GAME-WIDE EVENT: Treasure HuntDate: December 26th, 2015All day on the 26th of December there will be a special event in the district of River Rock, down by the river. This is a game event open to all characters, and will start at 9am Harper Rock time (EST) and will last until 9am the next day.
Several shipments of valuable smuggled goods belonging to the Triads are about to be intercepted by the Exiled Brotherhood (a gang of rogue vampires). When the Brotherhood are about to board the vessels mid-sail along the river, the Yongheng Triads (now lead by Chinese sorcerers) will get wind of their operation, and a massive gang war will break out. Two of the vessels will be capsized, spilling crates of rare weapons, gems, drugs and relics into the bay.
All day long there will be tons of loot washing up along the riverfront of River Rock, in the areas of Dragon Gate Inn, Fisherman's Wharf, and Rock Bay Docks. The amount of loot in these areas during this time will be at least 5 times as much as any other area on the map, and the weapons found here will be more powerful on average. If you're lucky you'll also find rare relics scattered around here and there.
24th December 2015
The following is a recorded conversation submitted to the CSIS on the 4th of January, 2016. The contents have been sealed as evidence as they were the last recorded words of one Miss Tanya Barkhouse, P.I. She was an employee at Ballard Espionage Agency, an undercover special investigative unit of the CSIS.
Lucas Ballard: This is Lucas Ballard deposing Tanya Barkhouse on the matter of the gang leader known as “The Unholy”. It is the 26th of November, 2015, 7am.
Tanya Barkhouse: Look, I’m not going back on the case. You can fire me or whatever you need to do but I’m not going back on the case. They know. <i>She</i> knows and I don’t want to end up like the others. You don’t know, you weren’t there. You didn’t see what she did. You didn’t see her face.
Lucas Ballard: Why don’t you tell me about it.
Tanya Barkhouse: Which part? The part where she cut out the informants eye or the part where she made him eat it? I’m not going back in and that’s final. I’ll quit if you try and make me go back in there again.
Lucas Ballard: Jesus Christ… Okay, Tanya, calm down, we’re not going to ask you to go back in. You are done, you did great. You got me enough to give the police that they can get a judge to issue a warrant, raid the place and “The Unholy” will do a lot of time. You’re safe. We’ll relocate you, give you a new identity. You will be protected. Everything will be alright.
Tanya Barkhouse: Nothing will be alright! Didn’t you hear anything I said? She knows! She knows I was a plant! She knows you are onto her! By the time you get there it’ll be too late! She’ll be gone and she’ll be after me!
Lucas Ballard: You’re safe here. She’s not going to break into the police precinct to get to you. We’ll have an escort take you back to your place to get what you need and then we’ll have you on the next flight out of here. You’re safe now. I promise. I need you to think. Did you ever hear her given name?
Tanya Barkhouse: No! I told you, I asked around, I dug. They all said the same thing.! They said: “She has no name, only an appellation. We call her The Unholy.” That’s it. The Unholy. You know what, screw my stuff, just give me enough to get on my feet somewhere else and get me my plane ticket! Shut off the ******* recorder and get me the **** out of Harp---
The recording device shuts off at this point.
25th December, 2015
________________________
Harper Rock|Local
Gang-related Murder Claims Local Private Investigator
December 25th, 2015
A massive manhunt raged into the night Thursday for one female killer on the loose who authorities say gunned down a private investigator at the Harper Rock International Airport
The suspect fled the airport amidst a firefight with law enforcement in a blue sedan driven by persons unknown. She is presumed armed and extremely dangerous.
Authorities say search crews will continue around the clock to find the suspect who is believed to be responsible for the killing of former Harper Rock Police Lieutenant Tanya Barkhouse, a 20-year-veteran of the police force who left the force to work for Ballard & Associates Detective Agency.
"Search teams will work 24/7 to apprehend the suspect." said Daniel Murray, CSIS Investigator, late Thursday.
In addition to the Harper County Sheriff’s Office and Harper Rock Police Department, search teams include numerous local law enforcement officers from Huntsville, the RCMP, and federal agencies, according to officials. Multiple local and federal CSIS Teams, 48 canine units, and six air support units were also dispatched for more than 14 hours Thursday.
Harper Rock Police Commissioner Harold James O'Sullivan could not be reached for comment.
Source: AP
________________________
Jane watched the television screen with a small smile. It gave her an idea. Such a vicious woman such as this… Unholy could serve her purpose. nicely. It was just a matter of getting John to sign his own death warrant. She was sure she could manage to do so. The irony of the name, or nickname of the woman, what the media was calling her, was something that tickled Jane. “Oh I’ll make you unholy my dear.” she said to the screen in front of her. “I’ll make you unholy and you’ll give me my freedom.”
26th December 2016
~Narrator~
The night was silent, becalmed as if the alley we look down upon was in the eye of a hurricane betwixt the raging winds we seem to have missed prior to our arrival and those tempestuous currents approaching us even now. The calm before the storm as it were. We look down upon the scene and the first thing we notice is a man sprawled face down on the paved floor of the building flanked corridor littered with trash which sits motionless, stirred by not even the slightest hint of movement in the air. The man though, he begins to stir.
A groan escapes bloodied and swollen lips. The man makes no motion though to rise even as consciousness returns; he waits in the hopes that his confusion and dizziness will dissipate. We see a slight motion now, a blink. He blinks quickly several times as though it will chase away the fogginess of a brain addled by repeated blows not too long before our arrival. See how his fingers twitch, how his feet move barely, tentatively as he takes mental stock of the injuries suffered.
Slowly he rises, pushing himself up from his prone position, his world no doubt a blurry mess, spinning before his eyes. Staggering he wanders toward the mouth of the alleyway. A shadow passes the mouth of the alley, cutting him off from his egress.
Though this is a familiar story in this city, every telling has differences. Each of these little travesties, these sanguinary rapes have their own subtle differences, nuances unique to each tale. Let us go back in time now. Let us see what brought this strange man before us to the strange situation we have walked in on. We should know about the arrival of the hurricane before we experience the tail end.
It starts with a broken household, a family shattered, mutated into something… sick… Our alley-bound man is not yet involved in this tale. Let us journey into the mind of his assailants.
~John~
"Mother. I stay here at your side throughout most days lately. I want you to tell me what to do. You never did that while you were alive but if there is one thing I learned since your passing it’s that there is power in death. Death and blood. It might not make sense to a lot of people but that is only because they don’t know what I know. I’m not the smartest man out there but I’m learning. I’m learning that all we thought was wrong and what we believed was wrong and what we dismissed as impossible is the truth.
Jane is what I call your daughter, my sister these days. Well, in my thoughts I call her this. She fled in a rage after your ex’s true master came and supplanted you and him after you were both gone. I dare not use our real names even in thoughts as I fear thoughts are not safe. I did… something to her. I bent her to my will. Ironic since all my life she has been the guiding light I looked to and now she is a faint spark in the darkness and bows down to anything I tell her to. She seems confused much of the time and I worry that whatever I have done to her has destroyed her. I want to go back to the days she was in charge. The days when she told me what I needed to do and needed to know and I could just act without thinking. It seems that when I have to think for myself I **** things up and I’m scared. I don’t know anything about this world we have been set loose in and I just want things to be easy.
I drink her in. She is my world as much as she ever was. More. I shouldn’t be in charge of her… she is the smarter of us, the stronger, the better. I am too driven by the needs of man. She can’t refuse me when I give a command… I guess since she is one of ~them~ it is different. She’s not really her anymore right? She’s cold to the touch. She can do things no one should be able to do and by taking a little of her into myself I can too. I don’t even think of her as my sister anymore. I think of her as Jane.
After the people came and killed her maker and she beat me down and left me to die I healed. I healed and I learned. I sought out others. They taught me. The marked me. I have these… symbols on me. Tattooes. I keep them covered. I think they would make others like her want to hurt me. I hide a lot when the sun goes down. She found me when I was hiding and I think she was going to kill me. I think she came back and was going to end my life because of what I did. I led the hunters here who killed ******** Number 2. I didn’t want to die… I wanted her with me. She was walking toward me, her expression was blank, cold. Then she stopped. Something between us… tweaked. I was in control since then.
I have to remind myself that she is not my sister anymore. She is different. A dead thing. A dead thing with blood I need. A dead thing who is not my sister. She is simply Jane. Jane is one of them. I feel sick when she is near me but I need her. I need her blood and I need her comfort and I need her to touch me and tell me that I’m going to be okay. That we are going to be okay.
I send Jane out to do what she needs to do cause of what she is each night. Then she comes home and… I’m lonely. I need to feel like I matter to someone. I need intimacy, love. Tenderness and compassion. She is the only one who ever gave it to me throughout my entire life. You should have been there. You should have given a **** *****, I’m your son! I’m your ******* son!!! It doesn’t matter what the **** my father did or where he went or if he’s alive or dead cause I’m your ******* son and you were meant to love me!
I don’t know why I ask you for advice, or anything… I shouldn’t ask you for ****. I never mattered to you while you were alive. I guess I am hoping that in death you have found the wisdom I know can be distilled into a soul. I guess I had nowhere else to turn.
I think I’m fucked up… but I don’t know how not to be. I have to go for now. I have things I need to do"
~Narrator~
Rising from the grave the man we call John Doe looks around. The day is bright and sunny, a light covering of snow on the ground glittering in the daylight. The air is bitter, a wet cold that permeates, invading the air and making it feel heavy. More snow is sure to be on the way and by the feel of it it is going to be the heavy packing kind. The kind one would use for snowballs.
Our guy, John Doe has no use for snowball fights. He never really had a use for them when he was a kid. His sister didn't want cold balls of near-ice thudding off of her and since she was the only playmate John had as a child the only time snowballs factored in his life where when bullies decided to pelt him with them. Suffice it to say John is not a snowball fan..
There are few people in the graveyard this time of day. Setting flowers is useless and it's really too cold for mourners to spent time at the resting place of loved ones while their toes freeze and their lips turn blue. In this type of weather it's best to be inside curled up by a nice roaring fire with a good book or good company. John will be doing neither. He will be looking for a place to unload a haul of emeralds, amethysts and sapphires along with top quality weapon parts recovered from the cargo vessel that caught on fire and sunk in the harbor recently.
Before he left the apartment he checked on them. Inspected everything. There were several weird items among them, knickknacks he had picked up on his travels, some his sister had procured.
He preferred to go to an old man who had his shop in the Redwood District of the city. He had dealt with him several times for some of his more arcane oriented purchased and trusted him more than he trusted most. The old man was an American. He'd fought in Vietnam and when he return had been met with scorn like so many others. Sick of the hypocrisy of the nation he had risked everything for he had emigrated to Canada and had set up shop in Harper Rock selling hand-crafted items supposedly imbued with mystical energies. It didn't matter if it was Shamanistic, Voodoo, Druidic, everything he could get his hands on he bought, examined, tested and resold.
The old man's thick Southern accent greeted John's ears as he entered the shop after a trek across town. "Well then John, what ya got fer me t'day?"
John pulls a pile of photographs from his pocket and a few baubles, setting them down in front of the white-haired, white-bearded robust figure in his trademarked cowboy get-up. "Weapons, gems, some other stuff that I don't know if you need or want but was hoping you might know who would."
"Well then, my my my... yes. Some of this will sell nicely. Bring it on by and I'll give ya a fair price for the whole schabang."
"200."
"Yep, sounds good John, 200. That'll suit me jest fine."
Arriving back at the new apartment, this one conveniently located underground John sits down, looking at his sister! thrall… in the bed nearby.She is dead. Not just sleeping, but dead. Every day she seems to die. It kills John a little more each day to see her like this. He misses how she was when she was human before ******** Number 2 sunk his fangs in her. After a while as he does every day since her death her walks over and picks her up. Cradling her like her was some legendary prince carrying his princess off after saving her from an epic villain or a monster who has plagued the land for years. He is no prince, she is no princess and he failed to save her. Instead of marching her off to live happily ever after he marches to the bathroom, lays her in the tub and turns on the water. He doesn’t worry about the temperature. She wouldn’t know if the water was hot of cold. In truth he could lather her up and hose her down with the hose on the wall if it came down to it. He never would though. His touch is not that of a lover, but not that of a brother either. It holds within it a reverence for something sacred. The idolizing hero worship he had for her when they were growing up mixed with a deeper, darker desire, barely restrained.
Though he had violated the taboo of incest with her after ******** Number 2 paid his lethal visit he had never engaged in the facsimile of necrophilia. Never while she was torpid. This is not because the thought repulses him as it does most of the population, it is out of some sick desire for her to love him back. She isn’t capable of doing that while she is dead! sleeping.
After bathing her he dries her off, and carefully goes through the nightly rituals he was taught by ******** Number 2 to make her as pleasing for him as possible. John doesn’t know himself why he still does this but Jane seems to appreciate the gesture. He waxes her completely smooth, applies the lotion she prefers along with the body spray and perfume that have become in her mind her essence and then dresses her in the clothing she picked out the night before. That done he gently lays her back down on the bed and goes to the fridge. He gets himself a microwaveable meal, nothing fancy, his needs are simpler than they have ever been, he grabs the quintessential TV dinner, Salisbury steak, mashed potato, chocolate pudding (which is by the way nothing like pudding even remotely) and heats it up. He eats slowly as he sits in the chair watching her and waiting for her to arise. Every night she does is a miracle. John finds an almost religious experience each night her eyes flutter open, when her chest inhales that first gulp on unneeded air and she sits up and looks at him.
Jane is the only person to have given him a second thought while they were kids. She was the only person there for him while they grew up in a loveless home with their emotionally vacant gold-digging mother and now that she was a vampire and he a blood thief they needed each other more than ever. She fed him her sweet nectar, he guarded her during the daylight hours when she was more in danger. The bond they had shared grew stronger, changed with the situation, at least in John’s mind. He was beholden to her on nearly every level. He was in love with her. He never stopped to think, more to the point he refused to think, that it was not a shared feeling. She reciprocated his advances, his words of affection, his touches. She filled his desires, told him hers and she used him for her pleasure in any way she could think of. In John’s mind it was love. In hers it was simple slavery. She was his thrall. She could do nothing different if she wanted to.
While John was around her she was his living puppet, even though the way it would look to outsiders was the exact opposite. Only when he allowed her out to do what she needed to as a vampire was she herself. That was when she did as she wanted. Without the bond of enthrallment hovering over her, released from servitude until daybreak, she could do as she wished. John also refused to think about why it might be that what she wanted never involved him.
~Jane~
Night has fallen, I’m out on the town. I hit up a dance club. When I go down the hall into the club, the music is already deafening, something with the obligatory penetrating bass. Perfect, I’m sure, for people who came here hoping for some penetration. There’s a repetitive lyric over the top. “Do it! Do it! Do it!” Delightfully subtle. One of the other vampires, I can’t remember her name waves over. I met her through my sire. “Hi Jane!”
I wave back and flash her a smile, reminding myself I need to write things down like I’ve told John too, he did something weird to me and now he can… I push the thoughts of my sicko brother out of my head. I have to deal with him every night, tonight though, Tonight is about me.
I hit the floor, arms over my head, hips swaying, midriff flashing, eyes scanning for tonight’s victim. A predator soon to become prey. It doesn’t take long to get a John Travolta wannabe on the hook. The raw sensuality my pale vampire skin seems to ooze in the darkness of the club, the way I seem to draw certain types of people, it’s remarkable. This is the best part about being what I am.
We make our way out from the club together. Rick and I. We are the cutest couple. I nuzzle against him to get warm as we walk, his arm around my shoulders, mine around his waist. It’s sickeningly sweet. I would feel safe and protected if I couldn’t kill him with no effort at all.
Soon enough we are at his apartment and it’s like I’ve been with a close friend all evening, someone you haven’t seen for a year, and it’s even better than old times, because you’ve saved up a year’s worth of stories and jokes and commentary, the two of you sit on the couch and make popcorn and tea and you giggle, you get silly and chuckle and chortle and when you’re all done laughing the two of you sit, tired but so content, enjoying a mellow silence, and that’s what Rick’s blood is to me. It’s sweet, mellow silence when I finally get down to business.
I don’t give him any. I don’t have to. We kiss and touch, I let his hands roam for a while and then my fangs slip into his throat.
Rick’s blood, his life, it moves through me. I was wrong. This is the best part about being what I am. I drink Rick and he’s raw and strong and humble, he’s everything, a cozy flow, I could lose myself in this and follow it to its source, to his end…
But I don’t. I won’t lose myself. My teeth draw back up into my gums, they’re small and normal once more and I give him little healing nuzzles, the twin holes seal up like magic (is it magic?) and when I step back he looks dazed, drugged, all slack lips and constricted pupils.
I get his number off his cell phone. I’ll keep it and give him a call to go out in a couple weeks. This is what I do when I go out. I get guys to donate to my one woman blood drive. They wake up and figure they scored. Some of them do. The ones I like enough. Never on the first or second date though. They are always happy to hear from me when I call them back though. Always. I call it digging a well. A well of blood. Since my sire was destroyed by hunters I haven’t killed anyone. I hated doing that. Now that he is gone I can choose how I do things. At least to a point.
~Rick~
My neck hurts a little. It’s not too bad though, must have slept on it wrong. The girl from last night, Jane, is gone. I barely remember anything after we got back here. I was pretty lit. I remember making out on the couch and then this, waking up in the bed. I’m naked. Damn… must have been a hell of a night. I get up out of bed and head for the shower. The floor of the bathtub is wet. So she must have showered before she left. Cool, at least that answers that. Damn I wish I could remember though, she was fine as ****!
Note to self: Drink less at the club. I hope she got my number. Now I really wanna hear from her again.!
~John~
I watch the door open through half lidded eyes. I was almost asleep by the time Jane steps through the door. Stretching I let out a yawn and sit up, scratching my head. Maybe I did doze off, I didn’t think it was this late, early really. I get up to me feet as she hangs up her coat. She went to the club last night. I know because of her clothes and the way she has done her make-up. I always help with her make-up and she asks me to do it different ways depending where she is going. I’m not really sure I like her going to those places. Too many guys that would try and take advantage of her. Then again, she is a vampire now. She can more than take care of a Romeo wannabe who tries to get too personal.
I motion her over to the couch and she sits down. I help her out of her boots, those knee-high ones I like a lot. I wince as I remind myself she was once my sister but then I remember the key word is was. She’s a vampire now. ******** number 2 said they were part shadow or something and who they were meant nothing now that they were vampires. She was Jane Doe now. Not my sister. Jane Doe, a vampire. She was blood and sex and all that stuff from the movies. I watched ******** number 2 turn her into this. He drank all of her blood and fed her his and she died. She was dead until the next evening and that’s when she woke up like this. My sister was gone and Jane was born.
A little bit of my sister is still there. She nurtures me, only in different ways. She isn’t sisterly though when we mess around. If she was still my sister she wouldn’t do things like that with me would she? She never did before. She was always ashamed when the ********, mom’s ex did things to her with me just being around. I know she would never touch me or let me kiss her or… not if she wasn’t completely different. She still loves me tough. It’s just different now. Better. Still, I like it better when I put her in charge.
******** number 2 said once he could see through the ********’s eyes. I guess that would only work if I was a vampire though. I can’t see through Jane’s eyes at all. I tried when I let her go out the first time. Actually I try a lot. I want to know what she is up to but I don’t want to pry. I don’t want her to know I am jealous or anything. After all, it’s not like every need she has isn’t taken care of at home. I make sure of that. A happy woman makes for a happy life, be it mother, sister, friend, lover, wife or reanimated shadow-corpse thing. Women always had a way of making life painful if they wanted to..Guess they say the same thing about us only they are smarter and sneakier about it than we are. We get mad and yell or hit em. They get mad and go quiet, then they answer with one word answers. That’s when you know you are in trouble. Next thing you know you are broken hearted or in the case of the ********, you have a bullet hole in your forehead and you are hovering over your plate leaking into it. It’s always a bad idea to piss off a woman you live with.
I massage her feet in silence and eventually she turns on the television. The News. I hate the News. It’s always bad. Murders and kids missing and terrorism and all that crap people do to each other. It’s worse when you are the one they are talking about. She’s right though to watch it. At least I know the cops aren’t looking for me. Jane’s always smart like that. She always knows what to do. It was her idea to lay low and let the issues with the cops blow over. It was her idea to get this apartment underground in the basement of one of the Wickbridge buildings. It was her idea to raid the docks, maritime salvage she called it. Smart girl, that was a lucrative day.
I spend the rest of the wee hours massaging her feet as she watches the News, I only half pay attention until something catches my attention about a gang fight. The docks. That explains the drugs, the weapons. It occurs to me that Jane must have known this ahead of time. She is full of secrets. I guess most vampires are.
In the morning, after I’ve laid Jane down to sleep for the day I head out with my haul. I ride down to the old man’s shop and sell my wares. The old Southerner is as hospitable as always but like always I turn down his offer of sweet tea. Since finding out the supernatural is real I take any offer for anything from any sorceror more seriously. He pays cash as always. Full amount. I’m feeling pretty rich right about now to be honest.
~Jane~
Geek night! This is something I used to love back in my breathing days! I’ve always been kind of a geek. I like sci-fi, fantasy and before I found out monsters are real I liked the cheesy horror stuff. I’m not so big into that genre anymore now though for obvious reasons. I’m dressed in a pair of jeans that may as well be painted on and the cutest little skull tee shirt you can imagine. I wear a pair of glasses, not for my vision, but to complete the look I’m going for and I’m planning on hitting the local geek shop. You know the place, RPG books, CCGs, board games, models and comic books right?
My reasons are twofold of course. One is that it reminds me of better times, back when I could hang out with friends that weren’t really in my high school social circles, and the second, my well. It’s good to vary it so my contacts don’t overlap. Chances are it’ll be a different group of people here than at Nightmode or Silks or the High Noon Saloon. I go to all of them infrequently. I don’t want to be a familiar face. I only want to get in, get dinner, get out. Maybe have a little fun while I’m at it.
John has done awesome on my wardrobe and hair. I paid him by giving him my wrist, I let him drink. As screwed up as he has become lately he always takes my hand so gently and so reverently that for a moment he’s my little brother again, holding my hand while I cry about something our stepfather did or just about some catty ***** at school. It washes away the years of pain, especially the past couple months since mom died. Since I was bitten, since John was made into… whatever he is. Blood Thief is what my sire called it. That and something that started with L. He never told me much about them, just that John needed my blood to survive and as long as I did what he asked, I was allowed to give it to him.
Tonight though, all of that is set off the the side. Tonight is about going geek, old-school style!
]~John~
I followed her… I followed her to the mall to that little hole in the wall hobby shop or whatever it is. I watched her go in, watched her flaunt herself and gain the attention of all the nerds in there. Watched her basically go shopping for a human being and get one, paying nothing but a smile and a caress on his shoulder.Just like that she was accepted into their circle. Just like that she was the center of attention.
I kept reminding myself this is about the blood. I fed from her tonight. She is weakened when I do that. She needs the blood as much as I do. Maybe more. Still, I hate how she hangs on his words, how she smiles at him, how she looks so interested. I’ve known her all my life and I can tell it’s an act but this guy is eating it up. ******* loser. I hope she kills him when she’s done with him. When his hand reaches down and squeezes her knee under the table I just about lose my ****. I have to turn and walk away. Not too far though.
~Jane~
The store is closing. I’ve got my new buddy for the night. He’s sweet. Shy, nerdy and over-eager. He’d make a good boyfriend once he’s learned to calm down, take it easy. He’s so nervous having a woman’s attention it’s almost comical. I love the attention, I can’t lie. It’s human, pure, it’s not tainted by the blood, not on his side of the coin at least. I can almost taste the fire, the need, desire, eagerness, nervous energy and adrenaline in his veins. I guess there’s probably a science to the taste of their blood. Something about endorphins and diet probably. I can tell the difference when they are calm, excited, happy, scared, horny, sad… I admit that I like it the most when they are turned on. A little making out goes a long way. That’s where I’m at with this guy, Darren. He’s a sweetheart and I’m pretty sure just a soft kiss on the lips would make his night.
I’m not going to go home with him. I’m thinking maybe just go to his car,maybe a little necking and then… the sweet kiss, the one that gives me what I need for the evening.
“I don’t have a car, I live just down the road”.
Well that changes the plan, guess it’s an alley feed. I like them too, thrilling, dangerous. It’s like sex in a public place. The thrill of maybe getting caught. Huge turn on. Tonight is getting better by the minute!
Everything goes smoothly. He is gentle but unyielding, presses me against the wall of the building, his hands are tentative, almost hesitant. He’s working up the courage to touch me and his hands are shaking.. When I do bite in, I can taste the nervousness, the lust, the kindness in him, I can taste the adrenaline, the high he is riding . He slumps against me and I’m about to lower him to the ground when…
~John~
I grab her shoulder, rip her away from the guy. Dude crumples like he’s boneless, his face rebounds off the alley floor and I’m not sure but I think I hear his nose break. Good. ****** should have kept his hands off Jane. She is wide-eyed and scared, **** what does she think? I’m going to hit her? I’m not like the ******** or his master. I’m nothing like them. I drag her out of the alley. “Get home now. I’ll clean this up.” She hesitates… “NOW!”
She flees into the night at the roar of my voice. I look around. Streets are empty. No lights coming on. Good. No heroes trying to investigate the yelling. Less people have to die tonight. I turn and walk back toward the alley and hey, yo, whaddaya know? Dude is getting up. Lip is split, eye looks like it’s swelling nicely. Good. I’m tempted to just leave it alone. He could identify Jane though. Maybe even me. I walk toward him. “Hey, buddy, you ok? You fell, hit your head looks like.”
“Uh, ****, what happened? Where’s the girl?”
“Girl?”
“I don’t know her name, the girl I was with, she okay?”
Good, at least he doesn’t know her name. Maybe this is his lucky night. “Yeah, I think you got played buddy. Saw a woman leaving out of here with a guy. They were laughing. Guessing you just got roped into some type of head game and got sucker punched for amusement. You live nearby? I’ll walk you home dude. You can tell me what you remember.””
We walk.
Half hour later I’m leaving Darren’s house. He’s not going to talk to the cops. He thinks he’s made a new friend. He’s met Frank DuBois. Frank DuBois is a cop and took down his info. Frank DuBois told him that if there is any leads he’ll contact him but don’t hold out hope. Best to forget the incident and consider himself lucky to have lived. Darren believes Frank DuBois.
Frank DuBois is really one very pissed off John Doe who is headed home to have a little chit chat with one Miss Jane Doe about propriety. I’ll be damned if she turns into some suckhead slut ******* around in allleys. She’s better than that. I need her head in the game. If she’s going to think for both of us then she needs to refocus her energies.
In a couple months maybe Darren will have an accident. I don’t want to kill him now. Jane would get mad at me for being a jealous asshole. Like I said earlier… a pissed off woman can make your life miserable.
~Narrator~
Every night this happens all over the city of Harper Rock. Some wake up in odd places with a sore neck and feeling light-headed, some never wake up at all. Some though, they wake up and they are fundamentally changed by the experience. They become something different like John or Jane. Dead perhaps, or enslaved to their passions or those of others. Or slaves to the blood.
There are a million of these stories, all of them the same except for the subtle nuances. The subtle nuances and how the tale is told…
Welcome to Harper Rock.
Sleep tight.
