A.R.E.S. - Another Shot at Redemption [Trahir]

[Nikolae]

Nemesis was not entirely keen on the idea of meeting up with the hot head that had previously attended the meeting, the very first gathering of potential members of ARES. The organization was something that was quickly becoming near and dear to his black heart, and so the thought of it being undermined from the start was something that did not sit well with him. In fact, it made the Dragon behind the mask more than a little wary; what could the stranger who had come and demanded things be done his way or not at all, and then demanded answers to every question under the sky, really want in an underground group such as ARES was meant to be? Nikolae was one of the first vampires turned after the ancients had been spat out of their holocaust prison; questions were not something he was unused to, and indeed he had half expected the snarling creature behind the hockey mask to start making demands about what ‘life’ meant and who the vampire Gods were. He cringed and shook his head, glad that the male hadn’t gone down that path. Nikolae had a lot of theories on it, and none of them usually satisfied the yellers such as that one.

Still, Nemesis would give the male another chance. A chance, hopefully, to prove him wrong. That Nemesis believed the man wanted to destroy his organization before it could even get off the ground was a given. He hadn’t survived this many years in the cesspit of Harper Rock without learning a thing or two about social climbers and people who just couldn’t fall in line. Hell, he had had more than a few exactly like this hockey-player within the Dragomir lineage. They hadn’t lasted long. Usually someone else did the deed so he didn’t have to waste the bullets himself. Never let it be said a bounty wasn’t worth its weight in gold. So he’d sent the request to meet the man again, alone. He wouldn’t say unarmed, because nobody in their right mind went anywhere in this town without their trusty slice-and-jab.

He had chosen to meet in a different part of town this time – rather that than risk the male coming upon possible new recruits and attempting to fill their heads with the same sorry ******** he’d blasted relentlessly at the first meeting. Nemesis surely hadn’t been the only one in the warehouse wondering if the man had even been hearing himself speak, or thought before he opened his mouth, or if he was a robot getting cues from a demented loser in his sires basement with delusions of grandeur: picture the poor slob who kept all his acne post-turning, huddled up with his collection of lord of the rings paraphernalia, and jacked himself with the self-made promises of ruling the world one day. Yeah, Nemesis was definitely a first-impressions kill you sort of guy, and that man had made the damned first impression of the century.

He seriously hoped he was wrong. Hoped enough that he’d come to the hunting grounds and sat his handsome hide down on a log, the picture of nonchalance. He hated this area; the Fae had attacked him twice in a span of hours once when he’d closed his eyes just for a second at the entrance. He hated the Fae too ever since then. Still, maybe the warehouse and noise of the city had driven Casey Jones to his end of the world doom-and-gloom Judgement Day bible thumping, and a little bit of fresh air would keep him cool. If not, the bunnies always seemed to cheer people up. He narrowed his eyes behind the sunglasses that covered them at a certain hippity-hoppity. Maybe Enzo would like one. Yes. He’d snatch a bunny for the newling before he left. Decision. Made. He nodded to himself. He was clad in all black, as usual, and had his new favorite mask pulled over his head. It covered all but his eyes, and those too were covered with the glasses. Hands had gloves on them, just in case.

Nemesis waited in silence.

[Trahir Trahison]

Trahir stood at the edge of the water of the small pond on the farm he owned. He wore a pair of blue jeans, worn with age, a simple black t-shirt stretched tight over the musced physique it struggled to conceal and in his hand, the hockey mask. The group he had met with had plans. Sort of. They had ideas. Trahir wasn't a fan of catch as catch can ideas. He preferred a solid, workable plan which took into account variables and reactions at least five steps out. Anything less was usually asking for an errant happenstance to bring chaos into the mix. When you were dealing with the safety of a species which numbered so few as to be considered critically endangered, chaotic events were bad news.

They were potentially careless, reckless, unthinking and swayed by emotions. Trahir watched the placid, thawing waters of the pond with dull, dead, blue eyes. They were much like him. At the moment, there was nothing lurking beneath the surface. He was empty, calm, he was stoic if anything. The beast was not present. Like the lake.

Soon the waters would warm, the beast would return. In him, the brutal serial killer/mass murderer with an unending need for the lives of others to come to a halt under his gaze, his hands. To the waters would return his two pets, Lolong and Gustave. He missed his boys. He missed them dearly. He had refridgerated many leftovers from his own slaughters for them as treats when they came back.

In the Saint Augustine Gator Farm, the locale he had sent them to to winter-over, they were fed pellets. Pellets formulated with the exact nutritional benefits some egghead had cooked up in a lab which was believed to give all the nutrition the animal needed. At home they dined on flesh and bone as nature had designed them to. Nile crocodiles were not made to subsist on pellets. They were designed to hunt, to kill. To roll, rip, tear, destroy.

They were like him. He was like them.

After a good feed, the crocs grew lazy. They lost the zeal for the hunt. They would bask in the sun, rest, they grew docile. Trahir was feeling docile at the moment. His reactions were usually based on his hunger.

He brought the mask to his face, useless if this Nemesis was a telepath. Trahir had thought about forsaking the thing. He was not afraid of another of his kind. He was not afraid of anything. He knew there was a good chance the creature, the Kindred he was heading off to meet was stronger than he was. It didn't matter. Trahir would do as he had done always.

Celerity. The hunting grounds the place was known as. The place was abundant in wildlife. Trahir himself hunted these woods. He enjoyed the sport of going weaponless against the best nature had to offer in the area. Sometimes he wished Harper Rock would transport to an area with more though. Water buffalo, lions, tigers, something... more.

He walked quietly through the woods, his eyes seeking the form of the man he had been summoned here to meet. He was unarmed. What was the point in a weapon when one was a weapon made flesh? Range was neutered by speed perhaps the equal of a bullet and blade by wickedly sharp claws that sprung from his hands at will. Weapons were clumsy things. They could be knocked from one's grasp, they could break. Besides, this man wished to speak, otherwise it would have been bullets rather than an invitation which had reached the young Killer.

It wasn't long before he came across his quarry.

The hockey-masked figure emerged into the clearing and simply stood, watching the black clad man before him for a moment without saying a word.

[Nikolae]

Nemesis heard the slight rustle as the man finally appeared. He looked over at the hulking creature silently for a long moment. Calculating, cold and considering in his assessment of the possibly quite mad man before him. Little could really be gauged, however; the man was in much the same dress as he had been before. Same creepy hockey mask – only the big knife was missing and he could qualify as a cheesy horror flick come to life. Nemesis remained seated and gestured the man to draw closer. There would be no grandiose speeches this time, words seemed lost. Not only on Casey Jones, but on any who had passing interest in this little endeavor. It had become clear to Nemesis that those who reached out to join ARES had already decided what it was or was not about, at least to some extent, before ever meeting him at all. Whether that was a good thing – time saving if nothing else – or bad, he had yet to fully decide.

“I wasn’t sure you would show,” He admitted after that lengthy quiet between them. He was armed himself, and not trying to hide it. Nemesis didn’t go anywhere without his weapons, not even into the declared neutral territory of the Temple. He shifted where he sat quietly.

“But I’m… glad that you did.” He tacked on after a moment, giving a slow nod after. He was, he thought. The man could have something to offer, and what they had planned would no doubt take the very best the city had to offer, and in lieu of that at least the most motivated.

“Have you had time to consider what ARES might mean to you, and to the whole of this little piece of the world we are all forced to cohabitate on?” Nemesis asked quietly, hands hanging loosely as he rested his forearms on the tops of his thighs. He didn’t dare take his eyes off of the veritable stranger standing before him. Nemesis could dip into the males mind if he really wanted to, but that would ruin the bit of trust this venture begged. It was the one thing he wanted all the members of his little Faction to appreciate – that nothing in this town was possible without that modicum of trust to share between one another. If you could not trust the vampire, or gifted human, at your back then there really was not much point in having them there at all. And if you could trust no one, then immortality was a futile goal indeed – and a curse at that.

[Trahir Trahison]

Trahir was no telepath. He had no interest at all in being one. He knew the path came with certain advantages. He could be able to read thoughts, see memories, gauge the relative strength of an opponent, manipulate people, and make toasters pop-up early of whatever that techno power was that he'd heard about. No, he had no interest in it. It wasn't that he wasn't cerebral. He plotted and planned extensively and constantly, it's just that the vampire simply didn't care what others thought. Anyone who he would mind read likely wouldn't be around long enough for their opinions to matter. He'd leave the energy required to gain those abilities to others who might find more purpose to them. What Trahir was, was practical and a Killer. A Shifter really if one Path or Bridge ~had~ to define him. He was anonymous by dint of the choices of hobbies he'd made. One can't very well advertise being a serial and mass murderer and feeder of human meat to reptiles. Nor could he sell his various arts and crafts to people openly.

Things made of people were frowned upon in polite society.

"Potential. Potential salvation or potential disaster depending what the goals and methods of achieving them are."

He walks over to the log and leans against it. Had they been human it would have been an easy wager which would best which between the two in a physical contest. They weren't though and Trahir knew his age. He knew the strength of others at his age and if this vampire next to him was only a few months older than him they might be close to equal. Chances are though he would be several years ahead. Trahir would at that point be no match for the man. He doesn't leave much distance between them because honestly, what would be the point? Celerity, teleportation, even mind control for an instant were all possible weapons in the other vampire's arsenal. Not to mention Trahir suspected the man was armed.

"Which is it?"

[Nikolae]

Nemesis was quiet, watching the other male for any outward or obvious signs of deviousness. It probably would not be so easy to pick up on such things, but Nemesis was a keen Shadow who liked to think himself a relatively good judge of character. That he had not been impressed upon his first meeting with the other male had already been stated, but like all things in this immortal life – there were such things as second chances. Their very existence proved that. And so many of their kind had turned their back on the previous lives – Nemesis included. Though, he had a thought that at some point ARES would play a vital role in discovering the secrets of his own existence. Far more there than simple vampirey. There always had been.

"Potential. Potential salvation or potential disaster depending what the goals and methods of achieving them are."

Nemesis nodded at the statement that was surely more of a question, perhaps even a challenge. He tilted his head back assessing. He considered his reply for a moment, careful to guage the other mans reaction to his words.

“All very valid points, Mister Jones.” He chuckled to himself and gave a slight shrug. “The methods will be careful. We are immortals, all of us, and have a lot to lose should we be caught. Imagine the things those humans behind their defenses could do to any of us. What horrors might await.” He paused and shook his head. “The goals. The goals are protection, survival of the supernatural. There is so much more going on behind the scenes. This relentless talk of Secrecy is a ruse. A pretty distraction keeping all and any of us from seeing what is really going on. From answering questions that need answered. From even bothering to ask them. No longer.” He stood fluidly and faced the man.

“My childer will not continue to exist the half life so many have doomed us to. Why should we be trapped in this town? Why is it these creatures continue to come out of the Realm, and what else could follow them? What’s to come is far bigger than humans no longer pretending they do not know of us. Because they do. They so obviously know what is going on in this town. Their presence here proves that. So we must be ready to protect and defend our species against what is coming. Not only from those humans, but from what ever else may be next. It’s the next that concerns me most, personally.” He stepped back.

“I am no Telepath. Could not hope to guess the future. Nor am I a messiah. I am merely a vampire who has been in this town long enough to see the writing on the wall. Long enough that I’m done with holding my tongue and going along as things deteriorate and explode around us. We all have much to lose, and it’s that shared threat that binds us together. I hope you can agree with that.”

[Trahir Trahison]

Trahir, or Casey as he seemed to be known, listened to the vampire carefully. Rhetoric, no solid plan given. The logical mind of the Killer took the facts it knew. Secrecy would mean indefinite survival. No one knowing meant no one interfering. People did know however. It may not be common knowledge, but that was indeed a matter of time. He could not fit in in the human world. He craved the hunt, man. The most dangerous prey. Right now leaving a body exsanguinated with a throat cut over a storm drain led cops to believe a murderer, a human murderer slit their throat. Once the Masquerade was gone? No. That would scream vampire.

"It took four years for you and others like you, those who refuse to adhere to secrecy to **** up those who do. How long to you think it would take for you to weed out the vampires who cast our race in what humans consider a negative light? Are you aware a sizable amount of our kind simply can not avoid killing humans? Do you believe they will accept that? What is your method for attaining what no other predator on earth has with mankind? The right to predate without purge?"

The emotionless eyes behind the hockey mask do no deviate from the mans face. "Which of us will you be willing to sacrifice in the name of your personal right to walk boldfaced in the light? I know of a plethora of our kind who can not simply "give up" our ways. They would be unacceptable to humans. If you are going to expect to assimilate into human culture with them knowing what you are, it's best you know what we are... and what we may become. Killers seem to lose the ability not to kill as time progresses. Killers want, or need even... to kill. How will you explain this to the humans? Or will you simply purge all of that Path?"

He looks away then, glancing about to assure they are truly alone.