh-ho!” he grinned “Someone’s a bit touchy about touching, eh—what’re you afraid of Indiana? That I’m gunna get’cher balls for good?” Amery drummed the palms of his hands against the roof of the car “Homo, then is it? Did that word even exist when you were made? What’re you so worried about? You think I want some of that?” Amery shrugged his brows to indicated the other “I was just keeping my word. I\'d keep it still, but you seem so squirmy all of a sudden.”
Amery was no longer laughing, but he was grinning. A little. Enough. His insides were jumping; he’d finally found a foothold, a back door, a crack in the fortress wall. And it pleased him greatly: almost as much as the reason amused him.
“And you say I got nothing? Maybe not, my nose-breaking sexually-unsettled non-friend: I certainly don’t have a couple grand or rich fuck friends I keep around for their greenbacks, that’s for sure. I don’t got fancy boots, or a couple hundred years--or a fear of balls, for that matter,” Amery spit at the car next to the mustang “Fuck off, homo—he says. If you believe it, Indiana.”
Amery chuckled.
“You know what I think ‘dangerous’ is? I think it ain’t jumping off Taipei for an adrenaline rush…” his voice fell to whisper “It’s keeping your balls when a situation fucks you over. It’s not backing away from shit that scares you… it’s not doing things at your speed.”
Once Amery had started talking the words just kept on coming. His confidence was strengthened as he began to puzzle out the other vampire (whether or not he was puzzling correctly was beside the point.) Which kept his mouth moving. He wasn’t sure what the result would be: more physical violence, more verbal abuse from either side, it didn’t really matter. Amery didn’t really care—he was freshly fed and feeling his oats—and after all the night was young. He was young. And the young never fucking care.
“So go on, zoom away on your compensation crotch-rocket, run fast and fall faster,” Amery shrugged “but there\'s gunna be no later... unless you come looking for me, and for what reason I can only imagine…”
He lifted his hips mockingly and re-settled them on the car at his last words, taking his hands from behind his head and hooking them in his pockets to mirror the red-head.
He\'s afraid of something. Not me-not fully. Something else... someone else. There\'s something I\'m missing...
-
It unsettled Tom greatly that the games he\'d played on Reed were now being whimsically turned upon him, to his great discomfort. It unsettled him that the kid looked a bit like Reed, but acted like him. It unsettled him that every time the little fucker opened his mouth, his Goddamned feet stopped walking so he could listen! It was hard to tell who had the problem here, him or the kid; first he\'d decided a fight would be a good idea, then he\'d gone too far, then he\'d decided a chat would be sensible (because he\'d surely come up trumps) and now he saw what a stupid mistake that was.
But he couldn\'t fucking pull himself away! In fact, if he wasn\'t mistaken, his boots were taking him closer again, as that little come-hither crotch lift registered and set off a seismological reaction through his core that reverberated in fury throughout his body. The words... the actions... they were quivering throughout him like aftershocks but he was suddenly too mad to focus on any of it and instinct had taken over.
He took a running leap that might have looked something like he flew up onto the hood of the car to anyone watching at a distance, landing surely on his feet and taking the slight step forward that was necessary to bring the sole of his right boot down on the loudmouth\'s exposed throat - the pressure would not be slight, either. "You should learn to shut your fucking mouth and quit while you\'re afuckinghead sometimes, cunt," he hissed through gritted teeth, leaning down towards the kid\'s face. "I oughta\' squash you like the fucking bug you are right now," he threatened, considering doing just that... but the pressure beneath his foot didn\'t increase and the words would have been very obvious false bravado to Amery.
-
Violence it was then. Amery couldn’t have said he was surprised. In fact he had been expecting it.
wanting it… no. maybe
It was barely a second and Amery was staring up at the vampire’s crotch, with a rubber tread pressing bits of grit into his neck. The pressure wasn’t exactly pleasant either. The metal groaned underneath Amery as the already dented exterior attempted to distribute the weight of the two of them, failing, and instead another small dent was formed on the hood near the red-head’s foot. The one that wasn’t suffocating Amery.
You can’t suffocate; you’re dead you dumbass, you don’t even have to breathe…
Once Amery stopped trying to breathe, although the pain in his neck was substantial, a certain mental discomfort was lifted. He didn’t have to breathe. He didn’t require air, not really. And he was flushed with blood, anything the vampire could inflict on him... well, maybe not anything. More than a man, but less than a god. And Amery knew that it wasn’t beyond the red-head’s ability to play dirty, even if he did compensate for it in the end. So he was not beyond the capacity of fear. Amery might have gone just a little too far… this time, like all times.
But then there was nothing.
An eerie quiet, with the only sounds being that the occasional squeak from the Mustang. Prone, entirely vulnerable, and staring up the red head, Amery just managed to croak out
“do it”
though he wasn’t sure if he meant it. He didn’t think the other would do it, but there was always a chance. His hands had instinctively gone to the vampire’s foot when it slammed down on his neck, but there was little his (although formidable, of course) strength could do. He let go of the fancy boot he’d recently mocked, taking more than a bit of willpower to do so, moving his hands away palm-down along the hood of the car, even though doing so further increased the pressure on his neck. He could feel the blood pound in his head.
I still don’t understand.
-
Tom stood there - hovered there - for another age, peering at the glinting eyes of the boy below him, feeling an odd connection to him despite the fact that he hated him purely right then.
hate\'s an emotion borne from passion... sure you hate him
He was practically shuddering with anger but couldn\'t bring himself to finish the annoying little fuck off (as he had so many other annoying fucks in his existence) and he didn\'t know why and that was when he realised the fury was directed at himself and it was quiet and the bitch was goading him with his eyes and his whispered little words and he didn\'t know what the fuck to do, except that he had to follow through with what he\'d been doing and leave.
"As if I\'ll ever fucking do what you want, bitch," he snapped and withdrew his boot, thinking about spitting in the boy\'s face but managing to hold back. He stood to his full height and merely sneered down at him instead. "Wipe your chin. The shit you talk is gonna\' leave a stain," he advised gruffly, glowering at the stranger when really his thoughts were turned completely inward and he was examining his own emotions yet again. Why the fuck did this kid get him so riled up that he couldn\'t seem to walk away? Couldn\'t keep his head, couldn\'t even fucking think straight either, so far... and made him feel bad enough about a victory that he went and made amends.
What was wrong with him? And why the fuck couldn\'t he stop this BULLSHIT INTROSPECTION?!?!
He spun on his wooden heel and stepped gracefully off the car, like any normal man would step off a gutter (unless the kid did something like grab him, of course). this time... this time... he would walk away, could see his bike and was making a beeline for it, nothing would stop him, no matter what the little cunt spouted off, nothing...
-
Pinned by a boot and a formidable glare, Amery could do nothing but stare back. And wait. Not his favorite options in any circumstances. But somehow, this time….it was okay?
maybe
Amery, though he tried not to, couldn’t help but cough when the boot was removed from his throat. He couldn’t say anything for a moment, as the tubes and muscles and ligament things all shifted back into their appropriate place in his neck. The pressure removed, he half rolled onto his side, a very instinctively mortal move, allowing the unneeded air to rush into his lungs at greater velocity. He wasn\'t gasping, of course, but he was making a slight display of unnecessary actions. It would take him more than a year to break a survival instinct millions of years in the making and after 19 years of required practice.
He heard the click of the heel on the cement, and the shifting of the mustang as one of its oddly positioned passengers climbed out... off. He looked up to the vampire, his body repaired, all aches and even the slightest pains disappeared, and watched still with a strange feeling in his gut as the red-head withdrew.
You’re a weird fuck, you know that?
He couldn’t say it out loud. He couldn’t say anything out loud. Nothing was... good enough. The red-head says: “As if I\'ll ever fucking do what you want, bitch” and what would he say? You already did—maybe? That wouldn’t fly. “Wipe your chin. The shit you talk is gonna\' leave a stain” and then what? Nothing worth saying came to mind. Though for this one, at least, he probably should have been able to think of something.
Shifting his body on the car top, he hung his head over the side above one of the front tires, watched the now upside-down/sideways-tilted vampire recede. It occurred to him that, when this was all done, he would probably just steal the black mustang and drive it off a cliff. Or something. Maybe into the sea. End its misery.
Go diving. Swim down to where it was so dark that he couldn’t see and the pressure so intense that he couldn’t breathe with his ears threatening to pop their drums, muscles smashed into bone and bones prodding at internal organs smashed in to close. A plan for the evening.
"You breakin up with me, Indiana?"
Amery took a deep breathe of the polluted city air, mingling with those fresh sea breezes that managed to make it inland without being strangled by gaseous debris. His hair stood on end, head upside down, smile looking more like a frown, a slightly visible boot mark on his neck and ghost of a blood streak down his throat and around his nose
"because I really thought we had something here."
pulling up one knee he imitated the voice of a whiney sixteen year old girl
"You bastard!"
and managed to keep a mostly serious face. Mostly.
-
It took gritting his teeth until a muscle jumped in his jaw and balling his hands into fists to do it, but he eventually got to his bike. He kept his back to the idiot while he pulled on his helmet, checked his jacket and withdrew gloves from his pocket to put on. He swung a gallant leg over the machine and sat upon it in a pose that was unconsciously sexy (though he\'d done it often enough to know how it looked) while he got his gloves on, flexed his leather-clad fingers and started the bike.
Triumphantly, he realised he was just about home free as he revved the engine and rolled forward... until he was level with where the young vampire\'s head was hanging
oh... no.... no... uh... nonononofuckingNO! Don\'t stop now! Just go! Little prick\'s trying to keep you talking, just flip him the bird and
over the edge of the car, looking
get the fuck out of here. Clean and jerk, buddy, clean away from the jerk and you won\'t be sorry!
in his direction. He paused again, coolly flicking the visor on his helmet up with
what the fuck did you go do that for?? He\'ll just suck you in further, drag you down and make you regret it... Christ you\'re a moron
his left hand, while his right held the bike at a steady purr and smirked condescendingly at the other undead (though it likely didn\'t carry as more than a squint to his eyes, given how his head was mashed into a helmet).
"You\'re headed for a fall, bitch. A sharp one. It\'ll make you look fondly back on \'what we had\' and wish you could relive it a hundred times over, instead of what the Oligarchy\'s gonna\' do to you once they get the smell of your crap. Don\'t say I didn\'t warn you when you\'re up to your neck and in need of rescuing. Find me at sixty-six Pandenning Court when that night comes; I\'m not saying I\'ll help you but it\'ll sure as fuck give me something to laugh at," he snickered before flicking down the visor and pulling out of the car park with a roar.
You stupid cunt. You just gave him your address.
What
the
fuck.
-
The bike looked very strange upside down. Like a metal praying mantis… on wheels… kind of.
Amery’s mind had already begun to drift away. He’d won, hadn’t he? More or less? So what more did he have to think about the red-head? What did he care if he got in his motorcycle and rumbled off into the oblivion that was the nighttime city—what…did he care?
Did he care?
meh…yeah. No. I dunno.
He watched the visor flick down, the practiced motions, the way the vampire was more part of the bike than he was separate from it. At least upside down.
What the fuck is the oligar—
But the momentary question was thrown away as his mind latched onto a new bit of information
sixty-six Pandenning Court
and lolled the address around in his brain with rapt attention, but lacking an idea what to do with it. Where to put it, store it, remember it or hide it? What an interesting turn of events, all in all, and now it was over with a roar of the motorbike and an empty parking lot, and it wasn’t over because
sixty-six Pandenning Court
there is another chapter. Maybe. If Amery decided... needed? Rescuing, he said. No. Maybe mischief… maybe. Boredom. Need… no. maybe.
For another hour or so he hung over the tire of the dented black mustang. He wondered why the kid who owned the car had never returned. He wondered if he was in a bathroom somewhere, fucking some chick, or maybe in a gutter because he ran into someone like Amery or just another punk kid looking for a fight. Someone like Amery... then.
He didn’t actually care. And that didn’t bother him. He found it amusing in fact how he cared more about the fate of a piece of metal and rubber and upholstery than he did for a flesh and blood human being. What did that mean—what did that make him? To care about the inanimate and the undead and not about the living.
Fuck if he cared. Why the fuck was he even thinking about it.
He swung his legs over the side of the car and got to his feet, yanking open the already lopsided door and forcing it shut awkwardly behind him. He fiddled for a minute with the old wiring, teasing the engine until it shuddered awake. Amery rooted around in the glove compartment, back seat, looking...yup.
He pulled out a nearly empty pack of cigarettes, packed them in, pulled one out, and lit it with an anarchy stickered lighter. He took a deep drag, rolling down three of the windows and knocking out the rest of the one he’d already cracked.
Watching the smoke curl out into the night air, Amery eased the car out of the lot, turning in the opposite direction as the motorcycle, and then took off down the coastal road, speed ever increasing, displaced metal and fiberglass rattling, and Amery waiting, holding steady, turn and straightway after turn, watching the numbers go from 40 to 50 to 60 to 70 to 80, waiting, looking for that one turn that would take him from the pavement to the sea…