Guess Who is Coming to Dinner-(Doc)

[Dominique]

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

:ll: P L A Y L I S T :ll:

Dominique: With the office door partially ajar and within her sights the elusive shadow returns once again on her nightly rounds to check in on her creator and sire. In an odd twist of the perpetrator always returning to the scene of the crime it is she that returns instead to him by choice. One that has formed over time, conflict and war. Now in the peace she finds her way slowly down the hall of the building he owns like a night prowler. Silent steps leaving no trail behind, no eyes catching sight of her swaddled in the shadows that embrace her tighter each night as she rises. The final step has her unseen as she melts into a tiny ball of fur and steps out of her veil of dark shadows. Once released from their hold she pounces his foot. Her claws hook into his pants leg and soon she is climbing up him like she owns the body beneath. Her little pelt of fur is shivering as she purrs. Her wide ears perked to alert mode as she reaches his chest. Soon her face rubs at the side of his neck as she claims her spot on his shoulder. His little demon in the making found her throne. She was so pleased with herself she begins taking a bath.

Doc: Doc was in the study going over the number for the new building he was wanting to purchase. He had a general location picked out, but so far he had not had any luck finding the right spot. He had been about to make a call, when the needle sharp claws of kitten snagged his pant leg. He stopped what he was doing and leaned back and watched her progress. She finally settled in the crook of his neck. Her dainty Little tongue stroked her front paw and swiped at her ear. He rubbed his fore finger down the back of her head.

Dominique: Her tiny face vibrated next to his ear as her cool wet nose brushed against it. There was nothing like those fingers and she couldn't resist them. She took the space on his shoulder and rolled to lay on her back then roll again to wrap and curl around the side of his neck. Her tiny sandpaper tongue licked his neck in slow repeated strokes.

Doc: The needles hooked into his leg and it was like the sweetest torture. It let him know she was there, and that she could be deadly if she wanted, but for him at this moment she was a kitten, she was his and his alone. What she showed others, well that was part of the illusion. If there was one thing Doc was capable of, it was creating the needed illusion. His kitten had learned that well. It had been a long time coming, years in fact. But it was time well spent, and begrudged none of it.

Dominique: The scent of him was in her fur and passed across her nose as she curled her head in tight under her little paws. Each one pressed over her face blocking out the light. She felt the tickle of his collar move as his body did. One eye opened enough for her to peek at what dared to interrupt her time with him. Of course the phone. A soft sound rumbled from her throat. That phone of his was getting damn annoying. Later she would tell him it was off limits during her visits. For now she was doing her best to stick to him like velcro while he took the call.

Doc: The phone rang, his caressing of the kitten paused as he moved to answer the phone. Being in a relaxed mood, Doc answered without actually looking at who was called. He really should have. The word "Nilson." was barely out before the female on the other end started in on him. "Charles. What kind of son are you? Your father just got a major award. He was recognized for his life achievements! And you were not there!" Doc sucked in a calming breath, and replied in a flat voice, "You mean the man that beat me repeatedly until I was old enough to fight the **** back?" The voice on the other end was scandalized.

Doc: "CHARLES!" There was a gasp of indignation, "Remember who you are talking to! And my god Charles. Must you dwell on things so far in the past? You're not lame or deformed.. You have a legacy to live up to. And .. " she paused, her nagging shrieking voice taking on a guilt laying tone, "I haven't seen anything of note that ...you ...have put out in the last few years.. " She tutted, "Did you give up? Because you aren't as good as your father? Hmm?" Doc clenched his teeth. "Mother. I will never attend anything that honors your husband." He heard the sighs of exasperation, "My husband Charles? really? You mean your FATHER! Just admit it Charles. You're Jealous." The smugness of her voice clearly came over the line. Doc pinched the bridge of his nose, his whole body going tense as he lied evenly. "I am due in surgery. Good bye Mother." he disconnected.

Dominique: Something could be said for those ears of hers. Outside the fact she felt like she could tip over at any moment with their size alone. They were the biggest part on her sand kitten body and just so happened to be right next to the cell phone that was interrupting her massage. The sound of the callers voice instantly set her fur up on the back of her spine. She tried not to perk up more and have him realize she was listening.

Doc had told her about his family and growing up on the unexpected road trip they took. It was sad to say the very least. Now that they were growing closer and more comfortable it actually irritated her even more hearing the woman's voice be so rude. He could break her spine before she could say another word and she had no idea. She could see where the ignorance of humans could wear slowly on the immortal constantly exposed to such. Her mouth kept on going. The fact the woman was alive was a miracle.

Dominique couldn't ignore the feeling that several of the numerous hairs on her tiny right paw were uncomfortably out of place. That meant he would realize she was awake. She had to...just absolutely had to brush them back in place with her tongue or she would lose her mind. While she groomed herself for the fourth time in less than an hour she plotted. There would be a hunt. She was going on a trip. Her tongue slid between her tiny hook like claws and would have smiled if she could. He looked out for her and now she was going to do the same for him. He just wouldn't know. As for the killing. Practice would make perfect...eventually.

[Doc]

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

Doc: Doc sat the phone down Doc sat the phone down with distaste. How much longer could they ******* live? She was 76.. and his biological donor .. because he refused to call him father, was 79. Where the **** were the diseases that were meant to take them out? He had been hoping for coronary heart disease for his biological donor since he had been in University. And Her? How many times he had pictured her being mowed down by a taxi; blown up by a bad bank heist; killed by a disgruntled maid or gardener; and still over the years.. they lived. They lived and perpetuated the fact that they had been the 'perfect family'. The family everyone else envied.

But what people did not know, was that Doc bore the brunt of that 'perfect' family. When his 'biological donor' was passed over for promotion.. who paid the price? Charles did. When his biological donor got reprimanded for his aggressive behavior.. who paid the price? Charles did. When his 'biological donor' got fired for discrimination.. who paid the price? Charles did. Maybe that was why he felt so strongly for protecting and encouraging females? Because his father beat them down. He would never know, because he was going to kill them. His mind was made up.

Dominique: Slowly that tiny tongue came out and stroked the side of his neck. It was cool and so slow it would seem the sandpaper like surface was nearly stuck in place on his skin. Several times she repeated the action then lifted up and stretched. A tiny purr was heard as she moved around on his shoulder then used it as a platform to hop down on his lap then spring from there to the floor.

Dominique had some plans to make and now some private business to take care. As her tiny little paws stepped towards the door she turned back once and a fluid shift had her rising in the blink of an eye to full height ink flesh and all. She smiled back at him as HOPE turned the knob and pulled the door open. Her fingers curled around the side of door then tapped in parting. The door closed behind her and off she went. Soon she would not only be hearing that voice on the phone but also that one that seems to have made a huge and not so wonderful impact on Doc's life.

Doc: Doc’s moment of peaceful respite had come to an end. His mother had ruined that perfect moment. His mother’s voice was now gone, but so was his kitten. His thoughts grew dark as old memories came rushing back. Trying in vain to banish the unwanted memories to the black abyss, all the old emotions and hurts weighed on him. He stood and paced about the study. His jaw muscles clenched in his attempt to rid his mind of the unwanted moments in time that laid him low and weak. His hands clenched and unclenched unconsciously. Eyes narrowed to angry slits. Over the years he had tried various means of dispelling the black moods when they came. There was only one known cure, violence.

Early on, he discovered the cure. He had been a wet behind the ears teenager, filled with rage, disgust and self-loathing because he couldn’t best his father. Oh he had tried. But the old ******** had no problem turning his fists toward his mother, when his son stood up to him. It would be years before he discovered the key to keep the old ******** in line. But until then, he needed an outlet, and he found it in the form of violence against others. His first kill at the age of seventeen, was a hooker that first teased him, and then later scoffed at him for his youth and lack of finesse. She paid the price with her life and he had discovered a catharsis for anger. He began to employ it routinely. He justified it, by choosing people just like the old ********. Those that belittled and picked on those weaker than themselves. After all, wasn’t the world a better place without those sorts? As he aged, the list expanded to drug pushers, thugs, and other people of low repute.

Dominique: The trip to Toronto was uneventful. Nothing really happened in the middle of the night between Harper Rock and where she currently sat. Nothing that was monumental or worth remembering anyway. The custom leather seat beneath her was warming up and that was a good thing. Not that she needed it to survive. She was perfectly preserved down to her cooler than November lake water veins. No amount of early frost was going to take its toll on her. The expired Slim Jim currently tumbling around in her mouth smelled better than it tasted. It was the perk of being nearly dead. Nothing could really kill you since something or someone else did the job.

[Dominique]

While Dominique sat in the car with her feet casually propped up on the dash her eyes were fixed on the building she had been watching for the last two hours. Each time a minute was added to the clock on the dashboard and there was no sign of Evelyn Nilson, Mrs. Sunshine herself, the amount of sharp edges that would eventually be applied increased. The time did offer up the benefit of entertaining some disturbingly ample worst case scenarios. Each one she gave attention to the finest details so that when it all went down she was more than ready for any what-if’s that could possibly be thrown at her.

Mrs. Sunshine turned out to be everything and yet nothing Dominique expected. When she finally got the information on her that surprisingly was easy to obtain without leaving a trail she discovered that the ice queen made a lifeswork out of whining and being more of a turtle than Rufus was. When **** hit the fan Ev-baby was looking for the first place out in the open to hide and file her immaculate nails while appearing to be the epitome of unshaken upper class. If there was a blow up at home it was just as Doc summed it up...his *** was offered up so the woman in her classic Chanel suit wouldn’t have to explain why her eyes were blacker than the current trend in Vogue.

Mr. Sunshine was perfect for the Mrs. in the Nilson case. Evelyn needed a reason to cry and have excuses on bowing out on being a capable and vibrant woman and Lars gave her all of that and so much more. He was a chameleon and a piece of work. The surgeon that was highly respected and renowned to have the intellect of a genius in his chosen field lived his off hours like a mad general taking out his drunken and deranged tantrums on his wife and only child. No one questioned that he could dig deep into a body and find what no tests could. He saved countless lives and perform miracles that went into textbooks. Yet as brilliant and powerful as he was at restoring his patients quality of life he took pleasure in tearing apart his own family in the cruelest ways possible.

The Slim Jim in her hand was gone. The only thing left outside the sour cloud of seasoned meat stick was the plastic wrapper that once encased it. Dominique rolled it quickly between the middle of her palms as if she was going to create flames from the friction of her lightning fast hands rubbing together. She plucked the tight plastic ball in her hand from the center of HOPE and dropped it in the console between the front buckets seats.

“How long does it take to kill two birds with one stone?"

Her own words filled the interior of the car as she clicked for a decent station to pick-up. Adelle’s overplayed “Hello” was going strong before she could reach into her black canvas bag and pull out her own music. She loaded it and the much more appropriate song selection for the night of madness fired up.

[Doc]

It was several hours after his kitten had left, that Doc finally returned his thoughts to the parents. Several hours and two dead bodies later, to be exact. Two bodies that had stood in symbolically for the parents he despised. While he had been human, he had made peace with the fact that there was no way he could kill them without being seen as the obvious suspect. Made peace with compartmentalizing things, and shoving them as far away from his life as possible.

It started by Doc leaving Toronto and moving to Harper Rock. Harper Rock was ‘nowhere’ in the scope of medicine that his biological donor had decreed as important. So that was why Doc had chosen it. He chose medicine for a variety of reasons, but none of them revolved around making his parents proud. Far from it. He went into medicine because he had a morbid curiosity with the ability of the human body. As youth, he had gotten sloppy with one of his early victims. The prostitute should not have survived. The blood loss alone was enough to doom her to death. But months later he had seen her back on the street. How did she survive? That gnawed at him. He wasn’t concerned about her turning him in. She was hooker, he was the son of a prominent surgeon. He was also.. a child, in the eyes of the law. But exactly how did she survive? Other victims of his had died from less egregious wounds, so why hadn’t she? That thought ate at him. he began stalking her, watching her, trying to pin down why she survived. Her daily habits were pathetic. She rarely ate, she got high right before she would prostitute herself for the night. By rights her immune system should have been shot to hell and her resistance at zero; how did she survive? But she lived when others with stronger bodies did not. Thus started his quest for finding that ‘thing’ that allowed one person to survive when others did not.

That quest slowly morphed over the years to his desire to improve the human body. Doc had seen butchered and mangled bodies of soldiers hear and repair when, science decreed they should have died on the battlefield, only to come back to the ‘real world’ and live the rest of their life as a cripple, shunted to the sidelines and forgotten. So his quest evolved into creating a superhuman. There was more than enough black operation military funding for that sort of thing. However since his turning, his human quests had been forgotten. Even though part of him still wanted to create that super human fighter, Doc knew it would be used against the vampire race. So he had thrown himself into his businesses, in hopes that he would forget that desire, and it had worked for the most part.. until his mother had called.

Now the past, along with the good, the bad, and the things he had tried to blot out of existence in his mind, all came rushing back. His hard fought for composure had broken. It had broken, and two people had died. It had broken because of her. It was clear to him now. He would never be able to move forward until they were dead. He had to kill his human parents.

[Doc]

It was another normal run of the mill night. The nights seemed to blend one into another, when the nights had very little to distinguish them. Days could be gloomy or bright and cheery, they could be dreary or hot and hazy. But nights.. they typically fell into moonlit versus non moon lit; and wet versus dry. Tonight was a lit night as Doc stepped out of the Lab for his usual smoke break. Smoking was the one vice he held on to from his human days. Then he had to sneak a smoke.. mostly because he was ******* tired of patients telling him he should know better than to smoke. **** them. Now he could smoke he all wanted and there were no repercussions. His lungs healed almost immediately; and the actual plus side, it made him appear more human. However, because he wanted to keep the lab as clean and sterile as possible, he made sure not to smoke inside the building even though the air scrubbers would clean the air. It became a nightly habit of taking a stroll and having a cigarette or two, before going back to work.

Tonight was no different from the hundreds before it. In truth, Doc expected nothing special or eventful to befall him as he lit his cig and headed southwest from the lab. The only difference in this night’s smoke break than the one before it, was that he altered his route every night. He hated being predictable, yet, due his personality, he was more predictable than he liked. So when he had a chance to be random, he took it. He had no direction in mind as he wandered and smoked. His mood was affable for the most part, which for him was saying something. Usually it didn’t take much to set him off. But tonight, the employees were all on time. The Asylum was running fine and he didn’t need to go by there to night. The Forbidden Desires made a decent profit the night before, so the females in the stable were finally starting to realize he meant ******* business when said something. Genesis Solutions had a record of ten for ten with customers being highly pleased, that meant all he really needed to worry about workwise was the Lab, and he could handle that with his eyes closed. There was no reason for him to be in hurry to head back.

His wandering stride took him away from the city, toward Solace. As he got closer to Solace, an idle thought about seeing what Pratt was up to crossed his mind. It had been weeks, no, months since he had heard anything from him. As much as he was tempted to poke about, he was also happy to have Pratt being ******* silent. That thought made his mind move to the other person or persons in his life that he was ******* tired of hearing from, and that was his biologics. The mere thought of two them, made the cigarette, which was normally without taste, now sour in his mouth. His lip curved in visible distaste. But it was the thoughts that caused the reaction, not the taste. Once again, thoughts of dispatching the two of them came forward in his mind. He had actually spent quite a bit of time mulling over the different ways to kill them. The trick would be making sure he wasn’t fingered as a suspect.. what so ever. And if he was, he needed to put things into place so that if he “disappeared’, he would still retain control over his businesses. And that thought led him to the realization, that he needed to start distancing himself from the hospital.

If Doc were to succeed in killing them, and not get pulled in as a suspect, great. But, he would have to have an air tight alibi to pull that off. If he were to be severals hours away from Harper Rock in Toronto.. his absence would be noticed by his various different businesses and employees. Being a micromanager, as his employees often complained, when he wasn’t around, they knew it. He wasn’t worried about the actual act of killing the biologics, not by any means. He had learned a great little power that let him steal another person’s face, so that wasn’t an issue. But if he didn’t have a legitimate alibi, it wouldn’t take a halfway decent detective long to find out how much he hated them, then it wasn’t that big of a leap to ‘maybe he had them killed’. He also would not ask anyone to lie for him. If he were going to do this.. it would be him and him alone. The first thing he needed to do, was to find out.. just how far away would his power of teleport work, and possibly.. his faction home tome. The second option was not one he really wanted to rely on, he didn’t want to leave any reason for any human to nose about the faction. Keeping the event confined to himself, and himself alone, was key. The only way to find out how far away his teleport skills would work, was to start testing them.

Hours later after Doc had locked the Lab for the night, he got into the company van and started driving north. Hitting the northern city limits of Harper Rock, he noted the time. He would drive exactly one hour north, and then attempt to teleport back to the city. At the appointed time, sixty minutes later, he pulled the van off the road and into a shallow opening into the wilderness forest. He was in the middle of ******* nowhere. Exiting the drivers seat, after he pulled out the ignition key, and locked the doors, he straightened and attempted to teleport back to Harper Rock. Concentrating, he focused on a spot just north of the Cherrydale Transit station. A moment later he coalesced in the area he had hoped.

Doc’s triumphant grin faded as the Ball and Chain failed to answer her phone. She was probably tied up with Freddie, the Asylum’s frequent flyer. He sighed in annoyance. ******* Freddie and his frequent ‘psychotic breaks’. They always just ‘had to happen’ when Doc needed Cytherea to do something, for him. It was like Freddie had a sixth sense about knowing when Doc needed her, Freddie would have a melt down, and Cyth would of course help the patient instead of him. The phone call went to voicemail. ****. Now how the **** was he supposed to get his van back?

In a disgruntled fashion, he pulled out his cell phone and texted Mortll, *Text* Are you busy?

[Doc]

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

Mortll: She pulled out her phone it's angry buzzing quite annoying she looked it was from Doc. She paused a moment This couldn't be good he hadn't so much as called her since they had fought last even though she had spoken to him and smoothed things over. They had not seemed to managed to even be in the same room as one another much less spoken or contacted each other . She punched at the screen 'Text" I was i'm free now what is up ?

Doc: A look of relief, eased the annoyed look that he had been wearing earlier. *Text* I need a ride to pick up my van.. About an hour north..

Mortll: Mortll looked at the Text this was odd he had any number of spawn to take him not to mention the ball and chain as he so lovingly called her. She started to type in ‘why don't you have the old ball and chain take you?’ But he was reaching out to her in his way and it wouldn't do to give him hell about it just yet. She could wait. He must be in some sort of bind anyway to be calling her. "Text " Ok Where should I pick you up

Doc: There was a longer pause than usual. Doc pressed his lips together into a grim line. ****. That meant she didn't want to. He sighed, he thought they had gotten past this ****. He was just about to text Cat, when he received a reply. He read it. Alright agreed to help him, but it seemed grudging at best. He wasn't going to make a big deal out of it. He was going to accept it, and keep his mouth ******* shut. *Text* I can meet you at Jardin. It's not far.

Mortll: "Text" Ok wait outside" She opened her desk drawer and pulled out the keys to the 1965 chevy Corvette stingray. It was pitch black with chrome wheels her baby. She grabbed a coat and walked the short distance to the West towers parking garage and down to her slot. Opening the door she slid into the tan leather bucket seat. She smiled as the engine roared to life.

Doc: Doc dutifully arrived and waited outside of Jardin, for her. Did she want him to wait outside, because she didn't want him in her business? He had presumed that was where she was. While they had been together, she was always there. Mostly to get rid of and compost bodies, but the point was she was always there, but now he wasn't welcome? Maybe he took the word truce to to mean more than she did. He grumped to himself as he waited for her to exit, only to see a black Corvette pull up beside him. Doc gave the car an appreciative look, and opened the passenger door. "Hello Mortll." He got into the low slung car, and looked at her as he shut the door. "I thought you were inside.." he gestured toward the flower store. "I didn't call in the middle of a date did I?"

Mortll: Mortll’s eyebrow raised "I was inside all nice and toasty then my ex called and asked for a ride something that cannot be accomplished without a car that doesn't quite fit indoors." She paused a moment, she guessed asking about a date was his way of prying and seeing if she had truly moved on and if he was safe riding with her. "If I were on a date I wouldn't be taking you wherever it is you want to go. But you can relax I’m not going to molest you or anything of the sort, even if you wanted me to." she said wryly.

Doc: Doc grinned, "Really? What If I asked nicely?" His tone was teasing, but before he let her answer, he added, "Thank you for the ride.. The ball and chain didn't answer, when I tried her." He could explain that Cytherea was at work with patients, but he didn't feel the need to expound, and .. he figured Mortll didn't want to hear about her anyway. "The van is one hour north of here..at 115 kph. THis shouldn't have any problem doing that.. Nice ride..."

Mortll: She chuckled, "No it has no problem doing that and a few other things I've had it modified for well, when I get in a pinch, I don't want anything breaking if I have to use it a bit roughly if the **** hits the fan and the police or anyone else takes notice. So you want to go fast?" She had a **** eating grin on her face. It was teasing him, but she remembered the cab ride in Rio she had seen a side of Doc that day she thought no one else had ever seen.

Doc: "Well as tempting as that offer is.. my van is one hour north of here.. at 115 kph.. in the middle of ******* nowhere. There are no landmarks, or buildings nothing. Just that. One hour north, at 115." He slid a look at her, "I could have called Cat.. but I know how she drives.. like a bat out of hell.. we would overshoot the ******* thing in all likelihood." What he said was the truth. It was. Even if it was true that most other people's driving make him ******* crazy.

Mortll: She gripped the wheel and pushed in the clutch her other hand putting the car in gear she eased the car into the traffic taking it slow for the moment. She was going to have to make small talk with the man for a hour and focusing on his mouth wasn’t going to get her anywhere but a headache no matter how attractive she found it.

Doc: Doc had not even thought about how awkward it would be to ride in silence for an hour. This truce of theirs was a ******* pain in the ***. Was she quiet because she didn't really want to help but felt compelled to due to the truce? Or was it because she still angry with him? He was horrible with chit-chat. He was almost tempted to pick a fight, anything.. to break the silence. He couldn't help but sigh audibly.

Mortll: She looked over at him neither had spoken a word yet other than civil greetings well as civil as the two of them could possibly get. Others would have witnessed one of their conversations in the past and thought they were angry or fighting when it was furthest from the truth . Then there were times they could spend time together in complete silence quite content with each others company for hours without a single word being said. Things had sadly changed that comfort level with each other had been totally obliterated and now with that sigh she guessed she was going to have to find something to talk about even if it wasn't pleasant to ease his state of uncomfort. "So how are all the spawn?" her words broke the silence and hung there flailing like a fish desperate to get back into the water.

Doc: Doc had never been so grateful for an actual quantifiable question in his life. He was **** with small talk. Polite conversation was something that he just didn't grasp. When he tried it, it always blew up in his face, so he mostly quit trying. But the spawns, he could talk about. His grim look gave way to a begrudging lopsided grin. "I Never thanked you for bidding on Dawnie in the auction. I was ******* mad as hell when I found out she joined it. I mean, what the **** was she thinking? She has panic attacks around people, so what does she do? Joins something where she has to put herself on display.. in front of people." He snorted, "If she thought I was going to bid on her and save her ***.. she had another thing coming. When you first bid on her.. I thought.. great.. Mortll is going to save her. What kind of ******* lesson is that? But then.. when Her time with you was over.. Dawnie come over and swore she would never be in an auction again." He smirked, "Whatever the **** you did.. it worked. she wont be selling herself anymore.."

Mortll: Mortll chuckled "Well to be honest I think I pushed her limits a bit. I took her to my Kitchen and put her to the test... to make sure she would actually defend herself. She's got some moves on her but she doesn't want to kill anyone even if they are trying to rip her head off you might want to work on her with that a little bit. I didn't do anything that would have harmed her but she is good with dismembering corpses. Though I did think if it were possible she would have been hurling a few times she bucked up and finished the job however " she laughed yeah I doubt she will put herself in that position again either .

[Mortll]

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

Doc: Doc looked thoughtful for a few minutes, then finally said, "You know.. it's odd. A person would think that you would want the same goals for all your spawn. I did.. at first. But, each spawn is different. What I want and expect from Catherine.. is not what I want and expect from Dawnie. Now, Catherine better ******* know how to defend herself and take out anyone who tries to kill her, and those that do try to kill her, better watch their back, because she doesn't forget. But Dawnie.. I don't want her to be a fighter. It's not in her nature. And I don't want it to be her nature. I want her to be the baby. To doted on by the others. Leo...? Well I would be thrilled if she would just ******* speak to me. Talk about holding a grudge..."

Mortll: Well isn't she the one that you dumped into a cesspool ? I’d hold a ******* grudge too." she smiled at him "I didn't break your little one but she is capable of defending herself .... to a point she doesn't finish them off that is a problem when it is a vampire but the rest of this human scum around here you wont have to worry about her she can put them down fairly easily."

Doc: "In fairness.. I thought she was ******* dead." He said in an exasperated voice. "If I knew she wasn't.. I would have finished her.. Who the **** knew you could turn someone just by biting them.. **** Me I thought you had to drain their ***.. " He snorted, before turning the conversation back to Dawnie. "I just hope Dawnie is never put in that position. Push come to shove, I think she could do it. But it would change her. She wouldn't be so caring and easygoing."

Mortll: "Well I was worried about that and I figured it would be better to see, than have her in any real danger and not being able to. I kinda like her even if she wont drink human blood." she wrinkled her nose up at the thought of the ones that drank the blood of the rats in the sewers, disgusting disease carrying things that they were. Imagining getting that nasty fur stuck in your teeth led to a grimace on her face.

Doc: Doc turned and looked at her, his face wearing a strange expression. Not Drink blood? Then as he thought it about it, he vaguely remembered, Dawnie saying something about human blood and something.. had she told him that? Probably. And he ******* forgot. Mortll just reminded him. He used the pause to rant, “What is the aversion? Seriously? It can’t be the taste. First, Dominique, then Leo.. now Dawnie. I am ******* cursed.” He had dodged a bullet with Dawnie, and he owed Mortll, again.

Mortll: "Well I had a fresh one caged up he tried to mug me in a alleyway while I was hunting and ended up well regretting being the lowlife child molesting wife beating rapist he was... he had been stewing for 3 days there without his tongue and, I told him he could have his freedom if he killed the girl. I lied of course and if she hadn't defended herself, I had a gun on him but, I didn't have to do anything until she refused to kill him or drink any type of human blood ... It is good to know she can handle herself pretty well." She took a quick glance at him the focused back on the road Why the **** was she obsessing on that man's mouth.

Doc: Doc nodded, “Yea I have female gang member on ice myself.” He wouldn’t disclose that bit of information to just anyone. Mortll might still be angry with him. But he knew he could trust her. In fact he could trust her more than he could some other people he knew. “I guess I should check on it.. when I get back to the city. ****.” He sounded less than thrilled at the prospect, as though the female was irking him by her presence chained up in his torture chamber. How dare she need something like water.. to survive.

Mortll: Mortll looked over at him again "Well I don't check on mine for days sometimes they have a slow drip as a water source and I don't give a **** if they **** and piss in the cage the high velocity water hose works wonders for that." She said it as if they were talking about the latest cooking show they had seen and the best way to make a baked alaska instead of human torture. "Have you seen Dom ... and how is her situation with Mr Trahison working out?" The last time she had said anything to Doc about that man he had not seemed too pleased with the situation Mortll had yet to fulfill the rest of her contract with him he was still a curiosity.

Doc: “Well it was grab of opportunity. I haven’t diced anything in awhile. I couldn’t let that opportunity slide by. But I didn't have ******* time to do anything, but chain it. I had to be back home, before I was missed. And to be honest, I forgot all about it. If it died.. it died. **** it.. I have an incinerator. It’s the smell of decomp I hate. It just settles into places and refuses to leave.” As she asked about Minx, he frowned, more to himself than for Mortll’s benefit. “You know .. I liked him when I first met him. But the ****** had the gall to brag that he was blackmailing her.” He paused, “You know how I was saying.. what I want for my spawn.. well .. I want her to think beyond the here and now. I want her to think long term. And as much as it ******* annoys me.. I have to let her come to me. I go to her.. I am just purposely pissing in her cornflakes for fun.” He sighed. “She hasn’t come to me yet. I just have to be patient.”

Mortll: "Well I cleaned up a mess he got her in. He is reckless. I kind of got the impression that he wanted me to clean it up alone; that didn't happen and then he got pissed off at me cause I waited to see if he was ok in a Fae attack. He is still a bit on the immature side. He threatened me with how bad he was like a attacking me ... I was sitting there thinking to myself is that what you’re going to pull out of your hat after you participated in the blood hunt." she paused a moment the trees were flying by quickly they were making good time. "I think he has the makings to last in this place but he's going to have to figure out people aren't afraid of him and games will put him on a fast track to spending more time in the dark and alone than he is probably comfortable with."

Doc: Doc watched her as she spoke and drove. He pressed his lips together in a grim line. He really wanted to have a heart to heart with Minx. He rested his elbow on the armrest of the door and sighed. “****.” He sighed again, “This is what I was ******* afraid of. He thinks he is mister bad ***, I know how things stand. Well he isn’t and if he keeps it up, he is going to get Minx ******* killed.. or worse.. he is going to get her ******* labeled as the consort of an idiot.. Like Pratt’s wife.” Doc counted. He just needed to shake this **** off. He had to trust that Minx was not going to be fooled by false bravado. He rolled his head in a circular motion, in order to release the tension that suddenly manifested itself. While he tried to release his tension, he pinched the bridge of his nose.

Mortll: Mortll glanced at him again she hadn't meant to stress him out she was genuinely wanting to know how the girls were doing. ******* hell . she thought to herself suddenly here she went again... She knew he had feelings She knew he cared but the ****** was able to just ditch them on a whim and **** whomever it may hurt to suit his purpose or morality.She couldn't let herself feel any sympathy for him at the moment she couldn't let herself care that he might be in discomfort despite them trying to mend their friendship. "Haven't been keeping up with your massages have you " It came out anyway it sounded more accusatory than she expected. Her knuckles gripped a bit tighter on the steering wheel as she waited for the inevitable response .

Doc: Doc blinked and slowly turned and gave her a look, then despite himself, he laughed. "*****." He raked a hand through his hair, then shook his head. “If you must know .. I opened a new business… It is a therapeutic massage business.” He didn’t add that it was also a high class call girl service. “I am not ready to have an employee rub me down though. They are human.. and I am… well.. quite cool to the touch. And Chub ends up most nights at the house. So let’s just say.. there has not been the occasion to have to one.”

[Dominique]

The time to deck the Nilson halls a bright seasonal red had finally arrived. The sole occupant in the otherwise empty appearing vehicle stirred in order to get another visual at the massive residence towering in the distance. Each passing hour the place became increasingly darker as the interior lights went off one at a time. The last light flickered slowly then was gone.

“Thank ******* god…”

The upholstery of the seat beneath her had a history she could smell and had no interest in thinking about any longer than she possibly had to. The click of the chop shop radio being turned off was a relief as well. There was no way she could handle another round of the playlist that was a great idea when she created it. Now she would likely hear it in her sleep for weeks to come.

Once the mechanic was sure the elderly well to-do couple finally called it a night, the door to the stolen late eighties baby **** yellow Buick opened. A last glance at the vehicle had the shadow looking forward to sending it up in a great ball of fire as soon as she was done inside the home. It would be toast and a call for attention all at once. All of it was part of the plan. LESS pushed the driver's door closed while the petite shadow used her powers to go untraceable and into alter ego. There would be no trace of her being there and for good reason. It was hardly about her. Clearing a security fence and a few neatly trimmed and frozen hedges was all it took for Minxy Claus to move through the shadows to the back of the house.

Prepared and undeterred, she made easy work of the door in the back of the residence. Gloved hands took apart the alarm system that was the best money could buy a decade back. The useless components were neatly pulled from the satin bordered wall with the cornice trim. The place was big and yet only two unhappy people lived there. It was as she had expected as she stepped in. It was dark but not dark enough. The desk was a relic as she passed it with the brush of her denim covered hip. She opened the first drawer and neatly filed the parts inside. The sound of the drawer catching on the finely hand crafted grooves in the wood track took her dangerously far from the place and time she was currently in.

No-skid socks stuck to the white tiled institution flooring beneath the slow relaxed steps of the New York state apprehended Jane Dominique Doe. The judge would want to hear that the barely twenty-one year old female who was up for multiple charges of grand theft auto, was obviously out of her ever loving mind and had some hope of seeing the wrong in her ways. A few ink blots or if anyone touched her wrong? Everything was too predictable. Even the idiots she was currently dealing with needed more help than she did. In a few seconds she summed up what was in the office she walked into. Standing at a conservative six feet with a balding head, was yet another suburban reared degree carrying pinhead that thought the glass sealed parchment on his wall gave him all the answers. The left corner of her mouth went up briefly.

The world wondered why it was fucked up. It was like a soft yogurt machine gone wonky shitting its product of societal madness into the streets. No one fixed anything. It was easier to turn the other cheek and find a book or a number, that made what took too much time to deal with, that much easier to file away as hopeless. The edge of the desk had dust on it and she knew then and there he had his mind on anything but that office. He probably had not even looked at her file. Of course not. He turned to face her and had that look. Like she needed a hug and a box of tissue.

Janie’s mouth relaxed and her head slowly dropped so that those big orbs of darkness rolled up with the decline of her chin. The over inked, recently charged car thief pinned him down with her focus before his book smart brain could connect with his lips and start a conversation. The stiff over pressed suit was tracked long enough to find that it was going to sit this time. Sometimes they did and sometimes they stood. Often it was to appear in control but more often than not these types were wanting to be upright on their two feet in case they needed to get out of a door. In the silence of the typical quiet fifteen minutes out of a set thirty routine she caught the scent of old mint. It was sickening. She had the stalest Ande’s mint on the way in. Anyone that got locked up solely to eat and survive better, was not playing with a full deck.

“You seem to have found yourself in some trouble recently.” The sound of cheap imitation leather hissed as the air inside the cushion gave way to the polyester suit that sank down into the chair.
“No ****. You are brilliant.” Jane looked over her shoulder as if no one should hear what she was going to say next. “You sure you are in the right room?” She winked at him.

“I am not here to hurt you, Jane. I am here to help you.” The file she assumed he never bothered to read was slid across the desk towards her. HOPE was lightning bolt quick as it struck down palm flat to stop the file from gliding to the edge of the desk. “Check for yourself. See what has been noted after your sessions. While you do, why don’t we talk about your cousin’s aunt’s boyfriend? He is who you work for right?”

The like-it-had-never-been-used folder opened and her dark orbs skimmed the notes. Each notation was nearly identical in wording. Patient is doing well. Over the top of the plain manilla cardstock thick file her eyes fixed back on him. As she closed it LESS sent it like a frisbee back at him. He was surprisingly quick at catching it and that gave her brow a reason to lift.

“Now I know you are ******* with me. How stupid do you really think I am? If I was doing well I wouldn’t be wearing handcuffs, dumbass.” Her eyes darted to the dark glass triple framed art behind him. She laughed. “Someone took five minutes in the copy room to whip that up for you? Your prop sucks and so does your viewing window behind you. My. Lawyer. That is all I have to say.”

Jane was up out of the chair and the seat across from her was quickly empty. A hand reached under the desk and the door opened with two officers prepared to escort her back.

“Last chance, Jane. You can change the way things go from here. You are young. It isn’t too late to take a better path.”

Dominique heard the words but was far more focused on the tight grip of a massive meat hook fixing on her upper arm. She glared upward then shook her head. He really thought it would be that easy?

“Go to hell.” She was done talking until her lawyer showed up.

“Interesting choice of words because that is exactly where you are heading.”

The sound of that statement was in the shadow’s head as she moved up the stairs and disappeared. What would happen next, would be a rush to any homicide investigator that was called in to handle the scene. Nothing in their careers would come close to what they would eventually walk into. It would be remembered and discussed for years to come.

Five hours later …

The chime from the front door of Twisted Sister was loud enough to wake the dead. The annoying jingle did just that delivering an assaulting ear piercing sound that went on longer than the groggy shadow appreciated. Long raven tresses splayed over the counter of the second floor tattoo shop were brushed back by a slow moving inked hand. It was so hard waking up just before sunrise. Too hard. Dominique knew that she needed to disappear and get some quality sleep. Thankfully the sound of someone arriving to the shop meant it would finally happen.

With the speed of a pack horse weighted down with an excess load she moved off the shop stool and took the massive bag with her. Inside was all her mementos from her earlier efforts. Each packaged so efficiently and with detail that no crime lab would ever track them let alone towards her. She had found the perfect gifts and she cherished them. They would be kept safe and secure until it was time to deliver them. A sound of her office door echoed signaling to the employee who arrived that the boss was out and they were up to bat.

[Mortll]

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

Mortll: Mortll glanced over at him How he got it rubbed down anymore wasn't her concern If he couldnt manage a good wank in the bathroom stall was totally his problem yet here she was going to be nice to him once again, "You still have keys to my trailer use the hot tub there it's just a block away from your job and i'm never there." She spotted a van on the side of the road nodding toward it "Is that yours?"

Doc: Doc nodded, "Yes that is it." He turned to look at her, "I do appreciate this, and thank you for the offer." He almost left it at that, but he needed to be sure he was clear, that there was no question, of them, she and he, going any further. He looked uncomfortable. Part of him said, 'you better make ******* sure she knows it's over..' the other part said, 'she knows.. she's moved on.' Only to have the first side rear up and say, '******* female.. make ******* sure!' Doc cleared his throat. "But I don't think that would be wise. really. At all." Mortll had just taken 2 hours of her time to help him out.. an hour out here and an hour back, he really did not want to piss her off. "But thank you.. again."

Mortll: "Your loss not like i've been near the place in months and you're welcome." She waited for him to close the door on the car with a little smile on her face .

Doc: Doc smiled it was a cold smile; he got her back handed insult. She wouldn't be caught there again because he had been in it. "In that case..maybe I should buy it from you." he doubted she would seriously take him up on it. But if she did. Well it never hurt to have another spot to crash. "If you’re interested in selling, let me know. Thank you again." He shut the door, and headed to the van.

Mortll: Mortll smiled and slid the car into gear hitting the gas the car shot past the man a bit up the road she yanked up on the parking brake putting the stingray into a tail slide and quickly letting it go to turn the wheel and correct the car now facing the opposite direction she shot past Doc and the van heading back toward town.

[Doc]

Dorothy debated even going into work today. She should have just stayed home. It was pouring outside. One of those cold driving rains coupled with wind, that cuts you right to the bone. Her umbrella did little to keep her dry. And she was late, by thirty seconds. She saw the taillight of her bus as it rounded the corner before going out of sight. It would be another twelve minutes before the next bus, for her connection arrived. She almost turned around and headed back home. But she needed this job. She was a three time loser. she had dropped out of school, in her youthful arrogance, thinking she didn't need an education. Then she married a man that liked to beat her and was a deadbeat. Before long she was pregnant with twins and deadbeat husband. When he was arrested, she thought finally she would have her chance at a life. But being a single mom with two kids wasn’t easy when the only jobs you could get were waitressing at diners that worked with your kids school schedule.

She made sure both her boys finished school. She rammed it into them that education was important whether they believed it now or not. They had made her proud.. until drugs took over their lives. One of her sons was killed in a gang fight, the other one died of an overdose weeks after his brother. Everything she had worked for gone like smoke. Then the came the diagnosis.. cancer. Not the quick kind. The slow strangling kind that let you linger in pain for years. Her oncologist introduced her to her surgeon. Dr. Lars Nilson. She sighed. Somehow she thought he was being kind by offering her a job. But after a few weeks in, she realized just what a ******** he was. And not just to her, but to his own wife as well.

Mrs. Nilson took the brunt of his verbal abuse on a daily basis. To deal with it Mrs. Nilson was intimately acquainted with Grey Goose, Glenfiddich and Hennessy. If Dr. Nilson was in a fairly amicably mood, it was a Grey Goose day. If he wasn’t, the Mrs. would escalate to Glenfiddich and onto Hennessy. The woman’s organs had to be pickled. She could away more liquor in one day, than three hard working men.

Dorothy looked at her watch as the bus she had finally boarded slowed to a crawl. She strained to see what the holdup was. It appeared that there was an accident snarling the traffic. Thank god for small miracles. Now she could blame being late on the traffic. And if she was really lucky, it would be Dr. Nilson at the center of the auto accident.

It was an hour and ten minutes later, that Dorothy finally made her way through the rear entrance of the Nilson mansion. The first thing she noticed once she had peeled off her wet out garments, and donned the pristine white apron that Dr. Nilson insisted she wear, was the smell. It was unlike anything she had come across before. It was a heavy, sweet smell. But not sweet, like sugar, it was odd. However, the musings over the smell were quickly forgotten as she saw a trail of small prints going across the mudroom from the kitchen. She squinted to get a better look, damn her eyes for being weak, and damn her glasses for not being strong enough. She shuddered, the size was small, but too big for a mouse, it had to be a rat. She grinned, she was going to be sure to show these to the Mrs. The Grand Lord and Lady.. had .. rats. There was justice in the universe afterall!

Dorothy’s dark hearted glee evaporated as she headed from the kitchen into the hallway. The sickly sweet smell was stronger now, and the tiny prints changed to great blots of dark red splatter. Her steps slowed instinctively as she closed in on the study. She wasn’t allowed in the study, unless the Doctor was there to supervise her. The study door was open, the smell almost overbearing now. Peering cautiously in through the doorway, she saw them. What was left of them. Her stomach lurched, she almost threw up right there.

=====

When Lt. Rick Brown got the call at that address, he automatically presumed it was yet another domestic, that would be quickly snuffed into silence by a healthy donation to the Orphans and Widows fund. He knew that address by heart. When he was on the patrol beat, he ended up there on average twice a month. But the presumption of yet another domestic, died quickly when he heard ‘code 140’. The Doctor had done it this time, there would be no amount of money that would hide the fact he killed his wife. Unless.. the wife killed him. Then it was more than likely in self defence.

Reaching the address, he was surprised at the number officers that were outside. It was pouring rain, and they were all outside. Rick knew something was up immediately, where a scene was limited like this, it typically meant something bad. He made his way to the entrance, the officer at the door, held a hand up, and pointed to the pile of forensic coveralls. “”Sorry Sir, no one is allowed in without smocking head to toe, and without the approval of the Coroner and the CSI.”

Rick growled, “Don’t even think you are keeping me out.. I am the detective of record. This is my crime scene.”

The Officer at the door shook his head, “No sir, the CSI was emphatic. No one is allowed until the full scene is documented.”

A rueful sigh, “How hard is it to document the scene eh?” Rick shook his head, and was about to push past the officer, then the Coroner came to the door.

“This is unlike anything we have dealt with before Brown. It will be several hours before we will be ready to let you into the scene.”

“Scene hell, Just let me in out of the rain.”

“No can do Brown. Doorway starts the scene.. and so far, it encompasses eight rooms; and we haven’t even, made it up stairs yet. Once we are done.. You will be the first one we let in.”

“What am I supposed to do in the meantime?!” Rick throwing his hands up. “What?”

“I am not sure.. But you are not coming in.”