Slumlord Millionare - A Day in the life of a thrall.

[CharlotteC]

It was just a night like every other night, especially in this freak of a city. Rhett, or as he was normally called - at least by his ‘master’ - ‘Tempy’, was making his way through the city, it wasn’t really that big of a city so it never took him too long to get from one place or another. Especially when he had a tendency to ‘wake’ from one of his dazes and find himself normally where he needed to be, or at least, in the general vicinity. Tonight, thankfully, had not been one of those daze induced walks. Tonight he was on the transit on his way to his normal ‘haunt’. On his way to the Newborough area where he could meet up with his usual, ‘buddies’ and talk about things like weapons and ammo, about meth and baggies of green stuff.

Tempy saw that his stop was up and stood, getting ready to exit as quick as possible. The quicker he was off of the bus, the quicker he could slip into the alleyway that lead to the secret area of the city. Ok, well maybe not so secret, after all, from what Charlie had told him, he had tons of vampires around him in that area. It would make sense as well, since he had seem many of his ‘friends’ ending up lying dead in one of the few ‘houses’ of the slums. The doors opened and soon he was making his way past the bank and some other big building before he saw the entrance.

One thing he always was doing here? Scavenging. Charlie liked to make guns and for some odd reason - one he never questioned because questions lead to things he really didn’t want to know the answers to - guns and their parts were usually scattered all throughout the area. Be it on the streets, between the buildings, usually things were inside the buildings. He had started before picking up anything and everything he passed, but he had come to find out, the gun parts, they usually sold the best. The guns too. He made a lot of his ‘wealth’ that way. Picking up all the guns and the parts, if they were below a certain quality he knew that he was free to sell them and keep the money for himself. However, above that and he saved it so that he could give it to Charlie.

Charlie, she may have been his ‘master’ in fact, but he rarely felt as though he was a ‘thrall’ to her. She treated him like a roommate, a confidant, a friend, a brother. Though, when she did get bossy, there was really nothing he could do about it, and really, if he was in the mood to tell the truth to anyone - especially himself - that he didn’t mind it. He would do anything for that girl. Charlie was, in his eyes, a love he would never be able to explain. His sister. Even if they weren’t blood related.

Shaking himself of his thoughts, he looked down and boom, there at his feet was a sweet looking rifle. Seriously? Why did people leave this **** on the floor for again Joe Schmoe to pick up? He would never really know. He picked it up himself and used the strap to sling it over his shoulder. He had his large duffle bag open for some of the smaller guns and parts he was sure he would come about along the way. For now, it was time to hoof it to the crack den.

[CharlotteC]

Within the crack den, it was one of those places that stuck with you, the smell - even as a human - was horrid. One had to think about how it would smell to those with their supernatural senses, with the ability to smell the rot and decay, the urine, the viscera, the ****, the blood. Tempy gave a shudder every time he entered this place. No one here seemed to take care of themselves in any way, and then all of the gangsters and their body odor and the reek of alcohol and cheap cologne. Still, there was just too much goods that those gangsters and enforcers left around, just laying on the floor or wherever for someone to pick up. The temptation for Templeton was just too much to say no to. He just had to remember to get some nose plugs next time.

He walked through the living room and didn’t see much this night, other than some gangsters beating up on the women they pimped out, he would normally stop them, but he wasn’t exactly the strongest fighter. More often than not, when he tried to intervene he was the one that got the most of the injuries. One time, he had woken up and found himself robbed of everything he had had money wise. Though thankfully, they hadn’t taken his loot. Why, he didn’t know, but that is how it had gone down. It had been a hell of a drive and walk to the hospital to get himself patched up. So instead of breaking up the fight going on right now, he just gave his head a shake and made his way down the longest hall. There he had managed to find three guns just leaning against the wall. Two big snipers that looked like they might be good enough for Charlie and an assault rifle that he knew wouldn’t be good enough for her, but at least it would fetch him a decent price.

Tempy then turned and walked into the master bedroom, in there, there were more gangsters, though thankfully, they ignored his presence. They seemed deep in some sort of conversation, of what he paid no attention too. He was glad though, because right as he entered, he had found a Master Rifle, now this, this lovely thing would make Charlie squee like a teen at a Justin Beiber concert. He slipped it over his shoulder with the other gun that was there and then made a quick bee-line for the door. Then he gave a quick once over of the other bedroom but found nothing but hookers and drugs. The crack house rarely was the biggest score. Normally, the biggest score was the club house. That was where he had decided to head to next.

Just as he had thought, when he got to the clubhouse, there was more hustle and bustle that made him nearly invisible, it allowed him to go in and pick up quite a number of guns, and not just guns but parts as well. it seemed as soon as he picked one up, another would just appear out of nowhere right next to him. They had to be piping their **** into the air ducts is all he thought, and he was getting some sort of high. Still, every time a gun or a part came into view it soon found its way into his bag. He found some of the conversations he heard to be interesting as well, the way some dude with a name that inspired images of Lorenzo Llamas was the city’s most wanted. And the information - or lack thereof - of what was going down in the Quarantine Zone. He went there from time to time as well… They had no idea.

Sometimes, when he went there, he felt as if he had fallen into an episode of the Walking Dead. The zombies though, they were easy enough to handle. A simple shot to the head and night night, but still, it was disturbing. So thankfully, Charlie rarely asked him to go there anymore. There wasn’t really much in the way of stuff that she needed from that area.

Shaking himself from his thoughts, he started to head out towards the exit once more, there was one more big stop he would hit before he would take stock of what he has and how much money he would soon be banking and what would be going to Charlie. As he exited the building, he noticed a cop watching the place. Clearly there had been more going down there than he had paid attention to. The cop thankfully paid him no mind, and that worked out for the best, because the last thing he needed was that son of a ***** taking him to prison and then he’d have to call Charlie for help. And that wouldn’t be good for either of them. After all, she was the real criminal.

Now, it was time for his last stop, time to book it there.

[CharlotteC]

The Projects was another one of those hidden sort of places. Much like the slums itself had its hidden area where all the gangsters and their enforcers and gang leaders met, the Projects was the same thing, another hidden area to slide into, a street within a street within a streets. Or this area was always a bit of a pain to search because not only did he usually have to slip past cops staking out the ‘entrance’, but then there was the length and the darkness of the place in general. Sometimes he would have to make two or three passes just to make sure that he had cleared the place out of all the weapons and parts he had come across.

Inside, or rather, past the entrance, Tempy glanced around. He could hear the whispered deals going down, the occasional shot ringing out, making him duck momentarily behind a corner, and cover his head. He hadn’t - thank god - been hit ever with a stray bullet, but as someone who was more of a passivist than the rock-em-sock-em sort of man, he preferred it that way. He was a scavenger by nature, wanting to find others garbage and make it beautiful. That was his thing, he often did it well. As he glanced around his hiding spot, he noticed something that was rare in this area, there seemed to be some sort of weapons cache because he was able to pick up three different kinds of rifles, two handguns, a shotgun, and some piece of **** assault gun. It wasn’t the best quality, but it would do for him. Or rather, for him to sell.

His gun had recently been upgraded something fierce. Charlie, it seemed, had had a lot of time on her hands while she was running scripts and hacking super-secure **** that he never would understand or get. Girl needed a hobby. One that got her out of the house for once. He shook his head while thinking of the girl that was, for all intents and purposes, his master. Thankfully, she rarely ‘pulled rank’ on him. Instead, she let him do his own thing 98% of the time. This, stalking this area, it was his thing, he may toss some stuff her way, but most of the stuff went to him. Into his bank account. Yes, he got rich quite fast just selling this junk to the black market shop keepers.

He picked up the guns, slipping them into the large duffle he was carrying, and then spotted a pretty good piece of gun stock. It seemed stocks were the soup du jour tonight because he must have picked up about 20 of them this night alone. In fact, it seemed the hardest part to find, especially those of good quality. Stocks, Actions… those things were easy to find, but barrels, those were the hot commodity, and those were the things that were hardest to find in this place. And from what Charlie had told him, they were also the hardest part of the gun to improve. Though, it seemed that she was getting better and better at making guns. The gun he currently held was now one of her best. It greatly helped him out, having something that could actually hit the broadside of a barn for once. Usually, he hardly could beat the gangster’s back. Now, more often than not, when they saw the gun he actually used, the gangster’s beelined it in the other direction.

He began to make his way through the rest of the projects, moving down the long corridors, picking up yet another gun. It still amazed him the way people just left this **** laying around. Though, some of the time he found that he would have to search the bodies of gangsters that lay all around the place. He’d find a glock here, an action there… but most of it was worthless, even by his standards, and his standards were pretty low. He had come to the third of the alcoves that the Projects held and was shocked when he came upon a part that was almost like the Holy Grail. He held it in his hands for a moment and looked at the thing before slipping it into his bag and turning around. That is when he had noticed a shadowed figure had been following his movements.

Tempy went to move past it, but when he did, it stopped him and suddenly, things went hazy. This was a feeling he had come to know. Charlie often did this to him when she fed, and the fact that he remembered it told him one thing, the girl’s bite was easy to remember. In this case though, as things went dark for a moment, he knew he wouldn’t remember this one. He just knew he would end up somewhere in the city, somewhere he randomly chose in his mind. It was sort of a pain when other vampires took their liberties with his blood, not so much the loss of blood, but the fact that he always woke up clear across the city. He hated wasting gas on getting back to this place. Especially when his bag was only half full. That was his last thought before true darkness took him.

[CharlotteC]

He woke with a start, finding himself lying in the middle of the road, it was the sound of a car honking that woke him, but what caught his attention was the man in a red and black, head to toe costume and holding a katana out like he was waiting to skewer him. What the hell? Tempy thought to himself as he stared up and the comic book anti-hero.

“Yes, you're dreaming dude! Though, I don't know why you would want to wake up in the middle of the road. Are you High?”

“Seriously, what the **** is going on?!”

The guy put the sword away with a flash and flair. “I told you, asshole, you are dreaming… And also laying in the road, might want to get up before you get your *** ran over.”

Slowly making his way to his feet, now that he didn't have to worry about getting stabbed, he continued to look at this guy. He was dressed at him, talked a bit like him… But man was this confusing as hell. He had never blacked out like this after someone fed on him. Nor did he hallucinate comics talking to him. The comic said he was dreaming, he had to be because this **** was…

“Crazy **** even for a city full of vampires?!” The guy asked as if he knew… “I do know!” He called out with a chipperness that made Rhett feel as if he really was high as a kite. “Get this! This city? Totally fake! It's all some game. Not only am I fictional, but so are you dude! And that chick you're thinking of, also fake!” Rhett shook his head, trying to clear the webs of whatever drug he had been injected with. “Dude!” The man smacked him, hard, it nearly sent his head literally spinning. “I told you! You're fiction, I'm fiction, we’re all fiction! Well, except for the chick who is typing this all up. She's really. Crazy, and desperate, but real.”

“If I'm fake then why in the **** did that hurt?!”

“Wow! And the chick writing this said I cursed like a sailor? Seems your creation here curses more than I do? Or are you trying to make me behave? No, actually, I think you're new to this. That’s fine, I have time to teach you. And him.”

“What…?”

“Don't mind me, just having a chat with your creator.”

Rhett shook his head again, trying to wake himself up from this strange *** dream. The slap should have woke him up, right? But it hadn't. Oh ****! He had to be drugged! This had to be some kind of trip. “You aren't real.”

“No ****, man, I just told you that.” Said the masked comic. “I'm here just because the chick that writes you got drunk with one of her friends and got the evil idea to toss me into a post because she thought that I would make for some great entertainment and also so that she could write a **** load of words. She is really hard up to win this contest. Like sadly so!”

Rhett blinked, this information was just… Yeah… Mind blown! He clearly didn't believe word one of it. If this was all a dream then clearly he had spent way too much time with Charlie's comics, and had spent too much time watching movies or tv because this was all like movie fiction disbelief going on here. He was drugged, maybe one of the gangsters got to him, injected him with some meth… This was all some drug induced freak out of his imagination. The information, the man standing before him dressed like a comic. He just needed to…

“You won't wake up until the chick writing this story deems it is long enough to win this contest. Or at least to make up for all if the writing she hasn't done in the past few days so how about you just get over it and we can go for some Mexican! I need some chimichangas!” The costumed man walked over to him, looped one arm around his and started to drag him through the streets, skipping and humming like a three year old in pigtails. “Yo! I can work pigtails!”

“What?”

“Nothing, let's find that food huh?”

“You are smoking something.”

“Nope! Totally straight right now. You're dreaming, once we get some food, you will wake up in the wilderness and go back to your fictional life. Not remembering anything I told you, just the fact that you dreamed of me and by the way, you'll wake up with a horrid pain in your neck, that's because a vampire did actually get a hold of you. When the chick writing this started it, she wrote you getting bit just for some flavor, but actually, when she switched to your account she found out that some schmuck actually did munch on you, so you'll actually have to find your way back to the slums so you can continue to find more gun parts. Not that she really should be worrying about gun parts right now. What she really should be wasting her energy on is that hacking again, like that guy told her so that she levels quick as hell because wrote now, she needs to get her *** in gear.”

“What the hell are you talking about?!” Rhett asked, he was getting pretty annoyed with this hallucination now, every thing he was talking about was totally bat **** crazy! He wasn't fiction, he was real. Yeah, he felt like he was being watched sometimes, but that was normal for living in a city full of vampires.

“Vampires aren't real, you aren't real. You are just a figment of some chick’s imagination, someone to write about because she likes a show. And this place? Just part of some game, made by some British guy.” He said with a happiness in his voice that was annoying to say the very least. Rhett was getting to the point that he wanted to wake the hell up just so he could get away from the clown leading him on some fool's errand to find Mexican food. “He can go to a pizza place if that's easier to find!” He chirped, causing Rhett’s head to snap in the direction to look at him. Man he really wanted to deck this guy. “I wouldn't recommend it, I'd break bones you didn't even know you had.” The guy said merrily. Even though his face was masked and there was no mouth hole in it, Rhett could tell the guy was giving him a cocky *** grin. Yeah, he really wanted to wake up now.

“Fine let me help you with that.” Before he could see it coming, he saw it coming, a red and black leather clad fist heading straight for his face and then…

Shooting upright, heart racing like a thoroughbred stallion, Rhett ran his hands all over himself, even smacked himself a few times. He seemed awake this time, and like the clown in the dream said, he didn't remember much, other than his neck would hurt - and it did - and that he wouldn't remember and the longer he was awake the more the dream seemed to fade from his memory, like smoke clearing from a room. He pulled his phone from his pocket and quickly sent a text to Charlie.

RT: I think I'm going nuts.

Charlie: It's about damned time.

RT: Got bit, have to head back to the slums, will chat later.

Charlie: 10-4

[CharlotteC]

Rubbing his neck, Rhett stood as the bus came closer to the Newborough station. One thing he disliked about the feeding habits of the vampires in this city, was the fact that he always ended up in some weird trance, always ended up clear across the city. Thankfully, all he had to do was get back to the slums where he had left his car, where he could continue on his daily gathering of guns and parts. His neck hurt bad today though, however, that was likely because this had been the second night in a row that he had ended up some vampire’s juice box. He didn’t mind when Charlie fed, mostly because he could remember every bit about it, that she had taken from less painful areas. Plus, she was the kind of girl that took blood bags over feeding from the hoof, so when she did feed from him, it was only because there was no other choice.

The bus came to a stop and he hopped off the back exit, making his way past the bank and an old abandoned factory towards the landfill where the slums were. He spotted his car, and it was clear that he hadn’t been away long, because his car was still safe. Then made his way into the entrance once more. And as he looked around, he was surprised to see not just one or two cops, that was normal it seemed, no, there were 4 cops milling around the area. It seemed while he had been gone over the night, someone had gone on another killing spree. He avoided the cops and made his way towards the clubhouse. If anything, that is where he would find out what was going on. Even if all they ever talked about in there was rumors.

The moment he opened the door, he was again shocked to see cops actually in the clubhouse, and he knew then that he wouldn’t find out what was going on. Whenever cops were in the house, rumors seemed to vanish, at least, any that would give him any idea of why there were so many cops in the slums tonight. So, instead of roaming around for information, he went back to what he had normally, done. Looking for guns, for parts. Why these people left the guns around, he would never know, especially when the police were in the house, but they did. With a soft sigh, he ran a hand through his hair and started through the clubhouse. When he got to the master bedroom, he snorted a little. They had hid all the guns in here, and not too carefully. As he packed gun after gun and even a few alright looking parts into the bag, he had, he noticed that his bag was getting full. He would have to make his way to a shop soon.

As he was starting to zip up his bag, shooting broke out in the other room. Rhett cursed to himself and ducked down behind a desk. He was trapped, at least for now, he couldn’t move. He finished zipping up the bag, tossing away one crappy looking gun because he knew it wouldn’t bring in too much money. Then listened as the cops and gangsters, and whoever else was running around, shooting up the place, listening to the yelling and flying bullets, waiting for things to quiet down so he could get the hell out of dodge.

[CharlotteC]

As the place finally fell silent, Rhett found himself letting out a breath did he had not known that he had been holding. Slowly, with a lot of caution, he lifted his head up from behind his barrier and glanced around. Silence. That is all that filled the place now. Standing, he gave his legs a little stretch before he started for the door, pulling it open slowly, he could hear talking, but no shouting, no screaming, no bullets flying everywhere. He pulled it open a bit more and noticed a male he had never seen before, he had also been speaking another language - what he couldn’t tell - but it was clear that he was not welcome into the conversation. It was an A and B conversation so he was going to C himself home as quickly as possible.

Starting to book it for the front door, the male called out. “And where do you think you are going?!” Rhett stopped short of the door, his hand resting on the knob. Slowly, he turned his head to see the male heading his way.

“I am just heading back to my place man, I don’t mean to butt in so I’ll be going now.” He said, trying to use the same sort of tone he had heard Charlie using whenever she was trying to sweet talk the shop keepers to either talk him into paying more for crap or for giving her what she wanted for a hell of alot less than normal. It wasn’t working though. The male stared right at Rhett as if he were smoking something and then stepped into his personal space.

“If I see you in here again, you’ll be exterminated like the rat you are.” Rhett took a step back, glanced to the other male who shook his head. Clearly giving him a message to not say anything more. Getting said message. Rhett just nodded to the male and backed out of the door. There was no way that he was going to turn his back to this freak and give him the opportunity to shoot him in the back.