The Local Tong

Lammergeier · Master of the Universe Joined: 28 Jan 2007 Posts: 151

(As it was before, my straight copy-paste lost all the formatting except for the stuff on mine at the end--all the special treatments have been lost to the sands of time. Sad

)
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(seg by Draftwood)
5:00am

Too early for any real night-owl to be waking up. A return, well that's a different story. It would be dawn soon so perhaps a retirement from the past evening's goings on was appropriate. Joe wasn't weary but he knew that there was nothing he could do while the sun was out. Day brought with it too many intangibles, too many variables that couldn't be controlled. It just wasn't smart business.

Nothing discerned the building from those around it. Just another dilapidated derelict. Old brick walls just like the rest, out-bowing windows across them all, and roofs of tar and rocks. A common sight in any industrial area, in any major city center. Most of the windows of his building we either blacked out or too caked with grim that it was hard to discern a light source coming from within. It was therefore equally impossible to make out an inhabitant. Just the way he liked it.

He arrived soon enough, and deactivated his security system. "No need for that now, I'm home." He thought to himself. Joe was often overconfident of his abilities, but having grown up the way he did, you had to have such a mindset to survive. The gear was still in the trunk, and more importantly still dirty from the job. After driving into the main promenade, he got out of the car. The sun was just starting to creep above the horizon. Joe moved quickly to remove the locks from the side of what appeared to be a giant rectangular drain. The grilled metal was actually his clever way of… (ok tag team, some one else’s turn to wrestle)

Lammergeier · Master of the Universe Joined: 28 Jan 2007 Posts: 151

(seg by Jaydeman):
...concealing the entrance leading into his private refuge.

The shade of the building still protected him from the harsh rays of the fierce sun. Joe smoothly grabbed his gear from the trunk and tossed it into the darkness of the drain. As the shadows began to quickly shrink, Joe slipped into the entrance and closed the drain with a loud metallic clang which reverberated throughout the dark hallway. A few quick motions, and the interior locks engaged. With another fast flick of his wrist, the hidden steel shutters sliced down and locked into place.

With a breath of relief, Joe retrieved his gear and trudged his way down through the darkness, unmindful of the skittering noises of the insects and rodents that populated this part of his fortress. Monsters such as he had little to fear from vermin.

It was not an easy lifestyle, Joe mused as he tread effortlessly through the black labyrinth. There were only three things he had to be careful of in his life. Well, four if you counted lawyers. The first was by far and large the most irksome to deal with, the Order of the Sacred Blade. The second was discovery, as the world would never tolerate such monsters such as he if they knew he even existed. The third was temptation, as it would lead to both discovery, and the convergence of the Order when they learned of his new location.

And it was temptation that was the hardest for Joe to hide from. He sighed loudly into the darkness as he paused and tripped the incadescent floodlights above him. It was always hard to ignore the flaring of crimson plaid when he was on a job. With a grunt, he let the weight of the long gear bag slump to the floor. The sound of the zipper being undone was loud in the silence and terminated with the soft thump of the schoolgirl's body spilling out onto the cold floor.

Smoothing back his shock of long raven hair, he knelt and felt for her pulse. Easily finding the faint pulse, he grinned to himself, a toothy gleam of fang the only hint of what he was.

And as he leaned forward to feed...(continued by someone else!)

Lammergeier · Master of the Universe Joined: 28 Jan 2007 Posts: 151

(seg by Lammergeier):
...From the luscious, spongy Twinkie that was sticking out of the pocket of her proper Catholic-school skirt, he could barely supress the gleam of lust in his eyes. His trembling lips caressed its soft exterior before his fangs plunged home; a shiver ran through his body as the fluffy cream filling hit his tongue. Truly, the frosting was the life. More....MORE...

"Joe, what the FUCK are you doing??"

He started in shock, totally fumbled his attempt to close the bag up again, and then realized that he was sitting in the middle of an otherwise empty room with his undead roommate and some KOd fat kid. The white stuff that was smeared all over his chin was some seriously damning evidence. Even then, he couldn't help but salivate when he smelled the pack of Ho-Hos that the chubby teen had hidden away in her other pocket. They will be mine. Oh yes...they WILL be mine.

His interior monologue was interrupted when Mick--known among the swank vampire elite as "LeJeune"--walked over to him, grabbed him by the scruff of the neck, and gave him a good slap across the face. "What do you think you're doing?"

"...Preying on mortal cattle?" Joe suggested.

"No. No, no, and no." Mick's Victorianesque Goth garb swooshed dramatically as he turned and pointed at his roomie's victim. "Joe, you're a vampire. You're supposed to be the epitome of hot, sexy, and downright devilish evil. But what do you do after the cruel eye of God descends, and leaves the world to we badass children of the night? You whack chubby Catholic schoolgirls over the head with shovels and suck the lard out of the middle of their Hostess cakes. What is WRONG with you??"

"At least this one's a virgin," Joe pointed out. "Don't they taste better?" This girl's Twinkie had certainly been much more enchanting than that of the boy that he'd snagged a couple days ago. He suspected that the guy had let his snack go stale--a truly unforgiveable crime, for one so young.

"Yeah...when you drink their blood like you're supposed to." Mick slapped him again. Joe was well aware that he lived a alternative lifestyle, by the standards of other vampires, so he was used to getting tossed around by now. Hell, even if they knocked his fangs out (like those guys at the club said they were going to after he'd read that steamy poem about nougat at the open mike), he could still keep on doing what he was doing. He'd just have to use a straw instead.

"Why am I still living with you?" the older vamp asked the younger, as he pulled a lacy handkerchief out of his velvet sleeve and wiped the frosting from Joe's mouth. "Why haven't I stabbed your useless ass with a nice piece of oak and gone my merry way, rejoicing in my eternal beauty?"

"Because your girlfriend kicked you out and you're too broke to have your own place?"

"...Thanks for rubbing it in."

"Well, you asked."

"Joe, Big Brother LeJeune is going to do you a great big favor. I'm going to clean you up and turn you into a properly sinful nightspawn, in exchange for your generous offer of housing. How's that sound?"

"Uh..." Suddenly, there was a knock at the very distant front door, which the duo's sensitive vampire ears were able to easily pick up.

"Who is it?" Mick asked, throwing his voice with his incredible vampiric powers.

"Acme Undead Pest Control!" a gruff voice bellowed in reply. "You guys got an infestation problem?"

"Oh shit," Mick sighed, draping the hanky dramatically across his eyes. "The Sacred Blade is here, and I'm stuck with my loser roomie who sucks on Twinkies to stay alive. My unlife is one great long tragedy."

Two or three of the narrow, black-painted windows shattered far off in the underground lair; soon after that came the sound of heavy boots hitting the concrete floor. Joe looked at his friend and said, "Does this mean we're going to die?"

"Oh, probably. At least we'll die beautiful. ...Well, at least I will. Perhaps I should compose a sonnet about death now."

"Why don't we use my secret weapon?"

The footfalls were coming closer by the second. "You have a secret weapon?" Mick asked him.

"Sure," Joe replied. He walked into the next room and unlocked a beat-up foot locker near his coffin. Then he dumped its contents out onto the floor, revealing...

Lammergeier · Master of the Universe Joined: 28 Jan 2007 Posts: 151

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…a 16 inch hunk of steel that clamoured to the ground and made its presence known to all with a resounding echo. LeJeune smirked. A soft chuckle and a smile that might have broken his bored ranting. This was just another day… Mick shrugged his shoulders up and let out a sarcastic cackle, tilted his left brow up snobbishly before throwing his arms up in the air, palms open snapping his loose sleeves outward. He gazed skywards, to the disgusting sewage that draped the brick above him - blocked his view of the beautiful blue skies.

a sonnet to the blue skies...

He made his way to the men in front of him. He lowered his gaze from the left slowly to the right. He counted three from the order, dressed all in black fatigues, with a large silver cross painted across the front of their armour and their large 8” wide silver collars. They each held a small machinegun in their hand, and on them were four bright silver bayonets.

Mick walked slowly at the point man, each steady step proclaimed itself and tore into the tension - it ripped into the polluted puddles of water beneath him. Mick stopped 6 feet from his first opponent, then suddenly hunched his body forward, both open palms to the side. “Sssah!” He jokingly hissed.

He was answered with a hail of bullets from the first enemy.

“OH HOW BLESSED MEN WALK THE EARTH’S SPLENDOR.”

The flank put their weapons up and made their way to towards opposing walls, in order to maneuver more room in this already cramped space.

Mick pointed his left index finger upwards and closed his eyes. Swerved his body to the right and spun effortlessly around the barrage of fire as easily as a ballerina could. The acolyte’s eyes widened, but it was too late, LeJeune was already behind him. The monster leaned backwards and whispered to his ear.

“TO DREAM OF HAPPINESS, BUT LIVE WITH RANCOR.”

Mick tucked his left foot around the acolyte’s ankle, and pushed on his lower back, crumpling him forward face first into the dark toxic sewage.

The other two enemies pressed the stocks of their weapons onto their shoulders and aimed as their comrade removed himself from the line of attack.

He breathed in... before pulling the trigger.

The red brick resonated as the lead splintered its already grotesque appearance – Mick didn’t stop and leapt up in the air, spinning like a top, smiling arrogantly all the way. Just as flies see us mortals move in slow motion, so could he see the petty bullets whiz by as if they flew through quagmire. Hunched his body in the air, tilted his head to the side, as easily as a simple girl would walk in the park. He continued to twirl and landed to the left wall, just a leap away from the second man. Mick put his outstretched arms wide to the side to balance himself - ever so softly and slowly unbent his knees to a stand.

“BUT WHAT DOES IT MEAN TO ME WHO LIVES FOREVER?”

The monster was in front of him, he thought – and it had happened at an instant. The machinegun’s muzzle still pointed skywards from the full automatic fire. The scene stopped. All he could see was Mick’s comrade point towards him with a playful smile.

The 11 inch bladed war cleaver that had already once been broken in half was already in LeJeune’s hand, it's long red tassle enveloping Mick's body in spirals - flowing behind.

The world stopped, he exhaled...
What was most important to him, his mind drew a blank.

The room shook like thunder and slowly began to tilt to the side as if he had been attacked with vertigo. Up until the end he didn’t realize that his upper torso had already been separated from the rest of his body.

“GREATNESS TO LOVE SOMETHING YOU CANNOT SEE…”
LET’S STEAL HEAVEN FROM THE SKY.

Mick looked up from his montage and swung his head to the sides in disappointment. The last man began to retreat backwards.

A breeze drifted past LeJeune – Joe was in full sprint, dragging the coffin that was attached to his waist by chains as if it had been made of Styrofoam, sending waves of water sidewards in his wake – beads of water floating...

His pupils tightened and his vision widened - to the cloudy room, then to a blur of a beast dragging the coffin. Then back to the man who flirted with him with his coy gaze...

In a final panic, the third man reached into his vest and pulled out a silver…

Lammergeier · Master of the Universe Joined: 28 Jan 2007 Posts: 151

(seg by Jaydeman):
...pocketwatch which gleamed and glittered in the low light. He swung it gently back and forth, whispering loudly into the blood-scented air.

"Follow the watch," the Sacred Blade murmured as he slowly raised it to eye level as it swung. "You are getting verrrrry sleepy..."

The Blade's mantra was cut short as Joe swung the wooden coffin down upon his head. With a horrific crash, the coffin smashed the last Blade into a pulpy mess while shattering in a cloud of wreckage and splinters.

"WHERE,"Joe intoned, looking down upon the fallen man as he used his best Voice of Doom. "WHERE'S THE CREAM FILLING?"

As the clouds of dust settled, LeJeune scanned about, confirming that no more enemies were close. He turned back to Joe, shaking his head.

"No style, man." LeJeune said, shrugging finally. "You've got absolutely no style. The idea is to hit them with the ultimate truths."

Joe sighed. It wasn't easy...being cheesy.

"Look, Joe..." LeJeune started, then halted. "First off, you need a properly dark name."

"What's wrong with Joe?"

LeJeune's glare was enough answer.

"Well," Joe replied, cocking his head to the side in deep thought. "How about...er...LeJoe?"

A piercing female scream shattered the air and made LeJeune's slap halt in midair. He groaned loudly and then fixed Joe with another steely glare.

"My Twinkie!" the girl sobbed.

(someone else take over please)

Lammergeier · Master of the Universe Joined: 28 Jan 2007 Posts: 151

(seg by Sniperboy):
"I have HAD it with this!!" Mick finally let out. His tone apaprently revealed more than a slight annoyance, reinforced by his fist hurtling itself sidewards into the tattered brick wall, bashing a three foot crater in it.

The girl's eyes widened as she tried to scamper back, dragging her bottom across the icky ground, the muscles on her legs and arms refusing to move in concert, making her look like a lame dog.

Mick was already behind her, he easily grasped the girl from the back of her neck and heaved her 5 feet into the air.

"Nnn.. no.. w.ww...wait.. KYAAAA!" she was already in motion as LeJeune whipped her in midair like a rag doll and propelled her towards the ground.

"WAIT! MICK!" Joe shouted.

Her world screeched to a terrifying halt, she didn't know where to place her trembling hands as a flurry of panicked thoughts raced through her mind. Her brain just switched off and she was unable to stop herself from wetting herself in fright.

Her nose was an inch away from the concrete. Then she finally snapped and began to flail limbs in all directions, screeching like a marooned octopus. "YAA! KYAA! HELP MEEEE!"

LeJeune curled the side of his lips in disgust, lifted his stare to his grinning comrade, then down at the squirming cockrach in his hands. He looked up again, the look on his face begging 'please LET me kill her'...

Joe hunched his hand behind his neck and chuckled. "Hehe.. please Mick? Don't kill her."

In helpless, unquenchable frustration, LeJeune's left fist rose and trembled. He tossed the girl to the side and just looked away at something to destroy to make him feel better.

"NNNGGGAARRGHH!!!!!" LeJeune roared, in constipated anger - if there was such a thing.

He spied movement from the side of his eye. The first holy blade was still alive. GOD DAMN!!! He looked up and rolled his head, cracking his neck - a little bit of annoyance and maybe a little bit of sadistic anticipation.

He made his steps known to his quarry, making sure each beat was slow and dramatic. The girl only watched and couldn't do anything. He bent over and reached for the man's extremely large silver collar and lifted his half conscious body up as easily as he did the girl. "Damn collars."

WHAM! LeJeune swung his whole arm in a no holds barred baseball pitch and drove the acolyte into the brick wall as nonchalantly as if he had driven a walnut to the table. WHAM WHAM! Again and again he drove the poor man into the brick until his head was nearing a pulping mess.

When the collar finally showed some cracks he presessed two thumbs into the small crevice and slowly began to break the mechanical bonds that protected the man's neck. It was a total pain indeed, but LeJeune had all the time in the world and all the nihilistic lust at his disposal.

Joe's brows crumpled in fright, it was NOT a pretty sight.

"Uhm.. Mick.. don't you think you should..." Joe began.

Lammergeier · Master of the Universe Joined: 28 Jan 2007 Posts: 151

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"Read the instructions on the side?" Joe finished, pointing at the text on the side of the collar.

LeJeune snarled and cocked his head the side, reading the instructions. His lips moved wordlessly.

"To open, press along perforated line and twist counter-clockwise. This collar has been designed to be child-proof to avoid accidental lockage and unlockage. Made in China."

LeJeune screamed, lifting his head and baying towards the ceiling. As the echoes faded down the hallway, he hefted the corpse to his shoulder and tossed the body against the corner, ignoring the spatters of blood that flecked his black velvet jacket. He spun again to face the girl.

The girl, however, had crawled to Joe and was huddled about his right leg, shivering and moaning to herself as she attempted to vanish from view.

Joe, on the other hand, was defting unzipping her pocket, trying to get at her baked goodies.

"Ho-Ho little Ho-Ho's," Joe sang to himself as he fished the edge of the wrapper from the girl's pocket. "Come to me my little friends."

LeJeune strode over, his normally pale face still flushed with anger. The chubby girl whimpered and clung tighter to Joe's leg, but no to avail as LeJeune grabbed her by the scruff of her neck and raised her into the air. She could only kick in wordless terror. A high pitched whine emanated from her choking throat.

"THIS?" LeJeune asked in a growl. "THIS is what we are hunted by the Sacred Blade for?" He shook the girl violently in the air.

Joe took a step back, the package of Ho-Ho's forgotten in his right hand.

"For fat chicks that carry Hostess products in their pockets?" LeJeune asked again, nearly shouting.

He reached up with his other hand and slowly, deliberately, tore the girl's head from her neck. Her squeals of pain suddenly shut off as a gout of hot scarlet blood spurt forth, covering LeJeune in its steaming stickiness.

"Mick!" Joe pleaded, holding his hand out in horror. He noticed he was still holding on to the Ho-Ho's. "Oh cool, I've got the Ho-Ho's!"

The body, still pumping blood as the limbs quivered, dropped to the floor as LeJeune released his hold. His other hand still gripped the head of the girl. He raised it and turned the face towards Joe.

"This is the reason we should be hunted, LeJoe," he intoned solemnly. "The spill of the blood, the fullness of the bite, the warm sticky candy that is the pulse of life, flowing..."

His words cut off as he noticed Joe wolfing down the last of the Ho-Ho's.

"Well, that was awesome!" Joe crowed, now strutting about as the sugar rush filled his bloodstream. "Sun should be out now, I'm going to knock out and get some Z's."

Joe turned a critical eye over LeJeune's bloodstained form. "You should take a shower, man."

***

End Chapter

(someone else's turn)

Lammergeier · Master of the Universe Joined: 28 Jan 2007 Posts: 151

(seg by Yuusuke):
High above on the city streets the last rays of the day's sun slowly slid away from the top layer of the mortal world, and down below in the vampires' small bachelor pad Joe’s eyes slowly fluttered open, a wide yawn stretching out across his face as he wearily shook himself out of bed. He was still smacking his lips as he waltzed over to their makeshift kitchen area and shoveled a couple scoops of cheap grinds into their “Mr. Coffee,” preparing his mug to the side by filling it halfway with chocolate syrup (for that extra morning “kick”). His own mind percolated with his drink as he slowly worked himself out of his slumber and into the new night, and without warning his residential partner suddenly shuffled out at a snail’s pace into the room, the expression on LeJeune’s slack jawed face making him look a lot more undead than usual.

"Good morning!" said Joe cheerfully. “Man, don’t you look cranky.”

“NNnnngggghhh,” replied Mick, glaring at his roommate half out of fatigue and half out of bitter spite.

“Are you still worked up over last night? Tell you what, why I don’t I go and get some breakfast for us, my treat. Crispy Cream has these great deals on midnight runs these days. Did you know that you that you can get a half-dozen bear claws and some glazed for only---“

Mick abruptly snapped out of his zombie-like state as he began pulling at his hair in frustration, his murderous eyes desperately tearing away from his companion in an effort to keep himself from ripping the man’s head from his shoulders on the spot.

“Dude, chill out. I know you’re not into the sweet stuff. Maybe I can pick you up one of those college kids I’ve been hearing about. They’re supposed to be nice and juicy on the inside, but apparently you also have to watch out for the ones with foreign substances in em’. I hear it makes for bad indigestion.”

However, LeJeune was already upon him, both of his bloodshot eyes sparkling with the frenzied gleam of a man on the verge of sanity, his fingernails biting into Joe’s shoulders as he held his roommate still in a powerful deathgrip.
“This stops today, Joe! No more fat schoolgirls, no more pastries, no more late-night calls from exterminators because you were busy pilfering sugar-laden sweets from unsuspecting cattle! If the Order of the Sacred Blade is going to crash our suite, then they’re going to do it for the reason that they were meant to do it! Because we were busy taking our rightful place in this world! Because we are fulfilling our own honor by exhibiting our superiority over their frail human selves! Because we---“

He abruptly stopped as his friend took a hurried moment to bring his coffee mug to his lips, a thick layer of Hershey’s concentrated sugar mix coating his upper lip as he eagerly (and somewhat meekly) poured the viscous substance down his throat. Mick could already feel his body shake with fury at Joe’s blatant disregard for their own existence, and with a mighty “UUURRRRYYYAAAAA~!!!!” he brought his fist smashing down on the unsuspecting Mr. Coffee with all his might, rendering the innocent beverage maker apart in a single blow.

“Hey!” said Joe, looking forlornly at the hail of plastic splinters. “Now we have to get a new one! Dude, if you’re going to set around breaking stuff on a moment’s notice, we need to set up some better ground rules. I don’t think I can stand having you as a roomie if you’re going to resort to violence every time things don’t go your way, that’s just not cool.”

Mick simply ignored him as he adjusted his grip on Joe’s pajamas and dragged him close to his face.
“Why have java when you can have something much more fulfilling?” he said. “I think you just don’t know what you’re missing out on yet, and that’s why YOU will not be going out to get us breakfast, but rather US. And the first thing that we’re going to do to make you a semi-respectable lord of the night is...”

(/puts this fic in a figure-4 leglock and tags in--- (insert name here)!)

Lammergeier · Master of the Universe Joined: 28 Jan 2007 Posts: 151

(seg by Sensoo):
“…Hell, I don’t know where to start…” Mick uttered with disgust. Joe blinked a few times before lifting the syrup bottle up to his lips. “GIVE ME THAT!” Mick snatched the container and tossed it across the room.

“Hey…” Joe whined, his lower lip trembling slightly. “That was the last bottle…”

“Shut up, Joe!” Mick snarled. He paused, assessing how that sounded. “Joe? A vampire named Joe?!”

“There was a boy named Sue…” Joe replied thoughtfully, chocolate syrup dribbling down the corner of his mouth.

Mick tensed. He could have staked Joe right there, but instead, he inhaled deeply and carefully released Joe. Joe knew enough to stay put, but he could not help looking around for a sweet in reach. A solitary piece of saltwater taffy lay invitingly, almost forgotten, on the floor.

“ ‘Joe’ will not do! ‘Joe’ is not a noble, intimidating, or otherwise impressive moniker. ‘Joe’ is a name given to lower class humans who do not possess the ability to overcome their innate monosyllabic grunting.” Mick glared at Joe, who had retrieved the taffy and was already gleefully unwrapping it. “…But I must say, it fits you perfectly.”

Joe nodded cheerfully, “Why thank you. My mom gave it to me.”

“Your mother needs to be slapped,” LeJeune muttered caustically.

“Huh?”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full.” Mick inhaled deeply and ran his fingers through his thick lustrous hair. “Josephus, I suppose we could call you Josephus.”

Joe nodded, his tongue out, trying to reach that last bit of chocolate staining his chin…if only it were a little longer…

“Uts ong ith leo?” Which translated to “What’s wrong with LeJoe?”

“…There is no hope.” Mick massaged his temples. “LeJoe…Bloody Hell. Well, at least put emphasis on the last syllable and try to say with a sophisticated accent…we’ll come up with something better.”

Joe couldn’t answer very well because he was trying to pry the pink taffy off of his canines.

Mick studied his roommate a bit more critically than usual. LeJoe had terrible posture, unruly black hair, no sense of style, no common sense for that matter, and his pajamas... Bright happy purple lobsters waved at Mick from Joe’s green pajama bottoms. A sky blue YMCA shirt clashed back.

“You need to stop dressing like…like…like that.”

“But what’s wron- ”

“What isn’t?” Mick crossed his arms and glared back, formidable in black silk pajamas.

Joe began to snicker. “You’re missing Queer Eye, aren’t you? I knew it! You’re such a flame- ”

“They’re called “metrosexuals,” Mick snapped defensively. “And I’m not a metrosexual. I am a lord of the night; I feel inclined to dress the part.”

“Dude, you look like your entire wardrobe is from Hot Topic.”

“Not everything, and look at you! I don’t know where the Hell you’d get clothes like that!”

“Goodwill,” Joe said cheerfully. “They have the coolest things. You should come with me sometime.”

“…I enthusiastically decline.”

“There are books you can read, assuming you can read… Anne Rice.” His voice held a slightly dreamy lilt. “ …Watch Nosferatu, Shadow of the Vampire, Buffy, but pay close attention to Angelus.”

“You’re so bossy; no wonder your girlfriend kicked you out,” Joe sulked.

“Fuck you.” Mick glowered at Joe. He stormed out, but promptly returned, carrying two well-worn copy books. “Interview with a Vampire comes before The Vampire Lestat. Read them. I’m going to get someone to eat.” He shoved the books into Joe’s arms.

“In your paj-”

Ignoring Joe, LeJeune stalked out

“Get more chocolate syrup!” Joe finally managed to call out. Forgetting about his chocolate-crusted chin, Joe contemplated his next actions.

Lammergeier · Master of the Universe Joined: 28 Jan 2007 Posts: 151

(seg by Jaydeman):
Mick paused to change into his street vamp clothes. A pair of soft leather pants, buttery smooth against his skin, complemented a dark maroon velvet shirt and a long black leather coat. Leather boots completed the outfit, but he added glittering ropes of platinum chains and charms, inset with dark rubies. The ankh earring his last girlfriend had given him finished off the look, and he headed outside.

It had apparantly rained during the day, and now the moonlight reflected off the damp asphalt. The industrial side of the city was typically barren at night, but Mick loved the smell of the musky oils and rust that permeated the sector. Clouds of steam and smoke billowed against the dark horizon and a light fog sprawled across the street, giving each streetlamp its own muzzy halo.

"I," Mick though, getting into persona. "I am LeJeune. LeJeune."

His stride lengthened as he padded his way through the night. His raven locks flared behind him and his long leather coat flapped in the breeze. LeJeune was on the prowl. Hands tucked into his pockets, he stopped at the intersection and licked his thin lips, tonguing each of his fangs with anticipation.

A car passing a few streets over roared by, splashing an alley cat and sending it yowling in the darkness. LeJeune smiled, laughing to himself as the squeak of rats scattering in the darkness met his ears. On the move again, he searched side to side. It was only about one o'clock in the morning, there had to be someone around...

"Hey, baby," a husky female voice purred from a dim corner. "Where you going?"

LeJeune stopped and turned, giving the woman his best feral grin as he appraised her. She wasn't bad at all, he thought to himself. Long blue hair framed a face dominated by a pair of grayish blue eyes. Her sensual lips were full and moist, slightly parted as she breathed heavily. She was wearing a tight white halter top, obviously bra-less as her large heaving breasts pushed against the damp fabric. A short red vinyl skirt and red pump offset the paleness of her skin.

"Looking for a good time, ma petite?" LeJeune asked, smiling and inclining his head as he walked towards her.

"Always, baby." She looked down, demurely, but tilted her soulful eyes up to gaze at him. A coquettish smile lingered upon her lips. "You want to party with little ole me?"

She inhaled deeply, arching her back subtly. Her mischievious eyes sparkled as he stepped in closer. He leaned in closer and whispered into her right ear, nuzzling her sweet scent.

"Anytime, mon minou." he replied, and teased her earlobe with his tongue.

She shivered, despite the warmth of the humid night and stroked his chest through his velvet shirt. Slowly grinding her hips against his, she pulled him towards him as they leaned against the brick wall of the building.

"Fifty dollars," she breathed, the need shining in her eyes. "For you, forty, because you're so beautiful."

"After," he replied, raising his hand to carefully fondle her breasts through the moist halter top. He stimulated her nipples carefully with light pinches as he slowly laid small kisses along her neck. "I want you right now..."

His erection now ground through his leather pants against her skirt. She gasped as he reached under her skirt to rub at her panties. His electric touch ran white static through her knees, making her feel weak. No man, she thought desperately to herself, had ever made her feel quite like this. There something so manly yet so smooth about this guy...he had a panther's grace and the looks of a fallen angel.

"You're wet," he grunted, rubbing his fingers against her and bringing more gasps of pleasure from the woman. She could only nod, her breath now bordering on moans as she frantically unbuckled his belt and unzipped the black leather pants.

Her touch as she brought him out of his pants only served to harden him even further and he lost all patience. He raised her skirt up past her hips and tore at her panties. They ripped off as she let out a small scream that turned into a low laugh. The laugh erupted into a loud moan from both LeJeune and the woman as he entered her, forcing her against the wall.

He withdrew to the very tip and then resheathed himself in her warmth with slow, deliberate strokes. He was breathing heavier now, his breath panting in time with her moans as she scratched down his back in spidery motions of lust. LeJeune shoved her up higher and harder against the brick wall and ripped her halter top up to her neck, baring her large shapely breasts as he considered to thrust. Bending foward, he grabbed a supple breast in one hand, kissing and tonguing a nipple as his other hand snuck around her to grab her smooth left buttock and pulled himself deeper into her.

The were covered in sweat and shadows, animalistic grunts hanging in the air about them. Their tongues met in a fierce kiss as he let her breast free to grab her right buttock. They pumped together, faster and faster, grinding against the wall as they fucked savagely. He could feel the heat in his body build as the tension in his loins flared higher and higher.

And as they erupted together in a primal cry, he leapt forward and sunk his sharp fangs deep into her exposed jugular.

Her cry of lust changed to that of confusion and fear and her hands spasmed, caught between pleasure and pain. Her body still shook from her powerful orgasm and his mouth took in her lifeblood as his own member expelled his seed.

"The circle of life," he mouthed against her neck as he sucked her tangy life from her. She tried to struggle, but he slammed her against the wall again, pinning her arms with his hands as he drained her. Crimson streaks appeared, washing down her neck and soaking his collar. He thrust forward again, holding her in place with his groin and continuing to grind against her, feeling her warmth below compliment the warmth of her blood above.

Another car passed nearby, the bright halogen headlights passing tantalizingly close to the couple, but then passing them by and veering down the side of the alley to disappear into the long night.

(tag, you're it!)

Lammergeier · Master of the Universe Joined: 28 Jan 2007 Posts: 151

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Surely, nothing can be sweeter than this, Mick thought to himself as the whore's red-hot life drained down his throat, fueling the unholy power that maintained his body. He cradled her corpse tenderly, his cold skin eager to drain the last of the heat from her body, but the perfection of the moment was marred by an odd...shaking sensation. No one was around, he was certain of that, but... An earthquake? Here?

MICK? ARE YOU OKAY?

The voice seemed to come from inside his own ear. He looked around in shock.

COME ON, MAN, WAKE UP.

"...God? Is that you?" And right then, the vampire LeJeune jumped awake and stared up at Joe in a complete daze. "Whatha?"

Joe ate a handful of Pocky and shook his head in amazement. "Mick, I don't get how you can fall asleep on the toilet. We're vampires--we don't even use that thing anymore."

Mick thought about that for a second while staring at the ceiling and drew a blank. Of course, visions of that glorious kill were still rushing through his brain. "I could've sworn I got dressed and left."

"Hm. And then what?"

"I met this incredible lady of the night. I entranced her with my naturally superior looks and charm, then fucked her brainless and drank her dry. Oh, such a fragile mayfly of beauty she was, such a delightful candle flame of mortality..."

"So I guess that might explain...that." Joe chomped the rest of the box of Pocky and pointed.

Mick followed the gesture downward and his eyes widened in shock. A second later, his amazingly high-pitched scream echoed off the buildings around them at a supernatural volume.

One Sacred Blade operative on a rooftop some distance away woke up and remembered that he was supposed to be monitoring the monsters in the basement lair down the street. He poked his partner (who had also been taking a snooze) and asked, "Hey, did you just hear something weird?"

"What, like the sound of some vampire overreacting when he gets woken up by his roommate while his soldier's making the morning salute?"

"Yeah, something like that."

"Naw, man, didn't hear anything. Probably just a cat." He slouched a little farther down in his chair and went back to sleep.

Back in the mysterious labyrinth of evil, Joe calmly rolled his eyes as he stood outside the bathroom door, which had just been slammed in his face. "Mick, can you chill a little? You were in here for a half hour, and I just got worried and came in to see if you were okay. I mean, it happens to everybody, right? Except girls?"

"I don't care!" Mick sobbed. "Goddammit, 'LeJoe,' you don't walk in on a guy when something like that's happening!! Especially when you know damn well that he must be having a wonderful dream about a luscious, vibrant prostitute, a dream in which you are very not welcome!!" It seemed so real...why, oh WHY did it have to be only a dream? And why the hell did I not finish getting dressed before sitting down on the can and passing out??

"Mick, I think you need to get over this fear of other guys seeing you naked," Joe said with the utmost seriousness as he lifted up the two Anne Rice novels that his friend(?) had given to him earlier, showing them to the closed door. "I used my incredible vampire powers of speed-reading and finished these books while you were whacking off in the bathroom--"

"I was NOT whacking off!! I was having a normal, honest sleep, you hear me??"

"--And according to them, all vampires are inherently gay, even if they don't know it. Seriously, man, do I have to be gay for your friends to like me?"

The door was opened (only about a foot) with surprising violence and Mick stuck his head out, his eyes blazing red with fury. "They are NOT all gay!!"

"Hey, make sure you finish up before coming out of there. Remember that orgy you had three months ago? It's hell scrubbing man-gravy out of this carpet."

Mick grabbed him by the front of his shirt and jerked him forward; there was a comical hollow bonking sound as Joe's head got personal with the solid oak door. "I SAID that they're not all gay!!"

Joe brushed off the abuse and completely ignored the trickle of cold vampire blood running down from the split in his scalp. "Oh yeah? Name one major character in these books who isn't at least bi."

Mick's mind raced and a lone droplet of cold sweat ran down his cheek. "I...well...um...Gabrielle! She's not gay!"

"Okay, but she does dress up like a man and fall in love with her son."

"She's not in love with Lestat! They have a totally platonic relationship!!" Joe gave him A Look. "...Give me those, you empty-headed cretin." He snatched the books back and made sure to zip up his leather pants before opening the bathroom door all the way. "I should have known that your puny little brain would be unable to grasp the important truths found in the books that chronicle the true nature of our kind."

As the elder nightspawn walked back to his room in a huff, Joe spoke to his back. "Hey, is it true that John Davis from Korn was Lestat's voice in that movie that was based on this series? Is that really what a vampire's supposed to sound like when he sings?"

Mick walked back out of his room, having used his supernatural vampire speed to dress himself in mere seconds. He'd decided to wear the same outfit that he'd picked out in his dream--it was very flattering, after all. He still entertained the dim hope that he might walk out of his lair and find that same woman from his dream greeting him from a dark alley, but he knew that his mood had been thoroughly screwed up already. He just couldn't throw himself completely into lustful neck-chewing and erotic blood-drawing after his portable sundial had showed the time to a dork like Joe. Maybe I wouldn't feel so bad if he wasn't so hopelessly uncool. Instead of getting over it and moving on with his life, Mick chose to do what any self-respecting, angst-ridden vampire would--he nurtured his bad mood and utterly soaked himself in it, determined to be miserable regardless of whatever else might happen. His nerves were absolutely steeled against all kinds of cheerfulness.

"Joe, I hate you. Whoever gave you the kiss of immortality had to be some kind of wacked-out undead junkie with a brain tumor, because you're just plain not one of us. I can tell already that you're going to ruin both my life and my good name." He looked down. "And dammit, man, stop licking chocolate syrup up off the floor and look me in the face when I'm talking to you."

Joe continued to lap the chocolately goodness off the bare concrete kitchen floor with long, lingering strokes of his tongue. He paused just long enough to say, "But I think I saw this in some cartoon show with vampires and British people in it. Isn't it kind of sexy? Or do I have to have my hands tied behind my back for it to work?"

Mick booted him in the head, then checked to be sure that he didn't have any stupidity stuck to his handmade footwear afterwards. "No, you sad, miserable gimp, it only works when you're licking up blood. Not chocolate syrup, not Cadbury egg yolk, not Twinkie filling. Do you get why I hate you with such burning, intense passion?"

Joe got up and wiped a few smears of syrup off of his face (so that he could suck the residue out of his shirt later). "Okay, so you're moving out?"

Mick buried his face in his hands. "Joe...when people have a fight in our situation, they get very angry at each other, and they may drift apart for a while, and the problem escalates and pulls as many of their friends into it as possible, creating a huge interpersonal conflict. The whole purpose of roommate fights is to create drama in spades. We make up later on and then things go back to normal."

The other guy looked a bit uncomfortable. "...Mick, we're not going out or anything, are we?"

"NO! We're just quarrelling! It's normal for vampires to have huge, passionate fights!"

"Then if we're not an item or anything, can we just shake and be cool about it? I'll even apologize if you want." He shrugged and opened the fridge, looking for some other sickeningly sweet thing to consume.

"Forget this, okay? Just forget it." Mick stormed out of the kitchen, stomped angrily through the maze of dark, twisting hallways, and finally slammed the front door behind him.

"...I'm not getting this vampire thing too well," Joe commented to himself. Huh. Looks like I'm out of Krispy Kremes.

--------------

When Joe showed up for work in the back rooms of Club Noir--a fashionable, vampire-owned night spot in the middle of downtown--the first thing he did was drag the huge, black-laquered coffin out of his very oversized staff locker and attach it to his body with big, shiny chains. He swung it around a few times, testing the weight distribution, and walked out satisfied. His work attire consisted of a black suit on the very bleeding edge of European fashion, which had been provided by the club's mysterious owner. All the members of his security team dressed the same. Together, they were the BEATDOWN SQUAD OF JUSTICE, an elite(?) group of vicious combat monsters who were entrusted with the protection of every vampiric interest in the city. About a hundred spooks were under Joe's command, each one of them armed with a totally implausible weapon or bizarre combat style.

Joe's choice item of beatdowning-ness was the coffin. He thought that it was a smart thing to use, since all vampires were supposed to have one. Sadly, as he'd learned during last night's fight, not all coffins were made to proper combat specifications. He still felt cramped from sleeping on the floor all day.

Someone had once showed him a weird Japanese video game that starred some other dead guy (whose suit wasn't nearly as stylish or European) who slapped people with a big metal coffin, and Joe had been properly miffed that his schtick had been stolen. The higher-ups were now suspecting that some human had seen the BEATDOWN SQUAD OF JUSTICE in action and had lived to tell the tale, though a few of their number claimed that evil Japanese vampires must have been stealing their thoughts as they slept during the day. It was a scary notion, especially considering how Joe had recently developed a real zen for Pocky.

As he walked out of the locker room, he was stopped by the club's hospitality manager, who was a short, nervous, and otherwise nondescript dead guy. "Joe, I have a command of utmost importance from the Owner." Nobody knew the Owner's name.

"Oh man...is one of my guys walking around with toilet paper stuck to his shoe again? Seriously, I can only do so much--"

"No, no, this is much more important. I've received word that your group's suits went out of style a full five minutes ago. Oh, it's such a terrible tragedy--I can only hope that our organization will be able to recover from it. But here, before any further damage is done, I need you to gather all of your men and make them change into their new clothes." He gestured to a flunky behind him, who sweated and strained as he pushed a rolling rack with over a hundred suits in opaque black bags hanging from it. The manager pulled Joe in close to drive the seriousness of his words home. "Now, you must remember this: These suits are beyond haute couture. This fashion statement has not even been released to the Paris elite. While your group is given the honor of wearing them, you must never let them fall into enemy hands. Do you understand me?"

"Sure, we can do that."

"Then go change and then call your people. I'll round up the personnel from the floor before they strike our patrons blind with their dated outfits. Oh, the tragedy!"

Joe took a suit off the rack. Joe went to the bathroom and changed. And when Joe looked at himself in the mirror afterwards, he wondered if he should really walk around in a big crowd of people with something like this on...

Lammergeier · Master of the Universe Joined: 28 Jan 2007 Posts: 151

(seg by Sniperboy):
...Joe hunched his shoulders up and down, then round and round on their sockets. He looked at himself at the mirror, then puckered his lips and let out a chuckled "PFFT!" when he realized that there was no reflection waiting for him. Muscle memory was still playing games on him and it still took him a while to get used to the way things were [now].

It was different, [THEN].

The suit was incredibly small and did little to help his less than flattering physique. The black suit was collarless, and exposed the obnoxiously large collars on his white buttoned shirt. He ran his gaze downwards, unlike a standard clubbing suit, the end of this piece ended in the just above his pectorals. Under the black velvet, his shirt was cut open in parts exposing his midsection from his nipples down to his bellybutton, only to be buttoned down at his waist. The whole ensemble was completed with useless white belts draping his twinkie belly.

Joe continued to stretch the suit out - but despite his efforts to twist and pull, the silly costume dug deep into his armpits.

"Silly Euros..." He cussed, pulling the front of his shirt outwards, holding faith that he could somehow loosen the outfit if he tried hard enough.

Joe made his way to his neck and pried his fingers into his collar to give him some breathing room. He hunched his head to the right and let out a cough as he ran his digits along the sides of his neck, up until his hand bumped unto two familiar wounds on his neck...

Joe couldn't help it. He stopped his motion and all of a sudden, the thought of his utter discomfort left him. Joe looked at the mirror again on instinct. There was nothing there.

- - -

“’ey hound dog… You like fat boys?” He said in his charming southern drawl, pulling back the hammer on his revolver. Placing it square behind the vampire’s head, interrupting his little snack.

- - -

Sometimes it itched.

<If you touch those scabs, his mother said to him [then], you'll make it worse.>

Joe's brows tensed, then eased. Index and middle fingers caressed those two nodes in his neck that refused to heal no matter what he did.

- - -

His vision began to blur - the world was upside down. Before long the hand that stretched in front of him started to shake uncontrollably. With each painful breath he dug those bloody digits into the asphalt, gasping for breath. Gasping for breath - he dug into the hot ground, trying defiantly to grab a hold and pull himself forward. Panicked motions, drowning in a pool of fear...

It was futile, the gunshot wound in his belly stopped hurting. The rippling pain was replaced by an immortal chill. Tears froze on his cheeks - the frost in his breath further clouded his vision.

THEN - the laughter. He wasn't sure anymore but he heard that cackling. The sound of steel clashing to each other, then gunshots - then laughter...

The alley blocked him from the world and trapped him in a box - oh how he wished... Oh how he wished he could see the sky again. The beautiful blue skies. His breaths became laboured and he looked upwards, only to be greeted by a cold piece of steel on his forehead.

"I... I want to see the sky."

The God above him only flashed that exposed greasy hair and sick gold teeth onto him. The thug’s mouth began to form words, but he couldn't hear anything leave his sweet lips - his gaze was only focused at the end of that tunnel. The bright neon lights that mocked him from his pit of hell. THEN footsteps. The hateful sound of cats screeching, the baying of traffic, and the flirting laughter of lovers I longed for – those who passed by, they all ignored his plea for help silenced.

Silence. Just footsteps echoing into the dark puddles of rain, and the sound of steel slightly passing and running on the ground. One step – then two.. three four they echoed to the hollow world. Clink scrrrriiikkkkk… the large rusty blade ran on the ground.

[THEN]

“Do you want to see the sky again?” His calming, friendly voice asked. Hand behind his neck, lifting his head up – buying a few seconds in this world.

“The sky…” Joe pleaded.

The warm lips touched his, that was all he remembered before his lungs finally collapsed.

- - -

Joe woke from his daydream – pale vampire blood started to flow from his marks - he heard the familiar sound of a gunshot from outside his dressing room.

Joe threw the door open and rushed into the main dance floor of the club, effortlessly dragging his coffin behind him.

- - -

“Thank ye, thank ye vera much…” was what he was greeted with. A sandy blonde haired man, dressed in cowboy vest and chaps – the full regalia - flicked the brim of his 10 gallon hat up and with a final twirls, holstered his single six revolver into his right holster. “We’ll be leavin’ naw, belle…”

He held his suede hat firmly in place. The cowboy snapped his heels together and turned his body 180 degrees backwards, leaving the clank of metal spurs in his wake. He turned around and faced a silver haired man, who had no emotion in his terse, blank face. The anachronistic six shooter stopped just in front of his boss. Tossing his hair to the side and grunted. Turned around and made their way to the exit.

The 29 tails of the boss’ trench coat had shiny links of chainmail and belt buckles - those made painfully sounding clinks on the ground.

As the red sea once parted, the angered, yet afraid vampires stepped back – a clear pathway opened in front of the two men.

“Uh huh huuuh…” The cowboy threw is hand up into the air and tossed a silver…

Lammergeier · Master of the Universe Joined: 28 Jan 2007 Posts: 151

(seg by Sensoo):
...coin. It was old, nicked, and possibly foreign. The head of some unknown figure was scratched out. It landed on tails in his calloused palm. He sighed and pocketed it swiftly.

"I've got five shots, it's 5 till midnight, and I'll up the ante...do I have any takers?" He smiled carelessly. There was a murmur of indignation from the crowd.

Now Joe found it immensely amusing to see a cowboy in the vampiric/gothic dungeon. The stranger embodied every spaghetti western he'd ever seen. But he was being paid to kick ass/look like a Euro-weenie.

"Hey, pardner!" Joe called in a lame John Wayne imitation. "What makes you think you can just mosey in here and pop a cap in one of my brothahs?"

There was a moment of silence while everyone adjusted to Joe's change in dialects.

"Is that a challenge?" The blonde man drawled.

Joe crossed his arms thoughtfully. He uncrossed his arms and scratched his head. The chains clanked as the coffin shifted. Joe began biting his lower lip, noting traces of chocolate syrup from earlier that morning...he'd have to pick some more up after work, and then maybe some ice cream to go with it, but he wasn't sure if he could choose between moose tracks and chocolate chip cookie dough...

"Psst! Joe!!!" The manager glared at his minion. Joe blinked and looked around, his daydream of sweet treats lost in the gloom of the club. "We're paying your dumb ass to lead the BEATDOWN SQUAD OF JUSTICE to victory!!"

Joe straightened and grinned. A short redhead sidled up to him, holding a steel cane with a steel-coated skull on the top tip. She wore a suit that matched Joe's, with the exception that it was more specifically taylored for the female body...and it was about 2 sizes too big.

"Hi Karen!" Joe greeted brightly.

The girl glared up at him from behind heavy white facepaint and black eyeliner. Her pierced lip twitched a few times.

"My name is Callisto, you bumbling oaf!" She glowered at him before focusing her attention on the cowboy. "Let's take this outside." She pointed to the door.

"Whatever you say, li'l lady," the cowboy mocked gently. He cocked his head and stepped aside. "Ladies first?"

Lammergeier · Master of the Universe Joined: 28 Jan 2007 Posts: 151

(seg by Sniperboy):
"Human pig..."

"I'll take that as a compliment Darlin'." The cowboy bowed low. "Must ya force~ a gentleman to address such a beautiful lady likewise?" he came back with a fearless smile and sincere grin.

"Elvis' dead, pig." Callisto grunted, nose upturned.

"But Ma'belle..." he injucted. "If [ T H E . M A N ] were'a here, would he say otherwise... What a blood-sucking BITCH you are."

No response, the dark gray mirror polished marble kept record of the instantaneous moment. It was clear as the night, the blindingly shiny floor only reflected two images - one of the silver haired boss behind him, and the cocky ranch hand.

"Tha' names Billy-Jane." He chuckled, hand up ~ his colt single six chattering as its intricately engraved barrel kept the silver blade inches away from his eyes.

[5 shots]

Callisto grit her fangs down and bared her brows downwards, ready to tear through the petty man made steel and into his overconfident gaze.

-Ya know.. I dated a lady once - she had that thar lip ring, but after all that kissin' she had to get'ridda'a it...-

[they were man made]

Boris... you.. she...

neither of the pair of star-struck enemies heard it, but it was there - the silver 1903 coin left a sharp tinkling sound...

"Greek Godly. European. Virgin. What's a sweet litt'la belle lik'ya doin in a place a'like this." Billy-J snickered. "Ya know, ya'd be so so pretty if you weren't a vamp - makin' ha'self so ugly widdal' dat makeup."

5

Callisto's fangs grew out of her now bleeding gums.

"Calli..." Joe...

"Human." She seethed. "Huma..."

"Maybe one day, you'll marry a nice ol' boy; he'll'a show ya what bein' a lady reall'a feels like; have a sweet sweet home, a garden, make him happy and maki'm a nice nice breakfast..." : D-Y'AMAH BELLE?!??"

Callisto's time topped, she held her breath as she finally realized what her enemy was trying to do. She eased her shoulders - let out a breath and smiled in return, God to willing... she willed the speed of her world to increase 13 fold.

Billy-Jane tossed his left left palm up and threw a dash of silver dust into the air to her face. Women, you're always in a hurry...

"Kelly. I'll call ya Kelly!"

Billy-Jane tossed his left left palm up and threw a palm full of silver dust...

Lammergeier · Master of the Universe Joined: 28 Jan 2007 Posts: 151

(seg by Sensoo):
Callisto saw the deadly powder waft toward her. It came very slowly, in her eyes. She saw that charming smile on that mad bastard's youthful face. She saw her life in that instant, in his smile and his attack.

It would have been easy, familiar, almost romantic to inhale that poison and let it destroy her from within. Or, to let it burn her pale skin. To scar and maim her pretty face. It would complete her image of self-loathing or free her from the bondage of a miserable timeless existence.

But Callisto, for all of her sophomoric, self-absorbed melodrama, had pride. And that was a fierce force that refused to be denied.

She recoiled quickly. A vampire was outside of time. And no matter how quick the human, she would had that advantage. A smug mask covered up her already made up face. A small, velvet gloved hand waved away the poisonous nebula. She was a vampire, there was no need to breathe. It was only a weak human habit.

"Showered in silver dust?" Callisto sneered. "That's a bit pricey for a first date...are you sure you can afford it?"

"Dust to dust, ma'belle. You're worth every penny."

The girl twirled her cane. "Let's go, Billy-Bob. I'll show you what kind of breakfast I serve."

Joe wisely refrained from inquiring about Lucky Charms, chocolate syrup, and pop tarts. Though that's where his mind had wandered after the breakfast comment. He was rather certain Kar-Callisto would never serve him bacon and eggs, but maybe, just maybe...

The man tipped his hat.

Callisto snapped her fingers under Joe's nose and stalked out the door. Joe followed, his coffin clanking ominously as they swaggered past Billy Jane, to the alley outside, beneath the yellow light of the street lamps. Joe sadly noted that he could see no stars.

The air was cooler outside, and once Billy Jane had followed them out, the music in the club started back up. The vampires inside would lounge, or dance, or try to seem very bored with the superiority of their unlife. They were too cold, too childish, or too scared to ever realize the true beauty of a savage fight.

Joe shifted on the balls of his feet, feeling very out of place, and a little uncomfortable in his too tight suit.

Billy-Jane, the vampire-slaying cowboy, twirled his gun.

"Ma'belle...ma Kelly. It means "warrior," you know. I wonder if that fits. Will you show me, Kelly? What about your friend? Will he prove to be anything more than a restless ghost, dragging his coffin and rattling his chains?"

Joe raised a brow. Kar-Callisto was twitching. "You're bothering my friend." He jerked a thumb back at Callisto. "For all your fancy talk, you don't seem to respect the lady much."

Callisto positively bristled. The tip of her cane pressed rudely against Joe's spine.

"She's not really a lady," Billy said without spite. "She's just a lost little girl with the trimmings of Jezebel."

Callisto laughed coldly. "And you're a fish out of water, cowpoke. You might be slick enough to blow away an unsuspecting vampire...but do you stand a chance against the BEATDOWN SQUAD OF JUSTICE?!"

On cue, Joe swung his coffin...