A Face in the Crowd [Marty James]

[Thorne (DELETED 7278)]

It was Halloween night. The night the ghouls and ghosties were supposed to roam the land, only to be turned away by a gourd with a candle in it. Pussies. After a little run in with a vampiress named Nishaa, Thorne Andras was now one of the ghouls that roamed the night. And tonight he had decided he would bring a little true horror to some Halloween party goer's pathetic (and soon to be short) little life.

To be fair, this urge probably did not come from being a vampire. Thorne Andras (formerly Randall Thorne of Park Avenue West, NYC) had been a monster long before his transformation into a member of the undead community. The bodies he had left behind in New York were still being discovered. What a shame that it had all started to come crashing down. He had loved New York in the summer. The excitement of the city that never sleeps, where the coke had run almost as freely as the blood he shed there. Though, he supposed, if he had never come this little ****-kicker, Canadian town, he never would have met Nishaa, his sire. And boy, if he thought he had been having fun before as a human...

To the woman dancing with her friends that night at the Metronome Club, Thorne was just another face in the crowd. But to Thorne, the woman had, through purely random selection, become something more. She had become prey. It seemed the young mothers of Harper Rock had packed their little candy addled brats away for the night and decided to come out and celebrate Halloween in their own debauched manner. There were a group of them huddled together on the dance floor, all of whom, to paraphrase Kanye, looking like they "rocked Forever21 but just turned thirty." Though any one of these women would do for Thorne's purposes tonigh, for whatever reason the brunette in the Snow White costume had especially caught his eye.

Thorne watched and waited, pretending to sip a drink he could could no longer stomach due to his vampirism. Blood was the only thing he could keep down now, and he planned to have some tonight. He saw a mild discussion break out among the ladies on the dance floor that seemed to be aimed towards moving the group towards the restrooms, and he decided now was a good time to make a move himself. Like a knight on a chess board, he slipped easily around the group and into a darkened hallway just adjacent to where the bathrooms were located. It was in the this hallway that an emergency exit to the club could also be found. It might as well have been gift wrapped with a big bow on it just for Thorne. As the line of women headed to the restroom like ducks in a row, Thorne contented himself with taking whomever was foolish enough to be at the end of the line. As luck would have it however, this poor unfortunate soul turned out to be Snow White herself, who had paused just long enough to set down an empty on the bar as her friends headed quacking into the Ladies Room.

Just as the Disney princess was about to reach the door, Thorne stepped out from the shadows. "May I have this dance?" he intoned coolly, taking her by the wrist. Before the surprised woman could respond, Thorne leapt back with lightning speed, his grip tightening like an iron manacle and pulling the woman with him through the emergency exit and into the alley beyond. The alarm sounded almost immediately. Slamming the door shut behind him, Thorne grabbed the iron bar he had placed in the alley earlier that evening, and jammed the door shut. He wondered idly how many of those sheep in the club tonight would foolishly risk being crushed or suffocated trying to futilely force their way through the emergency exit before contenting themselves to leave via the club's front doors like everybody else. As he was thinking this, he had already lead the stunned and disoriented woman behind a dumpster and was hungrily latched onto her neck and sucking the blood out of her. The Snow White wig toppled off her head as it lolled back and Thorne was mildly surprised to see the woman was really a blonde. I knew there was a reason I liked you, he thought as he continued to slowly kill the woman. Thorne had always had a thing for blondes.

Though he suspected he could still get another pint out of her, Thorne's supernaturally adept hearing could detect that the crowd milling around the front of the club had started to ooze towards the entrance of the alley. Detaching himself from the the limp woman, he heaved her body into the dumpster with one effortless shove, not sure if she were alive or dead at this point, and not really caring either way. Smoothing out his suit and hair, Thorne walked briskly and effortlessly to the entrance of the alley, dabbing at his lips with a handkerchief. He smoothly inserted himself into the crowd of confused club goers, and mixed himself in with the crowd. Thorne noted with some sick satisfaction that Snow White's friends were standing not far away, looking somewhat frantic as they searched the crowd for their missing friend.

Deciding that that was pretty much it for Halloween, some of the crowd had begun to disperse. Thorne decided that the better part of valor would have to win out over gloating this time, and decided to head out as well, and find a quiet place to use his tome before anyone got suspicious. He casually strode down the sidewalk, and away from the club, satisfied with his own game of "Trick or Treat."

[Marty James]

Marty dreaded the festivities of the evening, Halloween had once been one of this favorite holidays. For the past few years, the matching his and hers costumes, but not tonight. He had been out most of the day, just exploring the city and making note of all the places he planned on visiting, many of them bars and clubs. Though that was not what his job required, but his alcohol consumption need of late sure did. The Metronome Club was first on the list for the evening, though only after having cleared out his mini bar yet again back at the hotel. Marty hadn’t dressed up for the festivity of the holiday, but at the club it was clear many had gone all out. Maybe in another mood he might have enjoyed letting his eyes wonder over those that crowded the dancefloor, but he parked himself at the bar not too far from the restrooms.

Ordering a double, he would have a look around once he had his drink in hand. The glass pressed to his lips he would have a long drink, one he would choke up upon sight of a familiar face. ”Are you alright sweetheart?” A woman beside him at the bar had given him a few pats on the back as he recovered from the alcohol that had found its way to his lungs. Grabbing a napkin, he dried off his face and took a few breaths. ”Yeah, thanks…. Just thought I saw a monster…” The woman with the long pink bubble gum colored hair laughed. ”Darlin its Halloween, there’s plenty of monsters out tonight.” Marty would just smile and play like nothing was wrong at all. Though he knew what he had seen, Mack the Knife, and unlike the others playing pretend, that man was a real monster.

Marty didn’t take up his drink again when he looked over to where he had seen the killer. He was gone …. Marty would swear he had just seen the man? Looking back it was near the restroom he would catch another sight of the infamous NYC serial killer and he was leading a woman out the emergency exit. No…. no, this was not happening. Marty would stumble to get out of his seat and nearly fall over. Rushing then as fast as he could to the door he had just watched the pair go out of. No matter how hard he pushed at the door, it simply wouldn’t open. Marty would curse under his breath, turning as he fumbled through the pockets of his jacket, finally pulling out his phone. Hurried, he made his way to towards the front entrance of the club, pushing through the drunk crowd. He would press call the moment he made it outside and press the phone to his ear.

*”Hey Marty, what the **** do you want man?”* The voice of his longtime friend, now boss’s voice sounded with a joking tone and Marty was frantic as he spoke almost breathless. *”I just saw Mack the Knife…. He’s here in Harper rock… I just saw him take a woman out of this club, out the back exit and I couldn’t get out the door after him.”* He spoke all of this while trying to make his way around the outside of the club to where that emergency exit had gone out to. *”Marty, how much have you had to drink? It’s Halloween, you probably just saw someone who looked like him.”* He didn’t believe him? *”I only had the one drink at the club and only a few back at the hotel….. I’ll just call you in the morning.”*

There was no explaining it, Marty knew he needed to get proof. He just hung up the phone and would pocket it. The device would buzz, and he knew it was his friend calling back but he had no interest in talking further. He knew it was Randall Thorne, he had met the man once back in New York. It was an interview for a fluff peace for the magazine he worked for. The article was to be about the young and rich, all about the places they liked to vacation. Mr. Thorne had shared all about how he vacationed in the Hamptons. Marty had sat for a few hours in Randall’s high rise apartment that overlooked central park. Interviewing the unknown killer, and sharing a few drinks of some of the most expensive liquor he had ever tasted.

At the time Marty had admired such a man, finding it impressive how he had made such a name for himself at such a young age. It was only later Marty would realize what name the man had truly made for himself. Mack the Knife was the name the papers had given Randall Thorne when the killings started. Most of the city viewed him as a vigilante of sorts at first, all up until that undercover cop had been killed. Slowly the truth had all come out and Randall Thorne had been nowhere to be found, until now that is. Marty’s heart raced faster as he caught sight once again of Randall, he was walking out of the ally, alone. The woman? Where was the woman? She was likely dead, maybe even cut to shreds like his victims of the past.

Marty acted fast then, pulling his phone back out he would click on his camera app and push through to get closer to Randall. Only once he was closer, he would slow his pace and try and act natural. Working his way to walk not too far in front of the killer. Holding his phone out he had to try and get a picture of his face. Marty had to hold it up a little to be clear of the others and once he could see Randall’s face in the screen, he clicked and captured the picture. Marty didn’t wait to see if he had been noticed, holding the phone in a tight grip, he took off running across the street. Running hard, he took the first turn that he could and kept going. Only after a fair distance and a few more turns would he duck into an ally to catch his breath. Holding out his phone he looked down to the picture he had taken. It was him, it was Randall Thorne and Marty attached the image to an email ready to send. It never would get sent though….

[Thorne (DELETED 7278)]

A hand reached out and caught the young writer's wrist in an iron grip. Marty could never have realized that it was his own heartbeat which had given him away.

___________________________________________________________

Randall Thorne had begun to understand why vampires might shy away from coming out on Halloween. As he moved away from the scene of his crime, he couldn't help but feel somewhat conspicuous, dressed conservatively, though stylishly, in his tailored Saville Row suit, in the midst of the garish and sometimes obscene costumes of tonight's celebrants of a holiday which they did not even truly understand.

He had first heard the beating heart as he was wading through the milling crowd of curious club goers. Through the opiated masses, the heartbeat had begun to catch the attention of his supernaturally attuned senses. Though some may have been panicky at first when the alarm initially went off, the costumed party goers who crowded the street in front the The Metronome Club were now mostly curious, chatting casually as they waited for the opportunity to re enter the club and either resume their drinking or collect their belongings and move on to another location. Their casual pulses had formed a dull roar akin to their inane conversation.

So why was one of them so nervous? The thudding heart grew closer, pinging off of Thorne's ears like sonar. As he continued to move towards his path of egress at the outskirts of the crowd, Randall Thorne's eyes scanned the crowd, looking for an expression of terror to match the frantically beating muscle in said person's chest. Then Thorne heard the artificial "click" of a camera phone, and suddenly, the frantic organ and its owner were moving away from him again, the increasing distance creating a doppler effect. THUMP Thump thump thump.

Thorne knew immediately what had just transpired, but he also recognized that he could do nothing about it under these circumstances. So he continued on his designated path, but somewhat more slowly, as he watched the retreating back of the stranger who had been so determined to take his picture. He was rewarded with seeing the stranger break from the crowd and head in what he must have assumed was a safe direction. The poor fool could not have realized that safety was now forever more a thing of the past.

Thorne slipped past the outskirts of the crowd. Knowing his frantic admirer would probably be casting furtive glances backwards to check for pursuit, Thorne noted the direction of the amateur photographer's intended path, and then headed in the opposite direction, moving around a corner and heading down a street that ran parallel to the path of his prey. Checking to make sure there would be no witnesses, and satisfied that he had successfully left the other exiles from the club behind, Thorne began moving with inhuman speed to each upcoming corner. Upon reaching a cross street down which he could observe, Thorne waited, watching, until he saw the lone figure hurrying down the parallel street. Then, when the stranger was once again out of sight, Thorne repeated the pattern.

They had gone about four blocks, when Thorne came to the mouth of an alley. Though the view was blocked with dumpsters, fire escapes, etc., Thorne could tell that the alley must run perpendicular between the two routes he and his prey were taking. Years of instincts acquired from hunting and killing human prey told Randall Thorne that this was an opportunity not to be missed. Using his vampiric celerity, he once again moved faster than any normal human could, dodging overturned trash cans and debris with the grace of a ballet dancer. Finding an opportune spot to hide, he waited for the soon to be dead man to pass by the mouth of the alley. This would be the moment when Thorne would strike and end this little game.

So it was with no small delight when Thorne heard approaching footsteps and realized that his prey was actually entering the alley. Like a fly into a web. In less than a second Thorne was on the man, not caring if the soon to be corpse saw him move more quickly than a human should. A cold white hand snaked out and took hold of the stranger's wrist in a crushing vice. Thorne had studied pressure points, among his other pursuits, finding them eminently useful in the torture of his victims. Applying one now, he firmly pinched two of his fingers together until they almost met through the soft flesh of this young man's wrist. The ensuing spasm caused the phone to tumble from numb fingers and clatter to the dirty pavement. It had not broken, Thorne noted, with some disappointment, but there was time enough for that later.

Looking over his newest victim, Randall Thorne cocked his head slightly. The bespectacled young man looked oddly familiar to him. As Thorne inspected the man's features for further clues to his identity, he spoke. "I am a man who values his privacy. I do not appreciate you taking my picture without my permission." His words were accented by further crushing pressure placed upon the young man's wrist. "Please tell me who you are and what the **** you think you were doing back there!"

[Marty James]

He had been felt so sure about not being caught. Yet the very man he had run to get away from, was standing before him. How had the man gotten here before him? There was no possible expiation…. The tight grip held, caused his hand to spasm as pain shot through his wrist to the tips of his fingers. Marty watched as his phone fell to the pavement. As much as it hurt, he would not dare give the killer the satisfaction of even a whimper. Gritting his teeth a moment, he went over many ways how this could all play out in thought. Yet every one ended the same, him dead somewhere, this situation clearly looked grim for him. Marty’s heart was racing, he could feel the release of adrenalin fueling him for a natural fight or flight reflex. Though with the hold the man held on him, there was no way he was getting free, short of cutting his own hand off.

Randall spoke then, and would apply further pressure with his hold. Referred pain began to creep up his arm. Though as much as Marty’s legs wanted to buckle, and his mouth cry out in agony, he would force himself to laugh. He laughed hard, giving a shake of his head as he looked from the hold the man held on him, then to meet his gaze. Marty saw it as he was dead anyways, might as well go down with any amount of dignity that he could manage to hold onto. ”Imagine my surprise to see you here……. Randall Thorne” He paused then, maybe it would have been assumed to be for dramatic effect, but Marty had to keep his breath under control. The pain from the man’s hold made it even difficult to speak. Marty held himself quite well though, making sure his words were steady.

”Just figured I would get a picture for some of your friends back home.” He would allow a smile to twist across his lips, perhaps he looked a little crazy, but he had to be a little out of his mind to be talking to a serial killer in such a way. ”They sure have been looking for you, though most supposed you were dead….. Won’t they be surprised?” He didn’t know where the strength for all of this was coming from, maybe the adrenal hormones, but Marty held on. ”Long way from New York…. I can’t help but wonder what brought you all the way to Canada.” Marty had to think then to what the man had asked him. He had clearly confessed to what he had been doing, only thing left was to explain who he was.

”I’m not surprised that you don’t remember me…. It was a long time ago. I though never forget a face, especially one as famous as yours.” with each passing moment, Marty expected it to come, death. He had to think of something, anything fast. A miracle to somehow get out of this situation, hopeless as it all seemed. Something happened then, his phone that was on the ground would light up and buzz. Someone was calling him and Marty got just the slightest ray of hope. ”That must be my editor…. I had called him back in the club when I first noticed you. Told him all about that woman you took out the back of the club with you. He was still holding on, still going to keep on with his words even though the pain was overwhelming.

”He didn’t believe me, that’s what the picture was for. Though if you kill me now, and I go missing…. He will have reason to believe my story…." Not that he thought it would work, talking his way out, but it was worth a try. It was better than begging, better than just giving up. ”We could make this easy, you and I….. You let me go, and it will just be another way your legacy can live on. I could tell of how I got away from Mack the Knife, and you have enough time to get away and go into hiding once more.” Marty doubted his own words, though spoke them as confidently as he could. His phone had beeped then, likely Mike had left a message. Marty wished many things in this moment, one wish being that he would have just minded his own and stayed at the club. Where had his curiosity gotten him….. Likely six feet under it would seem.

[Thorne (DELETED 7278)]

As the silly little spectacled man had been speaking, Thorne had been lost in thought, running through all of the delicious ways that he could end the man's life. Thorne doubted he would feed off of this ridiculous mortal. Snow White had been quite the feast, and the edge of his hunger was temporarily abated. Minus the desire to keep him intact enough to drink his blood, the possibilities were endless. Thorne had just reached option #5 in his mind (skinning him alive!) when something clicked. Thorne cocked his head quizzically and inspected the man's face as the fool continued to spout worthless threats. Mack the Knife, Thorne thought with distaste. I always hated that name. Then suddenly, recognition was there.

"Martin!" Thorne beamed as if greeting an old friend, even as his fingers continued to dig into Marty James's wrist, creating ugly welts and threatening to crack the bones underneath. "How are you old boy? Well, other than the fact that I'm about to kill you, obviously!" Thorne chuckled genially. "Still writing for that shitty little magazine and pretending you're a journalist? I read that piece you wrote on me and Paris Hilton and the others. Pure crap. I used to keep it on my coffee table and show visitors just so we could laugh at it."

Thorne was still speaking in the pleasant tones of a man making friendly conversation. However, as his grin widened. His teeth had begun elongating. sharpening. The fangs were unmistakable as the revealed themselves right before Marty's eyes. Thorne's eyes shone in the darkness, their murderous intent in contrast to the jovial lilt of his voice. But the eyes were like thunderheads announcing the approaching storm. Like a darkening sky, the tone of Thorne's voice changed to one of pure menace. "Now then, you pathetic little worm. Let's get down to brass tacks, shall we? I'm not leaving Harper Rock. This town has made me into something you can't even begin to understand. New York is a distant memory for me now. Randall Thorne is dead, and this is what rose from the ashes." Thorne had maneuvered his prey so that he was now between Marty and the entrance to the alley. He released Marty's wrist, and with his other hand, simultaneously gave the young writer a superhuman shove that sent him flailing back further into the darkness, further away from any hope of rescue. With an incredible burst of speed, Thorne was on him in a second, standing over Marty's sprawling frame.

"So, what are you going to tell your editor now, Martin? That you spotted Mack the Knife, and he's a vampire? Enjoy spending the rest of your days working for the Weekly World News." Thorne smirked as he spoke, his contempt obvious on his face. "So let me tell you what's going to happen instead. I'm going to leave you alive, for now, as much as flaying the skin from your body had a certain appeal. But trust me, it will be more fun to watch the torture you endure having this story and never being able to tell a soul. Because I will be watching you Martin. And I will know if you tell anyone."

Thorne strolled casually back to the mouth of the alley, and picked up Marty James's phone. "I'm going to borrow this, just for a little while. Tomorrow you will find it delivered back to the front desk of whatever sorry little flea dump of a hotel you're staying at. In that time, I will have gone through your contacts, I will have identified and traced all the numbers, and I will have a list of people who I will be killing slowly and horribly, if I ever discover that you've revealed my secret. Do you have a wife Martin? She'll be first on my list." Thorne beamed like a summer day. Watching the fear on his victims' faces was his bread and butter. He didn't bother to ask whether Marty James understood all the things he had just said. He didn't really care. He would have fun either way.

Thorne pocketed the phone, and with a wink and a grin at Marty, he was gone.