One Broke the Mold [Enzo Vaughn]

[Nikolae]

Nikolae drew a finger along the sharpest edge of his new favorite sword, admiring the craftsmanship with a smirk of pride. He never did anything by half, and his weapons were a testament to that. It was quiet there, in the Dragomir Temple, and had been for some time. Like their dragon counterparts, many of the Dragomir had found a proverbial cave and gone to sleep. Who knew how many years or centuries it might be before they woke again. His beloved Skuld had briefly made an appearance, covered in dirt and seeking hugs, before wandering into the night again. He did not hold it against her, or any of them really. Nikolae was a solitary creature, and much of his brood was the same. He would make waves in this putrid city for a few months, and then feel himself losing interest and soon enough be back to silence. He would sometimes go months without uttering a word out loud. Perhaps he would send a thought to his eldest, Azraeth, or a half-sane text to the same. If he were feeling froggy, he would inundate his own sires head with inane babble in the hopes the Mad Chad would come crawling out of whatever hole he’d buried himself in and take a swing at Nikolae. He’d enjoy it. In his mind they might have a scrap, and ultimately embrace as childe and sire ought to, speak for an hour or so, and then part ways again. Such was the way of the vampire. Or at least, such was the way of any of his ties. The males of the Dragon bloodline were all in some ways alike in that fashion; they were aloof, quiet and calculating, probably plotting to remove your spine and see what it would look like attached to another person. The females were all mad, crazed in some way – usually a result of too much passion in their veins. Like the dragons, the males were cold as ice and the females were hot as flame. At least, that had been his experience. But then, perhaps that was a matter of choice.

Nikolae slid the sword back into its sheath as he stood, checking the rounds in his favorite gun before donning a jacket to leave. The Dragon was nothing if not hardheaded, and for as long as he could recall he had always shied away from Allurists. Hated them, in fact. Probably a result of the early nights of his vampirism, feeling the sick tendrils of their manipulation wrap around his thoughts and sometimes even wriggling into his heart. He’d nearly slept with one, under that same manipulation. Those charming smiles, the honeyed tones and whispered promises of whatever the hell their target wanted to hear. It gave him chills even now to consider being in the presence of one. But it hadn’t always been that way. No, not by a long shot. As a mortal he thought himself fairly charming – his bed was never empty if he’d wanted it otherwise. But his inner heart had bled black, and so the night Chad had funneled his poisonous blood into Nik he’d been reborne a Shadow.

He thought back to his days as a mortal, and it was like watching the movie of someone elses life. Idealic. Sunny and full of laughter and close ties. Ties that he’d burnt since joining the ranks of the almost immortal. Nik stepped into a bar, and swept his gaze around the patrons with open curiosity. His eyes were hidden behind his usual sunglasses, and the dim lit room didn’t effect him much at all. He took a seat, and felt something inside of himself shift. Coiling and ready, seeking out prey. The loudest, boisterous, most charming male here tonight would die. If he were lucky, there would be a moment that would stay Nik’s fangs. And then he might be reborne with a mouth full of black blood and the searing gaze of a dragon boring into him. Nik grunted at the barkeep who set a glass of something frothy and disgusting in front of him. He wouldn’t drink it, but he’d probably pay for it. Maybe. He angled himself on the stool he was perched on to peer without apology.

[Enzo Dragomir]

Yeah this shite had to go, he thought to himself. Sitting at a table in the dimly lit bar, surrounded by workmates and underlings Enzo was bored out of his skull. They were all here to pump themselves up after an add campaign came to a long run end. They'd pulled it off spectacularly. Of course. It was headed by the master. Himself.

They called him killer and rightly so. He was who you sent into the fray when flags were down and everyone had given up. He was a solo machine. Didn't want you, didn't need you, just give me your money now. He couldn't think of a time he had lead a campaign and didn't have heads of companies licking his shoes.

Bored. Now. His soldiers roared around him, slopping their egos everywhere. Like they had been anything other than what he told them to be. Enzo remained silent in his seat, chin resting on elegant fingers, king of his world. Women were gathering now. They smelled the power coming off of the party. Stupidly equating money as the aftermath of ladder climbing. It was the other way around. You got money and THEN you could move your well tailored arse up the ladder.

How many idiots had he met with new money? No idea how revolting they were in their excessive waste. Never using that start up cash to grab life by the sack and take prisoners. His father August Vaughn had pounded that lesson into his only son and child. Power came easy to the man. Seedy, dark, dirty power. The kind everyone fears because they don't know exactly how much you control.

Cold gray eyes swept over the rambunctious businessmen and the steady flood of same old same old blond bimbo. He wondered what each of them would look like with their lungs pulled through their mouths. Enzo sipped his perfectly aged scotch as he envisioned this while looking at each of them in turn.

Another leggy woman tried slipping beside him, purring her greeting and an expensive manicure in his direction. Normally he would take her up on it, his bed rarely remained empty a night. This night he was hard pressed not to slam his fist into her throat. He wanted free of them all. Maybe he just needed to take a holiday and head back to England for a marsh hunt. **** it. That's what he was going to do.

He leaned back completely ignoring the proffered hand of the expensive husband hunter, barely noticing her wilt at his rejection. "Boyos, I'm headed out to smoke ya bastards." he said with his deep London accent, smooth and well cultured even when sparked with vulgarity. He dismissed them then, smoothing his dark hair back as he walked toward the door already pulling out the Sobranie case housing the Russian black cigs he preferred. Looking at nothing but the exit, Enzo could feel gazes on his broad back. Let them look. Let them see what a Tiger looked like amongst the gazelle.

[Nikolae]

There was some loud crowd already taking up space and sucking down more liquor than oxygen at a table. Nikolae was glad that he couldn’t smell whatever was wafting from their direction. The leader was standing though, and exiting with a scowl on his features. Intriguing. The Dragon waited a moment before standing himself, and tossing a few bills on the counter top for his still-full beer. He couldn’t get a buzz off the stuff anyways, and even if he could have he wouldn’t have bothered with it – not being of his full faculties was a recipe for disaster. He adjusted his jacket, ensuring it hung over his holster at least though the sword made a bulge at his back. His boots thumped quietly across the wooden floor as he trailed after the male and edged out the door silently.

He found his target not far from the door, and swept his gaze over the figure speculatively. So far nothing too exciting, he could die this night. The Dragon stepped closer, away from the lingering light from inside the bar, and let the shadows seep around his frame naturally.

“Evening.” He spoke quietly, head tilting to watch the male speculatively. He rarely felt the need to speak to his meals, but the mortal stood a half chance of being more than fast food for reasons Nikolae still couldn’t put his finger on.

He let his hands dangle at his sides, fingers flexing idly. It would be so easy to simply snatch the human, pull him to the nearest alley, and drain him of every drop. Easier still to toss him in the sewers with the rest of the forgotten things. He didn’t though, at least not at the moment. He wanted to see how the human reacted when out of his natural environment seemingly surrounded by his peons. One thing was for certain, this strange mortal would not be returning to that life – one way or another.

[Enzo Dragomir]

Flame from the lighter glowed against Enzo's face as he dragged in a breath of the much needed Sobranie. It was dark tonight even standing against the front of the club. The garish neon stating the obvious that the place was open did little against the grimy night. He exhaled, the bluish smoke curling over his head, his other hand resting comfortably in his pocket against the small semi he carried everywhere when he heard the door let someone out.

Uninterested in whoever it was he continued to keep his silvered gaze on his cherried tip until he heard the soft greeting. Enzo flicked and looked over, getting ready to give a cigarette, sure that is what he was being spoken to for. His hand flicked the case open and held it out giving him a quiet moment to study his new companion. "Good evening. Care for one?" he queried, his voice deep and luxurious from years of fine study. It was a well developed tool for disarming people and he wielded it well. He kept it simple this time, there was something about this man that had him studying closer.

Enzo was a very good judge of a man, it was what he did. Summed up peoples needs, wants, hidden desires, and used that against them to get them to flock to whatever trend he told them was hot. This one was different though. The way he held himself. Enzo was well built, in shape, and 6'4 an intimidating figure even in the Italian suit. But this man didn't seem uncomfortable at all. There was no puffing of his chest, or the opposite shrinking in on himself when speaking to him.

This man had the same aura that his father wore. Power. Authority. Fearless. It made Enzo's lips twitch in a more cordial smile, finally a person to converse with even for a short time that wasn't another toady. He had all but given up hope there were anything but here in HR. "I'm Enzo, good to meet you."

[Nikolae]

Nikolae eyed the cigarette, and finally took it with a little shrug. It would do nothing for him, and he had no need of breathing anyway. But he understood so many of his kind puffed at the things for something to do; an old habit, an itchy need to twitch and just be moving at all times. The Dragon had never felt that need. He could sit in utter stillness for days if need be, peering into the dying embers of a mortals eyes. Oh, they all had it coming, generally. Whether it was because they were horrible criminals of humanity, or because they'd irritated him - road rage on a new level, and after all he had all of eternity to exact his petty vengeance.

"Thanks." He said quietly, unconcerned really if the mortal could hear him. He should be trying to. He should be straining to soak up every syllable that fell from the Dragon's lips. He waited for the stick to be lit, and when it was he brought it to his lips carelessly. It was a chore, to force his lungs to inflate. Speaking really took so little air to pass over his vocal cords and through his lips - this smoking business was far more than necessary, really. He shifted subtly, until he had his gun-free arm leaning up against a pillar, and pushed the burning acrid smoke back out of his body toward the male.

"A certain heady feeling, to be surrounded by peons." He spoke again, after nearly a minute of silence. He could easily forget to speak, but felt the man needed to hear his words. His jacket made slight noise as he lowered his arm with the cancer stick, flicking the ash carelessly onto the ground. It fell near his familiar heavy black boots half hidden by the black jeans he wore. A Shadow's best friend was the color black, and Nikolae had no exception to that. Head to toe, including the super-tinted sunglasses that always graced his face. "What makes them follow you, I wonder." He added on a near sigh, one dark eyebrow lifting enough to be visible above his glasses and just beneath the messy fringe of his dark hair. He was fairly certain there wasn't any dust in his hair tonight, but he couldn't be sure. He forgot about things like that, especially as he spent enough time in forms other than the body his spirit was housed in.

[Enzo Dragomir]

Enzo tapped his Sobranie again, straining to hear his companion. The man was barely visible wearing head to toe black, bathed in darkness and he had to remain almost still to hear him. When he did hear him again it made a brow shoot up but something about this man made him hold his counsel. He was usually a guarded person to begin with, his words well thought out. There were ever ways to drag yourself down without your words becoming the weight that drowned you.

He shrugged then "Some people, no, the majority of people need to feel they have a place. They say they want freedom. They don't. Not really." Enzo's gray gaze narrowed as he looked back toward his half spent cigarette, the black almost gone to the gold now. "They want to be told who to be. What to want. Told their worth, that they are good and fine. They will then deny it to their dying breath as they lick their leaders boots." He inhaled again, the rowdy sounds from the bar behind him told Enzo his workmates should be calling a cab soon.

"I don't mind the peons. It makes it easier to see the cream rise to the top." It was becoming unsettling watching the man. His lack of movement. It should have registered as efficient but there was something other dimensional about it. Like he really was moving but Enzo wasn't aware of it. Peering closer now, something deep and primal scratched at his brain, clawing to break free. Startled, he realized it was the beginnings of fear. It was absurd, he was in public, had a glock, was in peak physical shape... but there it was.

Enzo fought through it. Each thought a struggle, but damned if he would give in to something so base. "Why do they follow me?" he repeated the question, making sure he had himself controlled again. "Because I told them to."

[Nikolae]

Nikolae would be lying to himself if he said he wasn't intrigued by the male who spoke so freely. Not carelessly, though, that much the Dragon could tell. He listened to the male speaking, remaining silent between bouts of words. For some that would be off putting - the awkward pauses, the lack of a response. He didn't even bother with noncommital sounds and grunts. Seemed a waste of energy, and anyways he hadn't yet decided if the male was worthy of more than a late night snack. The cigarette between his fore and middle finger was still burning, slower now without the aid of his own lungs, and he was nearly distracted by the quiet little sizzle that most probably couldn't hear. His nose twitched.

"So then, you don't know when to follow? When to be quiet and listen, wait for your moment, learn and watch and become something more than you are?"

His voice was fluid, the words nearly melding into one another as he spoke. Knowing that, he spoke a little louder. There wasn't much use speaking if the mortal had no chance of hearing. And hearing was of the utmost importance to this living, breathing creature. He stood up straight again with an easy roll of motion, like a cat slinking from its perch, and moved closer to the male. The smell of him was thick; the usual odors of humanity overlaid with the faintest hints of whatever shampoo, soap, and cologne he might use. But beneath that was the scent of his blood. There were some of his kind who might joke they could tell the strangers type with a mere sniff. Nikolae wasn't one of those, and he had yet to discern one type of blood from another. A mystery, that. Maybe he hadn't given it enough thought. An experiment or seven was due. He should seek out a partner for such scientific endeavors. With a thought, he informed his first borne to remind of such. Raeth. Remind me to learn the differences in blood types, where our kind are concerned. Find me a scientist. Or a masochist. It matters not which, really.

He smiled to himself, though he hadn't said a word of that thought out loud of course. It was a comfort to have his childer ready to respond. Though so few remained. That thought had the smile slipping, and his gaze narrowing on the stranger standing here outside the bar.

"Do you think there is something left for you to learn, stranger? Is there anything that could make you want to?" He asked quietly. For each of his childer, the newer brood, he'd asked a question. It was something important, though he couldn't really say why. Somehow, he thought it might be more imperative for them than for him. Still, he waited silently for the answer, standing possibly uncomfortably close. There was a lot more discomfort in this mortals future.

[Enzo Dragomir]

Enzo forced himself to stand his ground, though the urge to move was tangible. His companion was even more quiet than he could be, something he admired really. A silent well thought man. The man's first question twisted his lips into a wry grin, his long tapered fingers running over his finely groomed beard. 'Everyone needs a teacher. Not everyone needs a leader. Some are the leader." was his simple response.

His cigarette almost spent, he was taking the last bit of smoke from it before he discarded but his hand stilled as the shorter man seemed almost to loom taller than him. An odd optical illusion but it was unnerving none the same. He'd only had the one scotch, that couldn't be the cause. "I'm always learning." he answered "I will learn for as long as my mind can form questions." his father had taught him that. Question everything. Learn all that you can. Life would never hand you anything for free, you had to learn how to take it.

You had to learn how everything was and how it worked. Enzo had suffered enough disapproval when he was young to know he never wanted to bask in it again. So he'd done as he was taught, and then became the very thing his father was. It was a good trade. And he didn't know why he had told this stranger that.

Enzo scowled for a moment as he stubbed out his cigarette. His mind must be suffering high pollution effects. Seriously. There was no other explanation.

[Nikolae]

Nikolae surveyed the male, listening to his answer and considering it with the heavy weight of the long silences stretched between them. At least the self assured mortal was willing to listen, willing to learn. Not so confident as he portrayed himself, not as full of all the answers as those simple minded peons still rowdy and drinking the remaining brain cells between them away inside the bar. The Dragon could work with that.

"What mysteries would you learn, if you had all the time in the world, I wonder." He said at last, not particularly a question but open for an answer if the mortal thought he knew how to reply right now. It was an odd thing, speaking to pure blooded humans, especially about topics such as immortality. Something they could not possibly grasp, even if they tried their hardest to wrap their minds around it. Like asking the eighteen year old boy what he wanted to do for the rest of his life; he was all grown up - a full fledged adult now - so surely he must know how he intended to spend the remaining eighty plus years of his menial existence. No, not a chance. That child knew as much as the grown human lounging here outside the bar what the future held.

Well. Nikolae knew perfectly well. At least the immediate future. Which was far more than this stranger could say for himself.

"I'm Nikolae Dragomir." He spoke again, dropping the cigarette only when he realized it had burned itself down to the stub and nearly singed his fingertips. He didn't often give his name to humans, not even now in his most recent endeavors. No, those mortals knew him only as Nemesis - and for certain that's how things would stay. But this man here, he was unlikely to remain alive for much longer. Whether because he crossed into death in the Dragons embrace, or woke to immortality in the same.

He turned slightly until he was fully facing the man. "Have you ever seen the Temple? In Gullsborough? It isn't far from here. It's beautiful. Everyone should see such a sight before they die." He said, a hint of persuasion in his voice. He wasn't one for charming, and he certainly wasn't one for asking. It wasn't a request. It was just this side of a demand. And truth be told, the Dragomir had every intention of forcing the issue if he must. It had most suddenly become imperative that this mortal not die in the murky alley outside the bar whose name he couldn't even recall. A Dragon deserved a better beginning than that.

[Enzo Dragomir]

He didn't know why he lingered out here. Why he had this unease that made his back straighten and his fingers itch to hold his university swords from fencing. His eyes narrowed slightly and he mentally shook his head, where the hell did that come from? He had his glock right here, why would he want to go all old school suddenly? Enzo's quick thoughts had already circled him back into an almost comfortable place again when the stranger tossed him straight onto his *** into the shadows again. Figuratively.

Saving grace turned out to be his father August. He'd taught Enzo to show nothing on his face, and to never open your mouth with nothing to say. Kept him from gaping like some fresh from the farm boy about to get lucky at a brothel in Vegas. It was funny though, in a very warped, he was unnerved kind of way and he smiled just large enough to show the edges of white teeth. "If I had forever to study one thing, the subject would be 'All things under the Universe.'

Enzo slipped his lighter back into his pocket, leaning against the wall deciding he'd rather be out here and feeling off kilter than with the raucous drunks inside. He'd left them in his mind ages ago, his body just needed to follow. When the smaller man spoke again it was to offer up his name... Nikolae Dragomir... the man rolled that around in his head, never having heard the like before. Perhaps he was of some Slavic decent, a bower of War Princes making heavy in the family tree. "Pleased to meet you Nikolae." he said as his hand extended for a warm shake.

He took the moment to further study Nikolae, now that he wasn't wrapped in the truly bad lighting of the neon beer signs. Pale... and very still. Features that were not unpleasant seemed carved of the same marble his mother coated everything in. The Italian in him enjoyed the unique beauty of it for a moment before the words being spoken sunk in. Like he'd just lost himself and now that he'd been found, he didn't really care what he was now agreeing to.

A temple. Yes, Enzo knew he'd been invited to tour the temple he'd past a few times, admiring it and then driving on. One last look at his peons in the bar and Enzo was decided. Decided for him if he could have seen it.

"Sounds good Nikolae, lead the way." Something in the back of his mind squirmed again. Some thing that was so ancient and ingrained it was likely what saved humans from becoming another fossil race at the bottom of a tar pit. Too bad it's not helping you now Enzo, came the small inner last ditch to reason he had left. Instead he graciously motioned with his hand for his companion to lead the way. He still couldn't shake the feeling he should have brought his Montante instead of his glock. His patrician features showed nothing of the sort however as he made his way toward what he hoped wasn't a table of kool aid and 17 chubby virgins all in a row.