Bad Blood (Wendigo)

[Paige]

"--The following transcript was a live chat roleplay--"

Paige: returned to her cubicle after the latest meeting. "Donuts in the breakroom," someone told her. She caught herself staring at the woman like it was the stupidest thing she'd ever heard, then blinked and sneezed. Yes, it wasn't a glare, it was just a sneeze. "Thank you," she rasped and went to the breakroom. Cold blue contact lenses surveyed the pastries helplessly sitting in their box with no escape. Paige picked one with raspberry filling and took it to her desk. She sat it on the mahogany surface beside a cold mug of coffee and went over the latest spreadsheet.

Wendigo: Vincent stepped off of the elevator and observed the bustle of activity on the third floor. It had been a long time since Groom Industries looked this good or seemed this active, but the last few years had been hard. He wondered inwardly how much of the collateral that his nephew was putting up was blood money, stolen, or otherwise obtained through unsavory methods. Still, he couldn't start asking those questions yet. Maybe some good could still come of it after all.

Paige: A creature regarded him from her cubicle. She was a head taller than her coworkers, but to say that she seemed fresh out of college would have been an understatement. She had come from Russia, to head the renovation project. With her she carried a long list of credentials, as well as a large chip on her shoulder. Her stare was brief but piercing, then returned to her computer screen. Some figures needed adjusting from the latest meeting.

Wendigo: Vincent walked among the cubicles: he didn't understand most of what was happening in terms of the science or the business, but he trusted them. In general, people were good, and he knew that they were doing good work. He had allowed Dee to advise him on hires and decisions... the ghost had never steered him wrong before. Now, although he was having his doubts about the Wraith, he couldn't find fault with the results.

Paige: Paige inhaled when Vincent walked past. She should have eaten before work, this was getting out of hand. Nothing to be done, though. She would have to feed from him, just a little. If Mr. Groom found out, he would understand. Her mind was made up the moment she smelled Vincent. "Do you like doughnuts?" she asked him. With her throat injury and her Russian accent, he might not even understand her. A disproportionately long finger prodded at the raspberry filled doughnut slowly.

Wendigo: See? Good people. "Thanks," he replied, moving to the edge of the cubicle. He pulled a handkerchief from his jacket pocket to receive it. "Working a late shift?" he asked. "Don't think I've seen you here before?" Perhaps it was a vain assumption that he didn't introduce himself, but he also didn't like to insult people by acting like they didn't already know who he was.

Paige: Paige sighed and nodded. "I'm Paige. Meetings all night. I get to go home soon, though." She gave a pointed glance at the clock on the wall. Ten minutes, she could hold off until then. "What about you." It didn't matter if he left in ten minutes or not, she would wait for him and drink his raspberry filling laden blood. And then, she reminded herself, she would let him go. Safe and sound, human coworker. But then... they never did remember, did they? How she treated them?

Wendigo: "I seem to be working more nights than days now," he admits, taking the pastry. "Couple of early morning meetings too. Don't know who prefers mornings..." he paused briefly: he knew exactly whom, but he didn't share that. "...but I'd much like to sleep nights again. Blackout curtains aren't a substitute for a good night's sleep."

Paige: She nodded sleepily in agreement, with a frown to express irritation in their shared situation. The vampire locked her desktop and sat up, then stretched in what she hoped was not an exaggerated manner. "No," she agreed, "But my project is almost finished." And I can't trust any of these incompetents to make decisions without me, she wanted to add, as if he would understand. Instead she smiled at the doughnut. She would see its essence again soon.

Wendigo: "Oh?" he asked. "Something special?" He feigns a glance towards the computer he knows is locked. "I hope you haven't been having trouble with anyone... I hate to think anyone is incompetent." He frowns a little bit: he didn't often hear these complaints.

Paige: Paige started the walk and talk. She found that, if you talked to a human and started to walk, the human generally followed you. And, since Vincent had been going in that direction anyway, Paige assumed he had somewhere to be that way. Hopefully somewhere private. Walk. "The renovations. Oh. Nothing very bad," she said, then her expression darkened just thinking about it. "Pointless actually. One of the guys ordered a cheaper lot of garbage cans for the facility. But it was not on the approved list. The only cans on the approved list are fifty dollars more expensive." That meeting had been so very exciting. Paige was so hungry.

Wendigo: Vincent nodded, following. "Ah, construction crew," he exclaimed. "You're doing a fine job around here." He gestured about. "I haven't seen the place looking this good in a long time. Looking forward to having the old offices made new again, but, well... this takes priority!" It was the truth. The workers mattered much more than the administration, much as capitalism might think otherwise.

Paige: "Actually the offices are next," she informed him. "I can show you a model if you like." Her interest was twofold. Getting him alone was her top priority, but also she did feel a bit of a proud glow for her work. Each element of its design had been overseen by Paige, from the finances and construction, down to the bare design and functionality. "They have fully equipped presentation stations and high definition projectors..." It made her a little less angry just talking about it.

Wendigo: He nods. "I'm sure those will come in handy," he says. "Though, in fairness, I'm not really sure what those are or what they'd be used for." He rubs the back of his neck: these young ones always knew so much. How Wendell and Donovan managed was beyond him. "I suppose they'll want me to get rid of my typewriter?" he laughs.

Paige: Paige raised a raven eyebrow at him. A typewriter? That was the second stupidest thing someone had said to her tonight. But when he laughed, she realized it was a joke. She would have tried to laugh with him if not for her throat injury, so instead she just made a soft chuckling noise and smiled. "I'll show you. They are amazing. You can plug anything into anything. Use multimedia to communicate. We are really bridging the gap between departments with them." Paige pulled out a keycard and stopped in front of the elevator. It seemed she had clearance to the floors that were under construction.

Wendigo: He nods. "Sounds good," he says. Was she planning to show him? Maybe he would learn something. He was a little surprised at her keycard... was this someone he was supposed to be remembering? Age was sometimes cruel to his memory. Some vampire traits were enviable. "Where to?"

Paige: Paige stepped into the elevator and pressed a button after swiping her card. "We'll want the sixth floor. That's where the model room is set up." The area was deserted and quiet. The lights flickered on as soon as they detected people walking across the sterile room. Paige's voice had a bit of an echo because of the empty state of it. "All of the conference rooms will be like this one," she announced and unlocked a door. More lights flickered on and illuminated the long table, rows of chairs, a podium and some expensive looking equipment.

Wendigo: He stepped into the room, looking it over. "Very impressive," he said. He ran his hand over the fine wood panelling: so much money spent for the finest. He wondered how many people they could help for the price of rare wood like this. He knew it was sometimes a necessary evil to impress investors. "When do you think it will be ready?"

Paige: "Hopefully by the end of the summer," she mused thoughtfully and closed the door. Finally. "What is your name," she asked him. She probably wouldn't remember it later, but knowing his name would give her power over him. He would do as he was told.

Wendigo: He turned as the door closed, though he was equally surprised by the question. "Uh... Vincent?" he said. Maybe the question referred to his first name? Most people here called him "Mr. Groom". He straightened a little, remembering to project confidence. "Vincent Groom."

Paige: Paige blinked. No he wasn't Mr. Groom. Mr. Groom was safe and sound downstairs, ignorant of what was about to happen, just like everyone else. Then she realized he was probably related to her Mr. Groom and smiled. "So you're related to Wendell." Paige left the door behind and sat at the head of the conference table as if she was about to talk business.
Wendigo: He pauses, regarding her carefully. The heavy pistol under his jacket probably wouldn't be enough. Still, she was sitting now: it was the only thing preventing him from hitting the small panic button connected to his cufflink. She called his nephew "Wendell," so she didn't know everything. "So... you're one of them?" he asks, his posture straightening. "What do you want with him?"
Paige: Time seemed to stand still, and Paige felt her teeth began to lengthen like the jaws of a lion. Part of her, no, most of her, was relieved that the game was up. "Eat your doughnut, Vincent. I don't want anything with him." She seemed to undergo a change. Like a snake freshly shed from the confines of her skin, Paige's true colors shone brightly. She didn't move a muscle, and didn't cast a shadow. Her stare was void of life.
Wendigo: Vincent looked at the forgotten pastry. He wrapped it in the kerchief and set it on the table. He folded his hands on the nearby chair. It had the added advantage of putting his fingers nearer to the cufflink. "Then why go through the charade to get me alone?" He paused... he wasn't stalling for time, was he? He hadn't called for help yet. He couldn't call every time he got spooked after all.

Paige: "Because I'm hungry, Vincent. And you smell good. Now eat that doughnut." She was not interested in using Vincent to get to Wendell, any more than she was interested in proving to Vincent that this was the case. She owed him nothing! Perhaps she would have tried to convince him better if she'd known about the advantageous cufflink.

Wendigo: Vincent tilted his head. Should he tell her? Maybe she would kill him if she knew. More likely she would kill him when poisoned... their kind really seemed to hate it. "You won't like what you get," he said reprovingly. "Wendell provided well in that regard. More hassle than its worth... doughnut or no."

Paige: Paige's fist made a dent in the brand new table in the blink of an eye. She frowned at the splintery crater, then glared at Vincent. The whites of her eyes became orange around the blue contact lenses. "Eat. The jelly. Dougnut," she growled. She couldn't wait to tear into his throat and stop herself short of really hurting him, because, as she had to keep reminding herself, apparently this human belonged to Mr. Groom.

[Wendigo]

"--The following transcript was a live chat roleplay--"

Wendigo: Vincent clicked the cufflink before he realized what he was doing. He tensed, but then immediately felt a strange sort of relief, knowing that all hell was about to break loose. Now it was just about playing for time. "Fine, have it your way," he said, picking up the doughnut. "If I may ask," he mused, stalling while examining it, "Why the obsession with the doughnut?"

Paige: Obsession? Why did he call it an obsession? He made her demand sound unreasonable and trifling. Why was he so calm? Was it because he already knew about vampires? Paige was flustered, which made her even angrier. Why would she share with him? He was the human, not her. He didn't get to ask personal questions. "No you may not ask," she rumbled.

Wendigo: He had not interacted with other vampires before -- he wasn't sure Dee counted. By contrast, Wendell was nothing... or was he? He knew his nephew was murderous... is this the type of terror he inflicted on others? Is this the kind of pain he supported in going along with these plans? He broke the doughnut in half... maybe he deserved what came to him. He took a bite. It was stale.

Paige: She watched him like a vulture while he bit into the doughnut. Finally, he seemed like he'd come to an understanding of his situation. That or the doughnut tasted awful. Paige hoped it tasted awful. It would serve him right for being so difficult. She stood and grabbed the rest of the doughnut from his hand. She crushed it hatefully, then threw it aside. Then she bit deeply into his neck. He probably couldn't tell, but she was actually practicing restraint. It had been a rough night.

Wendigo: Vincent was immediately powerless in the grasp of the vampire. It wasn't the first time a vampire had bit him, and resisting would risk greater damage. He tried to relax and go limp: falling to the floor would be preferable, despite the pain. Still, at least before the artifact, he'd fallen into blissful sleep. That he didn't meant the relic was doing its work.

Paige: Paige only got a few mouthfuls in before Vincent's warning hit home. She groaned and threw him straight down, then staggered backward into the podium. Not only did his blood taste foul, it was also making her stomach churn. Black bile spilled from her lips and quickly dissipated into thin air. "Ugh... bleh! Chto , chert voz'mi, s vashimi zhidkostey!" Which was Russian for something, but probably sounded like vomiting anyway.
Что, черт возьми, с вашими жидкостей!

Wendigo: The force dislocated his shoulder: he wasn't as young as he used to be. He shouted, and reached with his useful hand and clicked the cufflink repeatedly. At the fourth click, there was a faint high-pitched sound like a distant wail, and then there was only a quickly-dissipating black cloud where Vincent had fallen.

Paige: Paige fell on her knees and vomited more. Like all of her essence, it was black and intangible. It quickly left in a puff of smoke, just as Vincent had somehow done. As she struggled to control her heaving, she thought about the botched feeding. Where was he? How had he gotten away? Would he remember? And, what would she tell Mr. Groom about the vanished relative?

Wendigo: Wendigo set the man's shoulder using the knowledge of his nephew and set a bandage to his neck. The downside to having the relic meant that sometimes the wounds didn't heal. "Girl..." Vincent had said. "Sixth floor." Wendigo didn't much care to give him anything for the pain, but instead turned his attention on Groom Center. He had invested too much on his thrall to let such matters slide.

Paige: Paige didn't feel well enough to go home. She had often stayed in empty conference rooms at the center overnight, when she was afraid to go home as a fledgeling. Now, she stayed because the room was spinning and her stomach was trying to jump out of her throat to escape the tainted blood. She sprawled out near the doughnut she had thrown. Raspberry jam had exploded from it, along with flecks of stale icing. Paige glared at the shattered pastry and began to tear up. For all that trouble, she should have just eaten the ******* doughnut herself.

Wendigo: Maybe taking the memories of Gabriel -- someone who saw Vincent as a younger brother -- had unbalanced him. Some distant part of his mind was seething with the news of Vincent's attack... and in his territory, no less! As he flew over the river in the guise of the vulture, he pressed into supernatural speeds, shattering the heavy, plate glass window of the office next to the sixth floor conference room. He slid across the floor several feet before beginning another transformation into something better suited for combat.

Paige: Paige was shrouded in despair. Things had not gone as planned, not even a little. Poisoned as she was, she still had her instincts about her, and when something came hurtling through the window she staggered to her feet. She hadn't brought her broadsword to work with her, so she assumed an unarmed defensive stance. The vulture was shifting into something else. The room was still unsteady. Was she imagining everything? Her lip curled in a growl of warning. In her poisoned state it was possible that she would be more dangerous, like a cornered animal. It happened too fast for her to assume that it was her employer investigating.

Wendigo: Between the transformation and the momentum, he left half-inch deep claw marks in the floor between the remains of the window and the midway point in the room. Perhaps it was the far-off thunder of rage, or the abrupt series of transformations, but he stood with remnants of the vulture body still attached: mostly a coat of gore and large, black feathers. His normal snout was also more pronounced and hooked, like a cruel beak. He crouched for a moment, surprised at the lack of immediate attack, and then turned towards the figure in the next room. "Paige...?"

Paige:: She blinked through the queasy haze and stared at him warily. Her anger gave way to alarm, though outwardly she only scowled and took a couple of steps backward. Broken glass crunched underfoot. She had fought him before and lost an arm, but she was older now, more powerful. "I don't want anything from you," she growled defensively, as if she was still talking to Vincent.

Wendigo: Normally, he would pause to consider these words, but in the mind of the beast there were only words that told him what he needed to know, and other words that he had no time for. Especially not while he was on the trail. Heedless of the few loose feathers sliding down his blood-slicked form, he sucked in great puffs of air, looking for the scent of another intruder. He didn't find one, though this was of little concern with a witness. "The Girl," he growled. "Where?"

Paige: Paige blinked again and pointed hesitantly to herself. She kept as close an eye on Wendell as she could. How much of the sickness she felt was from Vincent's blood, and how much of it was because she was afraid of losing her job? The structure of her existence would crumble. But she wouldn't let him hurt her just because she didn't want to lose him.

Wendigo: The finger either didn't register with him, or he chose to ignore it willfully. The smell of Vincent's blood was in the air, dominating his senses, and he followed it. He carelessly tossed an expensive desk to the side rather than walk around it, and left deep nail marks in its surface in doing so. In this form, he had to duck to pass through the doorway of the neighboring conference room where Vincent had fallen. It took him only moments to locate the blood on the carpet. He hunched over it, staring, and letting his thoughts gather together.

Paige: The thought of leaving didn't cross Paige's mind. She stumbled quietly after Wendell. When he stared at the rusting streak on the carpet, she started to explain as best as she could. "I didn't mean to hurt him. But his blood was..." How? Was she allergic to Vincent? "...I was only going to eat. I thought he would forget."

Wendigo: "You?" he growls in reply. His nails unconsciously sunder the blood-stained carpet as he stands to his full, mutant height. At the moment, his mind wasn't on the risks of feeding on the premises, or the mess he'd made in the next room: it was about a man who was valuable to him. Familial relation aside, Vincent was the lynchpin to holding the company in his grasp. "You know who he was?" he managed.

Paige: "No," Paige rumbled, visibly tensing. It took her a moment to remember herself. She wasn't a human and this wasn't Axel, and yet, her spirits had been seized by the jaws of time while her body was left struggling to stay composed. "Not at first. I didn't know he belonged to you until right before I bit him. And then I had to, because I wanted him to forget." Forget, like they all do. Like they were all supposed to do. What the hell happened with this one?

Wendigo: Wendigo rumbled, and finally instinct gave way to logic. He transformed again, shrinking from the behemoth war machine into the stone-faced man in the clean grey suit. This, too, was an illusion... but better than trying to slip out of the building while dripping the remains of the vulture he had burst out of. "You know now," he growled. The change in size did little to diminish his voice. "Vincent's off-limits. We have nothing without him." He paused, the... whatever tightness it was in his chest... having not yet subsided. It compelled him to elaborate where he'd usually leave matters stand. "You even meet eyes with him again, and I'll have you vacuum-sealed in a steel coffin and freight-dropped into the Mariana Trench," he added calmly.

Paige: She had no idea who Vincent was to Wendell. Vincent's blood and Wendell's threat had given her an aversion to even wondering. As far as she was concerned, this had never happened. Paige nodded and stared at the bloodstain. She was going to have to have her showroom cleaned up.

Wendigo: He nodded in turn, surveying the damage. He resolved to summon Vincent out immediately next time and damn the consequences. Even if he had disappeared in a very public space, it would have been easier to clean up than this mess would be. Thousands in damage, plus the difficulty of explaining bear-sized claw marks in a sixth story office. And the gore. The feathers. He eyed the supplies for construction and cleaning around, formulating the coverup.

Paige: Paige kicked awkwardly at the remnants of the doughnut as she regained her composure. She was not there, she was here, and everything was going to be fine. Reassured of her at least immediate safety, Paige took her key ring and headed for the supply closet. Normally she cleaned up evidence, bodies, but tonight she would be an actual janitor. The queasy vampire glumly began to pour peroxide on the stained carpet. It bubbled and foamed. Her own blood was gone from the scene. Paige allowed herself to think about Vincent. Axel could see through her eyes and speak into her mind, so she was often hesitant to think much of anything. But while she cleaned she found herself thinking of her sister back in their human years.

Wendigo: First thing was first: he'd have to move the construction dumpster around. A chute wouldn't be necessary to hit such a target, but some of the furniture had to be destroyed. He'd use it to mar the floor over the claw marks: covering up damage was generally harder than burying it under more damage. Then he'd dispose of the debris before work crews arrived in the morning. He'd have to pin this on someone too: some disgruntled employee or gangster... whoever was unfortunate enough to be hanging around when he wandered out to find the dumpster. Strange how such small stones could produce such grave ripples in the larger picture: both in business and in the calm of his own mind.