AC/DC [Closed]

[Azraeth]

There was a hand on his own, and it sat there with uncommon familiarity. The conversations went on around them, the players talking, the wives talking. Miniature discussions breaking out when the topic turned to something of particular interest, like the latest gossip. The whole thing was recognizable and yet different all at the same time. He had seen similar scenes play out at the Dragomir parties, with people chatting away or sectioning themselves of to chatter away about some topic or another. And yet, Az lived in a world of shadows, which only ever superficially touched the world of light. Different and yet completely the same all at once. Another spark of hesitation grew at the base of his spine, and got fanned upwards towards his chest. Did he know what he was doing? Was it a good idea to expose Diego to things that could get him killed? Was he robbing the man's life from him, by tugging him into the darkness? Those questions bubbled up from the depths and settle in his skull.

Did it matter? Diego was going to die someday anyway wasn't he? So if Az showed him some things along the way, if he expanded his horizons, why did that matter? So what if Az wanted to play God just a little bit? That hesitation cooled as quickly as it had warmed up. What had drawn the vampire to the human? The taste of blood? That was part of it. The hypnotic, mutual attraction had been part of it too. The strength and independence. Those had been the facets of Diego which Azraeth had found most appealing, so he had to have faith that the Brazilian could take care of himself. Protect himself. Because that was the way of dragons, to trust in the solidity of their partners. In other words, Az needed to stop worrying so much. Sink or swim.

Sink or swim.

"You make that sound less like a bad thing, and more like something you like." He noted. Impatient. The opposite was true in most things, but for some reason Diego brought out this urge in Az to take exactly what he wanted. When he wanted. That's right. It's your fault. The thought eased its way through his mind, forcing a half formed smile as he listened to the Brazilian. "Be still my heart. I think that was the most romantic word-picture I've ever been drawn." He cut back wryly even as his hand shifted against the other man, his gaze lifting to catch sight of the food being laid out. He caught sight of the smile Diego wore for one of the female servers. There was a moment of silence then before he watched her walking away.

"I've got to run for just a moment. I'll be right back." He commented to the table before his gaze dropped once more to Diego. "You should eat up, because we've got to run in about..." He glanced down to his phone, which he'd seamlessly drawn from his pocket. "Another fifteen or so minutes." He commented before sliding out of the room. It didn't take him more than a minute to catch up with the woman who had been dropping food off. She was heading into the back, towards the kitchen when he caught her by the shoulder, giving her a tug around, to peer into her eyes. Underneath the contacts, he could feel his pupils thinning. She stood there, quiet and still as a stone. And then she was abruptly gone. His form cast a shadow over where hers had been. Dangerous game in such a public place, but with secrecy failing more and more with each passing day...well it wasn't like anyone would remember his face anyway. There and gone again.

And where exactly had he sent her? He'd dropped her into the water in Thornside Park. At least he hadn't killed her. As far as he was concerned, that was a win in his book. So he carefully wiped his hand on his jacket before stepping right back towards the party room, plunking to sit once more beside Diego. "I return." He murmured to the man, his hand once again sliding to rest above a knee. Everyone had gotten into the eating of the food while Az was away, which was to be expected. The vampire glanced sidelong at the man for a moment. Conspiritorial. That was a good word to describe the exchange there.

"You know, I'd love to hear some more about what you teach." The words cut through the sound of forks on plates. They had come from right out of Trisha's lips, and Az straightened a little in his seat, feeling attention drawn to him.

"Oh. Well I have a degree in anthropology. I have done a lot of work in the fields of linguistics and culture, with a little dabbling in archeology. The study itself is so broad that it's difficult not to separate the different components, and yet they all interconnect. My current lecture tour deals with a variety of subjects, but the one I'm here for is holistic cultural analysis." He paused briefly, checking to make sure that they were still paying attention, because he knew the topic wasn't exactly the most exciting in the world. He wouldn't have called their stares engaged, but at least they were still checked into the moment. "Basically I use specific examples to cut apart a particular civilization to look at their language, their tools, their history. By dissecting everything into tiny pieces, I can effectively replicate a day in the life of the average person. Which is ultimately what the students are interested in: accurate models of history."

And to his credit, that much was true. Az was going to be lecturing under the name William at one of the local universities. So if any of them bothered to fact check, they would find out that was true. Though after he explained, he fell largely silent, glancing towards Diego once more. "If any of you have an interest in learning about language clash, language evolution, and language extinction, I have a book in the works." He continued to fill the silence. Which was right about the time someone decided to interject and change the subject. Not that Azraeth minded.

[Diego Santos (DELETED 7309)]

It was during the moment that Diego’s back was turned that a veritable parade of footballers and WAGs entered the restaurant. It was the rest of the team as it happened, save for Matthew Townsend, his “super-hot-girlfriend” Natalie, and the team’s manager Frank. Nevertheless, they could probably get along without these key players for a few more moments and there was still a matter of the bet to be had on just when Townsend would show his face – if at all. Diego, meanwhile, especially didn’t seem to care that the swarm had entered, much less noticed that they were a few people down, as those voracious green eyes were stuck on Azraeth. They could have been surrounded by a pack of starving wolves and the Brazilian’s reaction was unlikely to have been any different. It was reckless of him to get so swept away like that, but he really couldn’t help himself. A man can’t live his life accustomed to prime rib and then be expected to be satisfied with minced offal.

It was only when Azraeth excused himself suddenly that Diego was released from his hypnosis, realising that he’d completely missed it when the flood of bodies had poured in around him. Diego looked around the table at the group, faces now familiar and welcoming as any adopted family could be. Relief was there, washing over his frets like a slow tide rippling the shore, but he was anything but relaxed. Mike Simmons had sat right next to him, offering the Brazilian a wide smile and lifting his beer when those green eyes swept his way. Diego gave the man a weak smile in return and just sat there too quietly, waiting until the Vampire returned. Diego wasn’t even interested in the food set down before them despite not having eaten since some time earlier in the afternoon. It must have been hours before the match because he’d been anxious about tonight, just about recalling what he’d had for breakfast. Now that it was all over, now that they had something to celebrate, the Brazilian should have gotten tucked in with his comrades. Instead, he was looking around the room, fidgeting.

Fortunately, he didn’t have to wait too long for the Vampire to return. Diego hadn’t seen where Azraeth had run off to, what he was up to, but the Brazilian had an accusatory look on his face when Azraeth had sat back down. It was the nature of the beast to suspect that the Vampire had been up to something circumspect. Not only did Diego figure that Azraeth didn’t do normal Human stuff like eat or drink or visit the restroom, he didn’t suspect that Azraeth could go a full hour without doing something supernatural. Of course, while Diego suspected that the Vampire had been up to something, he had no idea that he’d teleported Kandi – their waitress – into a river. The look that Azraeth gave Diego in return did nothing to relieve the Brazilian’s suspicions or his stress levels, and had it not been for Trisha’s untimely question, Diego might have asked Azraeth just what the **** he was up to. Biting back on the venom and impatience building in his gut then, Diego sat back and paid absolutely no attention to what stories Azraeth was giving Trisha. Really, the Vampire was addressing the crowd because each man and woman at the table had basically quietened to listen to what the interloper had to say. Like a recently chided infant, however, Diego slumped in his seat waiting for this all to be over so he could go home and play with his toys…

“Wow, your cousin’s smart, man,” said Simmons who’d nudged the Brazilian’s elbow to get his full attention some moments later. “I don’t think I understood anything he said.”

Diego frowned at him. “So… that means he’s smart?”

“Well, yeah. If I can’t understand it, like, that must mean it’s clever ****.”

“Uh huh…”

Despite the incredulous look on his face that spoke loudly enough as it was, Diego decided to leave it there. They were in a good place right now, and that harmony wouldn’t continue if Diego pointed out that Simmons was basically calling himself a moron without realising it. It was true, sure, and everyone around the table knew that Simmons was a few tools short for any job, but you don’t just tell a guy that. Besides, being a moron was his only sin. Simmons was actually a really friendly guy, was loyal, optimistic, and had been the glue that held that team together for the longest time. The team had had players, coaches, and loved ones walk in and out of their lives for various reasons a great number of times, so it could be difficult to forge a strong unit – a unit that trusted each other. Without Simmons, the team probably would have withered a long time ago, and it was out of respect of that and little more that made Diego decide to smile fondly, shake his head, and let the subject go.

Simmons seemed happy enough with the outcome and tuned into the new conversation that had risen out of the ashes of cousin William’s speech on anthropology. It was pretty obvious that no one around the table, save Trisha, had any idea what had been said and what the definition of anthropology was, but that didn’t stop them from taking digs at customs they found weird. There were a number of debates, and maybe it was because they were around a dining table that the conversation quickly began to centre around food. By the time talk turned to eating bugs and even dogs, Diego found himself turning inwardly as well as a shade paler. It was surprising even to him that he’d suddenly felt sick, because the last time he checked, his stomach was lined with steel panels. Nothing made the Brazilian nauseous, nothing made him turn his nose up to food, so this was a fresh taste of discomfort. Diego put his half-empty beer onto the table and decided now was as good a time as any to bow out.

“What’s the matter Santos?” came the booming voice of Trey White over the clanking of cutlery and porcelain. “You look like you’re gonna throw up.”

“Should we stop talking about how crunchy crickets are?” weighed in Hugh Cote, grinning sharply. “And, like, how their legs are all spinally?”

“I hear they eat live octopuses in Japan too. Imagine that clinging to your throat when you’re trying to swallow it!” added Chris Roy, his blue eyes keenly focused on Diego’s greening face. “All those suckers grabbing at your insides as he’s crawling back up!”

“Ok. All of you need to go **** yourselves,” Diego growled weakly.

“Don’t they eat like… pissed on fish in Iceland?” Jean Noons interjected, taking away from Diego’s threat entirely.

“It’s shark. And they don’t piss on it,” Dong Chan corrected. “The fish has fermented to the point where it has a strong odour of ammonia.”

“Same thing,” Noons declared.

“That’s ******* nasty either way, man,” Simmons laughed. “I mean, why would you wanna eat that? You might as well go lick a John.”

“Which is probably as bad as licking Johnson,” remarked Malcolm Atwell, who just so happened to be sat directly opposite Zack Johnson. “I feel bad for Tiffany.”

Instead of replying to Atwell with any words of his own, the seemingly mute Frenchman just stuck his middle finger up. Tiffany, Zack’s newly acquired girlfriend, was trying not to fall under the charms of the dashing Caribbean man sat directly opposite to her, going so far as to deposit her girlish giggle into the palm of her hand. Anybody who had noticed the not-so-subtle flirtation transpiring between Atwell and Johnson’s girlfriend were happy enough to change the subject back to making Diego throw up. Trisha, apparently, had taken the starring role for that job with just one word.

“Balut,” she said proudly, as if telling horror stories to kids around a campfire. “Ever heard of it?”

A crowd of mostly blank faces were staring back at her, urging her to reveal all.

“It’s a boiled embryo of a bird eaten directly from the shell. Sometimes the embryo is so well developed that you can actually see the eyes, the bill, the webbed feet, and even… feathers.”

A chorus of disgusted noises came from the diners, but aside from focusing on their own disgust, a large number of the diners looked straight to Diego. Trisha’s deep, dark eyes had never left the Brazilian’s face, however, and she smiled proud and ominous as Diego shook his head several times, rose from his seat and bolted for the door. And apparently that was something to celebrate too as the team began to applaud Diego’s not-so-elegant scramble for the exit. The Brazilian didn’t wait to see if Azraeth had followed him because he was too focused on diving out the door and dry-heaving over the pavement.

[Azraeth]

As it often did when the topic turned to culture, the subject immediately went to what many would have considered the odd or taboo. Azraeth wanted to interject, saying that what everyone at the table considered strange was formed almost exclusively by social norms. Programming done as soon as a person got out of the womb. Programming by family. Programming by school. Programming by media and friends, and social interaction. He wanted to say that the things each of them considered normal or sane were just acceptable to the communities in which they had been raised, and that many Eastern cultures would likely have found them strange. Quite possibly the best example was the eating of dog meat. Commonly practiced across China, selling dog meat was so profitable in Taiwan that it led to a spike in the theft of household pets. In Western cultures, the idea of eating 'man's best friend' was such a heinous thought that the thought was enough to turn most stomachs.

He wanted to relate the concept of cultural relativity, wherein one attempts to understand a community or culture from the standpoint of that culture, not as an outsider, but a participant. He didn't, because he loathed being lectured himself, and wasn't about to inflict that on everyone sitting at the table. They were just having fun. Making light conversation. That was one of the ways Az had grown over the years, since he'd been turned. He was frequently right when he knew everyone around him was wrong. He had gone through that phase when he sought to preach the gospel of tolerance, of acceptance. He had extolled the virtues of foreplanning and careful maneuvering. People rarely listened to him. If you were to look at CrowNet, his thoughts were frequently denigrated with the vitriol of children tantrumming at the thought of a parent asking them to accept some accountability. He knew when he was right but that didn't mean he felt the need to rub it in, to use it as a weapon, to be cruel with his intellect. Because in Az's world, kindness meant a hell of a lot more than being smart.

So rather than try to take away from the conversation, he simply smiled, laughed, at the appropriate times. He enjoyed himself because it was exactly the same type of conversation someone from another country probably had about people from the Americas. And that was a hell of a lot more real than trying to force pseudo-scholastic terminology down the throats of people who probably didn't want to hear about it. Tribes. From the beginning of man to the modern day, that was always what happened. People broke off into groups and tribes and cliques. They created their own shorthand language, their own inside jokes, and they put down anyone outside of that tribe. Some might have said that life itself was a journey to find one's tribe. To become embraced by people who had the ability to understand your experiences, desires, and idiosyncrasies. Indeed, Azraeth had spent much of his life searching for his tribe, his family, because he had been born into a biological ancestry whose key emotional traits were instability and cruelty. And that wasn't who he was. And yet that was who he was, those same attributes stitched into his DNA, but he fought that aspect of himself through the voices of the people he surrounded himself with.

The closest person he'd ever been to? Nikolae. A man he'd only known for half a decade. The man who had murdered him. And yet it was Nikolae's strength that gave Azraeth license to embrace his own oddities. Az was fearless because that was what his sire had modeled for him. And that was the foundation of his tribe. The Dragomir. His family when his biological family had faltered at every step to accept him. The other reason Az made no effort to educate the people at the table? Because they were Diego's tribe, and Azraeth didn't want to damage the man's image to them. Would Diego feel the same when he met the Dragomir? Would he even survive the meeting? That was a worry for another day.

Az processed all of those thoughts while the information being gathered from the other people at the little party stewed in his mind, leaving him to add a little bit of commentary to everything that was said, his gaze dragging to the side when someone mentioned that Diego looked sick. Dark brows slowly arched higher in question. Did the human have a weak stomach? Or was it a situational matter? Was Azraeth making him feel uncomfortable? The Mystic dismissed the thought almost as soon as it bubbled to the surface though, his arm sliding around Diego's middle in a show of support.

Hakarl. Az thought to himself as the subject turned to the fermented shark from Iceland. And as the conversation continued, his mind was brought immediately to Haunted, one of the books he'd been reading recently. Near the end, one of the main characters chopped off his own penis, and another one of the main characters choked to death trying to eat it. They had been starving and both ended up dead. One from choking. One from blood loss.

He almost wanted to say that Balut was second to bluefin tuna eyes, which were enormous and had a jelly-like consistency inside. They were extremely high in collagen, and were a delicacy in Japan. He'd had them once when he'd been alive, and it tasted a lot like squid. However he didn't get the chance, because it seemed Diego really did need to get outside. So Az slid off with him, through the crowd of people who had followed them from the stadium. There were some fans eating as well, and a few of them wanted to get closer to the footballer, only to be greeted with a less than pleasant expression from the vampire who followed along.

By the time they got outside, Az had a hand on Diego's back, lightly patting between shoulder blades, only to lazily rub there while the other man dry heaved on the pavement. He waited and watched, but it didn't seem the other man was actually going to bring anything up. "You alright?" He asked after another moment, his gaze dropping to a telephone screen as he drew it out of his pocket. Nervous habit. There were some vampires who had this uncanny ability to stay awake during the daylight hours. Az literally passed out the moment the sun was up. He knew it was hours away, but he liked to be absolutely sure. Better that than finding himself waking up in some strange place.

"It's time for us to go, babe. I hope you don't really have a weak stomach, because what you're about to see is going to leave you pulling a Poltergeist." He commented before glancing towards the car, tugging the other man towards it.

[Diego Santos (DELETED 7309)]

Fresh air. Fresh air and space – that was what the Brazilian needed just then. Unfortunately, one was more affordable than the other. The minute Diego was out the doors of the restaurant, the fog of tomatoes, herbs, cheese, and vinegar was whisked away, replaced by a scentless breeze. Still, every breath in did nothing to curb that itching fire in the Brazilian’s throat. Every desperate, wheezing, coughing sound he made as he floundered out of the door at least encouraged the crowds of spectators to back up, even if it didn’t make them leave entirely though. After all, this was a show to be paid for: victorious soccer stars party so hard, so fast, that Luigi’s pizza becomes pavement pizza in 5 minutes. It wasn’t going to do Diego or the team any favours to have those less-than-flattering pictures and headlines plastered over the local tabloids, but that was the last thing on the Brazilian’s mind. As a matter of fact, he hadn’t even noticed the crowd around him. His peripherals had blackened, leaving him with tunnel-vision as he made for a quiet space of pavement; a space that wouldn’t cause a massive problem if he was indeed about to be reminded of what he had for breakfast.

A few uncomfortable, unsettling moments left the Brazilian in a state of numbness. It wasn’t until the phoenix feather in his throat finally turned to ash that Diego heard the soothing voice in his ear and felt the comforting hand on his back. It all came to him quite slowly though, like treacle dripping from a spoon, or more accurately, like waking from a deep sleep and finding yourself in a room you don’t recognise. Having Azraeth right there though helped to alleviate some of the disorientation as his senses pooled, or at least convinced the Brazilian not to care about the world beyond the Vampire again. Although it was only seconds past the question, it felt like minutes before Diego felt secure enough to make a sound that didn’t give the impression that someone was trying to force a live duck into a trash compactor. It was weak, but, Diego managed a quiet Yes before squeezing his eyes closed and focused on pushing away the nausea. He was still arched over slightly, but now his hands rested on the flanks of his thighs like a jogger trying to catch their breath.

Of course, by this time Diego was fully aware that there was a crowd around him; a crowd made mostly of the press and a few pushy fans. Diego saw the camera flashes even through his closed eyes and there was certainly no way to shut his ears to the sound. Plastic, metal, and cloth-swathed flesh jostled against each other, too close for comfort, chattering and thrashing and chomping like a steam train at full speed. As much as Diego would have preferred to fully collect himself before making a dash for freedom, he was gradually becoming alert to the fact that he was basically dipping his balls into a tank of sharks just by standing there. It suddenly didn’t matter that he still felt dizzy – that the world was swaying beneath his feet with the arduous rhythm of a clock pendulum – they needed to get the **** out of there. Green eyes opened to the tug on his arm, realising that his feet were already trained to follow Azraeth away from the crowd and behind the restaurant where they’d parked. To his annoyance, however, the media horde was determined to follow.

“Exorcist,” Diego breathed, glancing over at his companion intermittently as they approached the Mustang. “The pea soup bit was in Exorcist.”

There was a smile on his face again, the defiant kind that broke through the slight misting of perspiration gathered on his skin. It was petty, but, it felt like a victory to correct Azraeth on one tiny, unremarkable speck of a thing. After his less-than-glamorous performance, he kind of needed the boost. At least, Diego figured he was right. His knowledge of films wasn’t all that fantastic, but he couldn’t recall a vomiting scene in Poltergeist. Granted, Diego didn’t know much about the supernatural world and he lacked an imagination, so he couldn’t actually envision a scenario where he could be pulled into a ghost dimension upon their visit to this Quarantined Zone. Since Azraeth had allowed Diego to dream up some kind of miniature Chernobyl incident when it came to the QZ, the Brazilian had no idea that the hungry swarm of bodies surrounding the pair inside the Mustang was what they called, in the movie business, foreshadowing.

“Where did you say this place was again?” Diego asked, hoping the sound of the engine would drown out the wails of the crowd. He was glad that the Mustang had a metal roof in case the crowd become ever more zealous.

[Azraeth]

Paparazzi parasites, the lot of them. People who would never know fame. Moths who got closer and closer to the flame in hopes that they would burst into fire and then turn to ash in the inferno of the celebrity status people with more talent naturally achieved just by living and doing what they loved. Azraeth ignored them for the most part. There was a vague moment when he worried what the titles in the paper might have to say: Mysterious man follows famous footballer! What if someone reading managed to recognize the body he had come to inhabit on his most recent trip out of the Shadow Realm? What if there was some unknown debt of life his flesh owed? He wasn't going to get anywhere if he spent all of his time worried though, and there was little he could do about the images already captured. Perhaps he would relate the experience back to Nikolae, who was gifted at getting into other people's computers. Digital evidence was easy to spread, easy to maintain, but also easy to erase with the right knowledge. If any of that mattered. Secrecy was slowly slipping away, like grains of sand slipping through fingers. One day it would disappear. So he waited patiently while Diego sought to reclaim his bearings.

He lightly pulled at the other man's bicep with one hand, his fingers slipping over an arm and very nearly reaching to grip a hand. He fell short at the flash of a camera, and then he thought better of his hesitation, squeezing a palm. "Oh." He said. That was right. The pea soup was Exorcist. "You ,know I'm naturally a blond, right?" He asked, managing to keep the sheepishness out of his voice. And then, as if deciding on something, he grinned in that slightly inhuman way that should have been a little bit painful, and showed off entirely too many teeth. "Though come to think of it, I'm pretty sure you're...wrong. Guess we'll just have to watch the two movies to be absolutely sure." Getting into the car and pulling out of the parking lot while photographers attempted to make their careers went by in a blur. He didn't remember any of the mechanics of it. The opening of the door. Sitting down. The purr of the engine. The jerk of the car when rubber yanked at asphalt. But soon they were on the road, and he was half turned to peer over to Diego. He was silent for several moments as he considered. There were various ideas worming their way through his brain. Like turning it into a gamble. He already knew the answer though, and while he didn't mind rigging a bet, he wasn't the sort of person to just walk into a risk knowing he would fail. So instead, he just watched the human drive.

It was strange how different death made a person. Azraeth never had to get behind a wheel if he didn't want to. The entire thing was foreign to him, like being an alien on the planet earth. Invader Zim. He could just think and exert a little bit of willpower. Suddenly he was exactly where he wanted to be. Watching Diego master the metal and machinery was fascinating in its own way, because it just wasn't part of Az's world. The running theme of their relationship hammered itself into his mind once more. They were different. So very different. But Az got to see bits and pieces of Diego that very few people were privy to, and the human? Well. He had seen the vampire unmasked more than once. They had met and known each other, which was a startling experience for someone like Az, who carefully cultivated his many different faces. They were extremely different, and yet they were same in one very important way. They each saw through people in different ways. They were each drawn to the mystery represented in their shared experience. Because that was what it was. An experience.

And it infinitely captured Az's attention, and left him engrossed in the moment.

That was what he craved. Being pulled out of his mind and into every single second. "I'm probably going to kill a couple of them." He admitted honestly, when they were definitely out of ear shot and out of the parking lot. "I smelled virgin in the crowd, and finding a proper sacrifice these days can be a chore." His features remained entirely deadpan, which was in part because the humor was particularly dark, and in part because it was somewhat true. Az did engage in human sacrifice once a month, but virgins weren't actually all that difficult to find. With the advent of the internet and the rise of nerd culture, there were more and more people who just didn't see the need to have sex. Yay opportunity. The 'joke' delivered, he glanced towards the window. "We will need to park in Gullsborough and go through the sewers. Or I could probably just carry you across the water." Though he wasn't actually sure that was how it worked. As far as he understood, water walk allowed him to lighten enough to step on the surface of the river, but he wasn't sure that extended to everything touching him at the time. "Actually, just find a parking lot and I can teleport us the rest of the way." He decided, because taking the easy route seemed the best bet.

And so, it was only a few minutes later that the pair of them pulled into a nearly empty lot several miles away from the restaurant. The building the lot was attached to looked to be closed down, with large plywood boards covering windows. There was trash scattered across the pavement, and the wind caught a bag of empty Doritos, scraping it towards them as Az undid his seatbelt (safety first). He reached for Diego almost as soon as the engine cut, and then they were gone. The car was empty. Hopefully the doors had been locked, because otherwise, Diego was probably going to find his very attractive car stolen.

They reappeared in the middle of Corvidae. Vampire owned and operated apartment building in the middle of the zombie infestation. This was Diego s first step into the supernatural. Harry's first step into Diagon Alley. Welcome to the darkside. "Stay close, and if anyone tries to eat you, tell them you belong to me."

[Diego Santos (DELETED 7309)]

The whole experience, from almost spewing his guts on the sidewalk, to pushing through the paparazzi to his car, and then driving to this questionable destination, had left Diego at a loss for words. Although his palm was bound to the steering wheel – the texture of high-quality leather a warm cushioning under his grip – he still felt a cool tingle beneath the layers of his skin. It was a mark, a reminder, that Azraeth had boldly grabbed his hand as they marched in jagged unison to the Mustang. It had all been a blur, a fragmented memory of flashing lights and empty faces, of too many voices climbing over one another. Diego found it hard to distinguish the aching nausea in his stomach from the anxiety that was most definitely squirming around in there. He actually felt like he had a stomach full of worms and a head full of moths. Every thought felt insubstantial, falling away from him, crumbling into glistening dust because he just couldn’t focus again. It was as if Azraeth had this special capability that made the Brazilian forget about everything else. His mind couldn’t grasp the reasons of why he should feel threatened or nervous, and while that didn’t stop his body from reacting, Diego ultimately decided not to care about it. Not right now.

Originally, the Brazilian had thought that Azraeth had put him under some kind of spell. It wasn’t a completely preposterous theory given how the Vampire spoke of magic and impossibilities as though he was casually commenting on the composure of the sky. Teleportation was the clouds, drinking blood was the rain, and killing people, as well as sacrificing virgins, was invariably the storm. Diego failed to even blink when Azraeth’s whimsical comment about the paparazzi was made. It was becoming one of those things you didn’t focus too much on, a landmark or a tree that whizzed by like a smudge of paint on the canvas because your focus was elsewhere. When you were travelling to a superior destination, you rarely cared about the journey. He did, however, laugh to himself a little when the joke was made. It shouldn’t have been funny, right? Normal people don’t find genuine amusement in indiscriminately murdering other people because they were something of a nuisance. Of course Diego knew that there was a kernel of truth mixed in there, that Azraeth was certainly capable – and absolutely willing – to do that kind of thing. The severity of the situation wasn’t lost on him, not exactly, but Diego’s thoughts didn’t linger there. Instead, he only considered questioning the Vampire’s apparent Bloodhound senses. If you can smell whether someone was a virgin or not, what else could you detect?

It was selfishness, pure and simple. He traded the troubles and the burdens put upon other people to further his own goals, to make himself happy. And apparently, Diego was happy when he was with this enigmatic prince of darkness, regardless of the crimes on Humanity or even his own ego. Diego didn’t entirely like the prospect of parking the Mustang in a destination reminiscent of Silent Hill, potentially leaving his car open to being stolen or possessed, but he didn’t so much as grumble as they pulled into the empty lot. It was a surprise that the space hadn’t been condemned along with the building attached to it; walled off, chained shut, or just blown into the soil leaving behind a massive crater. Before Diego could summon the brain power it required to question why Harper Rock had so many abandoned buildings, he felt the world tug away from him and remake itself. It was a strange sensation, like every atom in your body was split apart, travelled at the speed of light, and bolted together again in the new location. The pair went from sitting in the car to standing – actually standing – in the foyer of an apartment building. Diego didn’t recognise the place, not that he expected to, but it didn’t seem to be the kind of place you would find in a cordoned off area of the city.

There were actually people living here. Well, that’s what Diego understood from glancing around for all of two seconds. The small clusters of folk were busying themselves, reading, playing some kind of game on their smart devices, or leaving for the night; either way they were seemingly uninterested in the fact that two people had appeared as if from nowhere. For a moment, the Brazilian wondered whether every single person in the room had just magically missed their sudden arrival, but when Azraeth warned him to keep close, he started to suspect that no one batted an eyelash because they were used to this kind of thing. They didn’t look up because it was just another cloud passing by. It was at the point of realisation – when Azraeth couldn’t have put it any plainer that these people would consider him a tasty snack – that Diego felt the cold sweat of panic run down his back. He sidled up closer to the other man and tried to steady his heartbeat, knowing that if that nose could sense your purity, those ears could definitely hear your pounding pulse. Diego wasn’t sure how he felt about belonging to Azraeth exactly, but he could put his commitment issues aside for the sake of his life. Considering how he still felt a tiny bit fragile, there wasn’t really a lot he could do to stop himself from being eaten – probably couldn’t have even run from them. What he could do, however, was torment the hell out of Azraeth because he had the maturity of a thirteen year old.

“Does that make you responsible for my life then?” Diego finally asked, with mischievous strength returning to his voice and smile. “If I belong to you, that is. And I really can’t wait to test that theory, by the way.”

Green eyes moved off the man’s princely visage to once again survey the room, almost like Diego wouldn’t be able to keep a straight face if he continued to look at him. Inevitably, he would have to look back to Azraeth. The fact of the matter was that Diego just didn’t know what he was doing here. This was all Az’s idea after all, and while Diego hated the idea of being a wet flannel dragged out on an adventure he had no hope of fully appreciating or contributing to, he just didn’t know what else to do. Well, he could be a childish little ******** of course – that card was always on the table.

“But… what now?” Diego asked, looking back to him. “When do the roses and violinists arrive? Or are we supposed to go find them? I hope they haven’t been eaten,” he said in a flat albeit sardonic tone. “That would kinda suck.”

[Azraeth]

Living in Harper Rock was like being graded on a curve, when the rest of the class belonged to Mensa. Well. If you were in the know about vampires, and monsters, and the undead. It seemed like there was this false dichotomy. Either you wanted to propagate that seedy, dark underbelly, or you wanted to vanguish it. Of course, Az knew the truth. There were entire scores of people on either 'side' that just wanted to be left alone to live their lives. Or whatever. However, as long as that false reality existed. The cloak and the dagger. The world on top of another world. As long as there were people hiding in the shadows, and as long as people who lived in the daylight world remained oblivious, knowledge would be dangerous. Indeed. Being edible wasn't Diego's only problem by a long shot. A human who knew about them? That was a recipe for death in one flavor or another. "Yes it does." He answered. He knew Diego was being cute but the vampire's response lacked mirth. Not that he became immediately serious, his features just became a little more thoughtful. "You wouldn't want to play poker with me. I don't bluff." And there was the return of that characteristic smile.

From the corner of his eye, Az caught sight of a quickly approaching man. Bertram. He wore his favored taste in suits, which made him look like the Butler he was. They say a person's identity is largely crafted by appearance. How would someone know a person is 'goth' if not for black clothes and pale make up? Or a geek if not for glasses, pocket protector and other such identifying accoutrements? This theory held true when observing Bertram. He had a duffel bag tossed over one shoulder, and when he arrived, he placed it on the back of a large plush chair which the men stood near. He immediately began to remove rifle parts, so he could lock them into place. Having already been crafted, they were easy enough to take apart and then reassemble to save on space, and because they looked less conspicuous that way when in transit. "Diego, this is Bertram. Bertram, this is Diego." He said as he slid closer to the newly arrived human. He took one of the assault rifles as it was finished, so he could hand it off to his partner, only to sling the other over a shoulder with its leather strap. Next came the katanas. He didn't bother with the sheath, instead handing off the blade hilt-first. Then he took one for himself. "I hope nobody gave you any trouble, Bertram." He said.

The man was silent for a moment as he zipped the bag back up. "Not at all, Master Dragomir." Came the answer. "I've taken the liberty of filling a small cooler with blood packs. If you ask for it at the desk, under the name Enzo, it will be waiting for you."

"Thank you, Bertram. Now get back to Enzo before he realizes I borrowed you." Though permission had been given well in advance.

Bertram handed off the bag, which was still weighed down with some ammunition before he retreated from Corvidae. "Probably should have teleported him." Az murmured a second later. "Oh well!" And then his head cocked in the direction of the door. "There won't be violinists, I'm afraid. Think of this more like playing Resident Evil, only it's real, so no checkpoints, no saving, and no mistakes." He said before he leaned closer to the newly armed Diego, pressing a kiss right against his jaw, and then another quick peck over the very corner of a mouth. Of course. After everything was said and done, Az had every intention of dragging the footballer to his place so they could wash off the blood and grime in a bath. The very thought of it would have been distracting if not for the vampire's focus. He couldn't afford to lose track, or **** up.

"That was my brother's thrall, by the way. Think of a thrall as a human servant who has to obey the orders of their vampire master. It's a semi-mystical bond. That's why I want people to think you 'belong' to me. If they assume you're a thrall, you're less likely to get attacked on sight by other vampires. That being said, there are some vampires, called Telepaths, who could pretty easily confirm you are here of your own volition." Az found himself explaining more than he had originally intended. He wasn't really the type to go out of his way to teach. In fact, his normal tactic when it came to childer was to give them the tools and basics, and then toss them into the deep end. Of course, he was always available to talk and give advice, but rarely did he go out of his way to teach lessons. Maybe it was because he viewed Diego as more fragile than a dragon would have been. True enough. Immortality was immortality for his kind. Very little could permanently kill them when they were inside of Harper Rock. And the Quarantine Zone was essentially at the center of the rift.

"You can expect three types of enemies out here." He continued as he let one arm loop around one of Diego's, the same arm with his gun slung over it, which left his sword hand free in case he needed to make a quick move. "Zombies shouldn't be too difficult for you to kill. They are mindless, slow, weak. They basically just want to eat, so they'll come at you the moment you realize you're there. Feral Vampires are next. Think of them like zombies on steroids. They're faster, stronger, but not much smarter, so you should be able to take them on if you're careful." He commented, his footsteps falling in time with his lover's. "Last are mooncalfs. I don't know much about them except that they're usually made by really strong necromancers. They're like a bunch of corpses stuck together. Really slow. Like really. But they're strong as ****. Try not to get anywhere near them if you can help it or they will tear you apart. The good thing is they aren't very stealthy, so you should be able to keep your distance and hear them coming." He concluded. There were zombies out walking the streets of the Quarantine Zone.

The night was dark, and there was a little bit of fog which had come into existence when the warm day had flowed into the cold night. Az could hear them moving and rustling. He flashed Diego another grin as he used his weapon to point towards the abandoned supermarket. "This way. Oh yeah. Keep the ears. I use them for rituals."

[Diego Santos (DELETED 7309)]

As things progressed in an unexpected manner, the Brazilian held onto the suspicion that sometime in the evening he had passed out, gone to sleep, fallen into a coma, or had been transported to a different universe entirely because what was happening was just too bizarre to be real. No sooner had the two men arrived and cracked a few jokes, when a man dressed in a butler’s uniform had approached them like he was expecting them. Diego didn’t immediately know what to think, but he quickly realised that this wasn’t a costume party he’d wandered into judging solely by the stoic look on the man’s features – and the fact that he didn’t smell drunk. Following a nod of acknowledgement to the Vampire, the butler slung the stocky duffle bag from his shoulder and onto a nearby chair, then immediately set about unpacking heavy firearms from it. Diego couldn’t halt his body’s reaction, which was to leap back and immediately assess his surroundings. Not only was it important to him that other people were seeing this, but it was important that they weren’t seeing it too. For one, Diego needed to confirm that he wasn’t crazy, but, he also didn’t want anybody witnessing this so they would run screaming to call the police, and quite possibly, a SWAT team…

Green eyes watched with panic as nobody moved, didn’t even flinch; they carried on their various tasks as if programmed to do so, like NPCs in a video game. The Brazilian was too astounded by what was happening around him, by the total lack of concern or awareness of the people sitting even two feet away, to acknowledge the short conversation between the butler Bertram and Azraeth. That was, however, until something of considerable weight, length, and coldness was shoved into his hands. Probably the last thing he was expecting to find as he looked down was that Azraeth had shoved one of those firearms at him, and was subsequently offering him a katana. It took every bit of his willpower and his ego to convince himself not to drop the gun and embarrass them both. Again, Diego’s reaction was to blink in astonishment and stand there as if someone had walked away from the controller, leaving him on standby. He’d never fired a real gun in his life! What was he supposed to do with this, and couldn’t he at least practice first? Maybe they could start off with something a little less lethal, like a handgun, before graduating to a rifle or submachine gun. Seriously, the Brazilian could be clumsy at the best of times, so imagine what damage he could do with that monster of a weapon.

Before Diego could whisper a complaint, Az and Bertram had one final exchange before the butler was gone, walking nonchalantly out of the apartment complex as if the GTA V style drop hadn’t just occurred. The Brazilian just gawked at the Vampire – a look that didn’t wash free of his face even after Azraeth had unleashed a torrent of words on him. Ok, so, it wasn’t like Diego had actually expected to be taken out on a date with roses and violins and silly things like that, but, was he supposed to imagine that their night would end with them taking pot-shots at shuffling corpses after an explanation of the entire supernatural underworld was fed to him? With Azraeth’s comment that they were going to be playing a bit of Resident Evil tonight, only, with real guns and real zombies, and no chance of a Continue should **** happen, Diego sighed glumly. He really was more of a FIFA, Forza, and Call of Duty kind of guy. While those games could be stressful in their own right, at least they didn’t have jump scares or zombies or the stress of death looming so forcefully. And besides, those were games and Diego was not a Special Agent, Police Officer, or even a Soldier. He played football for heaven’s sake! Diego even looked awkward – ridiculous even – standing there holding that gun in his right hand, the sword in his left, like a game of Buckaroo! had gone horribly wrong…

“Az…” Diego whined, his voice a murmur as they exited the apartment complex arm-in-arm. Green eyes were alert, unstable, shifting left and right to every sound and despite the grip on his arm, he had to check that the Vampire was still there with him from time to time too. “Just… what am I supposed to do with these exactly?”

He hated the tone of his own voice in that instance, how pathetic and childish it sounded, reminding him of those times his brother had dragged him out of their home past curfew. Diego felt every bit like a kid again – weak, defenceless, and reliant on the other. The darkness swamped his vision, drenched things that were barren-white by daylight in a forlorn silver, and made everything else just disappear altogether. Darkness had a way of turning the known into the unknown, transforming things that a person liked or loved into things that were hated and maybe even feared. Diego wasn’t scared of the dark, not exactly, but he hated it for several reasons. It was darkness that allowed the mind to bravely tear through spider webs and wander into dusty rooms that sat in distant parts of the brain, places that people never dared to visit when the sun smiled down at them. It had always been night when Diego broke through the skin of sleep with thoughts of terrible things lingering in his soul – or questions about whether he had ever been granted one in the first place. He had even lost Matheus at night, in the darkness, and for every night after their parting, Diego felt the gloom ingrain its power deeper and deeper into him, intensifying this loathing he had for shadows.

“Aim, point, and click. Right?” Diego managed after a few moments of uncertainty. “That can’t be too difficult…”

The Brazilian was going to do everything in his power to escape that helpless feeling that was like a worm in his stomach. Provided he shot them down from a distance, he had nothing to really worry about. At least as far as video games were concerned, he was a decent shot. Years of training as a footballer had given him excellent hand-eye co-ordination, and he was physically fit enough for combat.,, or running away from combat at least. Diego hoped that it wouldn’t come down to him running away, his hands in the air, screaming, as a horde of zombies and Ferals and Mooncalves chased after him. Never mind the possibility that Az would laugh himself into a coma at Diego’s flailing, but, the man might probably lose all respect and admiration for the Brazilian.

[Azraeth]

The phrase 'fish out of water' was often used, but Az had never seen so fair a comparison as when he peered briefly to Diego while he was conversing with Bertram. The other man seemed just a little taken aback, but Az wasn't too worried about it. The monsters. The death. Those were as much a part of his world as the magic. Perhaps he could have sprung the whole thing on Diego just a little more gently, but what would that have done for him? People grew from having their expectations of reality challenged. Azraeth was the kind of person to toss someone into the deep end and see if they could handle it. That was just who he was. Like when Cordelia had picked a fight with Trahir. Az had been there. He could have done something about it if he'd desired. Instead, he'd taken a back seat to see how his childer handled a stressful situation. Sink or swim. Every day normal, human life was rough. Add in dead things, and. Well he had faith in Diego.

In fact, that was exactly what he thought when he heard the faint whine to a voice, attached to his name. He wanted to tell his lover that he was stronger that he knew. He wanted to tell the man that as long as they were together, Az would protect him, that he wasn't really in danger. He wanted to say for Diego to trust him, because Azraeth would sooner let himself be torn down than let it happen to the human. Hell. He'd died before. He could die again. He wanted to tell the man not to be afraid, because fear had no place between them.

Instead, he remained quiet, his head turning so he could peer into the other man's eyes. It was clear he was considering something behind those serpentine eyes, but as ever, the emotion there was difficult to decipher. Reptilian. "Yes." He finally said, when Diego continued, elaborating on how to use the gun. "The idea is to not have to use the katana unless you absolutely have to, so keep that at your side. Make sure to pay attention to your surroundings as much as possible." He continued. And then, his gaze straightened ahead, his head tipping enough for him to press his cheek very nearly against Diego's. "You've got this." He whispered as their footsteps carried them towards the abandoned supermarket. There were some stray zombies off in the distance. Az could hear them rustling around, dragging limbs, trying to get closer, but he didn't seem to concerned by them.

When they arrived at the entrance, he peered inside, to make sure the opening was clear, before he launched himself inside, sliding from beside the other man so he could scope ahead. "Stick close." He repeated from before, though this time it had less to do with the possibility of Diego being eaten by a vampire, and more to do with...being eaten by a zombie. He drew the scope of his rifle around, though he didn't have to look through it. Instead, his gaze swept the darkness. The place had been evacuated some five years before, and over time, had been all but picked clean. The floor was littered with trash. There were registers cracked open and abandoned. What little food had been left behind was past rotted. It looked like a hurricane had hit the place in some parts, and in others, there was merely a layer of dust that said a good polish might lead to a reopening.

"Check the walls for anything suspicious and then stick close to them. The less open area something has to come at you, the safer you are." He said in a loud whisper, even as he slowly, but surely made his way against a wall lined with 'last minute shopping' items, designed to be placed close to the registers so people would spend that little bit of extra money they hadn't originally planned to. His hand shot out and he plucked up a still packaged pez dispenser, stuffing it into his pocket almost without thinking. "You want to be sure you have a clear line of exit at all times. At first, this will mean you should keep your eyes on the entrance, staying in visible distance from it. Eventually, you'll develop something of a sixth sense and will be able to tell if a place is empty enough to explore deeper." He continued, his pupils constantly moving, darting around. That was probably the hardest part of hunting. It was like how rabbits seemed to know something was sneaking up on them even though a predator made no noise or anything. Az suspected it was related to how some people seemed to know they were being watched. Humans, as a species, did not naturally have cops, and homes and other safety measures. For millions of years, they had evolved in the forest and desert and jungle.

They had been forced to hunt for their food and had been prey at the same time. Humans had no tusks. No claws. No thick fur or skin. Had humans not developed the ability to use and refine tools, they probably would have been wiped out. However, there were instincts still there, buried underneath the social education. When those instincts meshed with the right set of skills and awareness, the human being proved how it had survived prior to modern conveniences. "If you see something, don't be afraid to pull the trigger. Some of them might look humanoid, but they lost their humanity a long time ago." He concluded, right as a sound caught his attention. He swung the barrel of his rifle around. There was a sound again. Something shambling towards them. It echoed in the supermarket and Az squeezed off a round before he even got visual confirmation. There was a sound like a snarl, only wet and grotesque, then the shuffling got faster, louder.

Seconds later, one of the undead came into view. Whatever it was, its leg was broken at the ankle and it was walking on the stump with a foot turned to one side. It was in rags which were dirty and crusted in blood. Half the face was gone, revealing dirty bone underneath. Az lifted his gun again and ended it with a bullet that made a head explode.

[Diego Santos (DELETED 7309)]

This is crazy. This is crazy.
This is ******* crazy.

Those words repeated in the Brazilian’s head no less than six times as they made their way into the abandoned supermarket. Approaching the door had been an interesting experience in itself because when Azraeth had slipped in ahead of him, Diego almost expected to hear that old-timey chime announce their arrival to the denizens within. Instead there was nothing, only the crunch of leaves, the scrape of garbage, and the squeaky scream of rusty hinges as footsteps made their way in. Undoubtedly because this was a nightly routine for the Vampire – or at least minor league **** – Azraeth led the charge and fired commands back at Diego like he was now their lucid squadron leader, and this was no longer a video game tutorial. Azraeth was very strict with his instructions, though generous enough to wrap them in an encouraging tone and go light on the mocking – or at least that was Diego’s opinion of it. Their brief exchange outside, where faces had brushed and kind words were spoken, had given the Brazilian some courage. He was still not overly pleased to be here, but, that was just the nerves talking. It was always the same whenever he was trying something for the first time.

There was always that voice in the back of Diego’s head telling him that if he backed out now, then at least he wouldn’t have to live with the embarrassment of failure. Fortunately, Diego had a counter-measure to these self-deprecating attacks. Not being satisfied with the logic that not trying meant not failing, he decided that giving up at all was a worse kind of failure. Even if it meant giving up his life or falling victim to a Zombie bite, curse, or infection, Diego had decided that he wasn’t going to back out. More than that, he was going to do his best, follow orders, and not look like a complete prat if he could help it. Following Azraeth’s advice about the katana, he decided to keep it close, but out of his grasp because he would need both hands to operate the rifle. Said katana was therefore slung over his shoulder and Diego did his best impersonation of a marine (and Azraeth because the Vampire seemed to know what he was doing with a firearm and Diego didn’t have a clue). The rifle’s stock pressed uncomfortably into the Brazilian’s shoulder and he was holding onto the rifle so tensely that he could feel his arms were starting to ache within minutes. Still, he pressed on without so much of a whisper of a complaint.

Inside the supermarket was inexplicably dark, the only light coming in through the door they had entered from as well as the walls of windows surrounding them. At one point, Diego could have imagined that these windows would have offered a great display to passing customers; fresh fruit, luxury goods, meats, fish, and cans – their prices being advertised on obnoxious red arrows hanging from the ceiling. Now, however, the windows were caked in inches of grime so no one could see in or out of the store – save for the ones that were broken. At least half of the hip to ceiling height windows had been busted open, and Diego saw a number of potential suspects littered along the floor inside even from his position. It would be a good idea to avoid falling over the boots and bricks lying haphazardly along the ground. Diego was being a good boy following Az’s rules like he was; keeping his back to a wall opposite the Vampire’s side, his line of sight just a turn away from viewing the door and another turn from peering into the expanse of aisles in the building. He was being very cautious, very aware of his surroundings, and very compliant. He was being such a good boy…

Before Diego even knew what was happening, however, their quiet instructional lesson about being aware of your surroundings because otherwise Zombies will eat you, became a lesson of show and tell. Be aware, Azraeth had said, and don’t hesitate to shoot at anything you see. Well, Diego hadn’t seen the shuffling corpse until after Azraeth had fired off a round, and even then he was questioning his own sanity. Green eyes watched in disbelief as the humanoid figure came around a wall and started to drag itself hurriedly toward them. Diego wasn’t even sure he could describe the being in front of him as being once Human because it looked more like a skeleton wearing a tattered coat of meat. Its face was barely intact as it was, and when it snarled at them, it did so through some kind of miracle. Its lips, nose, and cheeks appeared to be the first things to rot or disappear; the skin of its entire body was tight and mauled away, so it was difficult to make a distinct guess. Part of its right arm was missing, like something with massive jaws had taken a bite out of it, revealing a sharp stub at the end of its elbow. The skin on its legs was missing entirely from the knees, worn away as if it had been dragged over rocky terrain, so every time the creature took a step forward, Diego and Azraeth were treated to a view of its stringy muscles and tendons moving in sync.

How it even walked at all was a curiosity, what with one of its feet snapped and squashed beneath its own ankle, but perhaps the will to feed was something that surpassed death. Diego didn’t consciously know that he was comparing Vampirism to Zombies at that point, but it was certainly an educated guess. As a matter of fact, the only thing that Diego could be aware of was the howling scream in his ears as Azraeth fired off a second round. This time the bullet penetrated the Zombie’s skull, making it rupture violently and burst like a tomato in a microwave. Only, the contents weren’t that fresh, vibrant red colour you would expect from an exploding brain and/or a tomato. Instead, the contents of the Zombie’s head were this dark brown and greenish viscous fluid, and some strange lumps of what looked like shrimp meat. Diego watched in abstract horror as the vile liquid and the chunks spattered the nearby wall in a sharp arc and also sprayed into the room, bringing this God awful stench with it. Unfortunately, he couldn’t hold the rifle and his nose at the same time, so, a compromise had to be made. Given he was still feeling a little delicate after the near-miss of vomiting all over the sidewalk, Diego turned away from the smell in the room and pinched his nostrils closed with finger and thumb. It wasn’t until he’d turned away and took his hand off his weapon, however, that he realised that his actions were probably a mistake.

Stumbling toward them from the streets was yet another animated corpse. Supposedly it had heard the gunshots and was looking for food. It hadn’t noticed Diego or Azraeth just inside, a few meters away, and had forgotten how to identify doors and operate them, but it was still very intent on getting in. When it slammed its body up against the window right between the Brazilian and the Vampire, Diego jumped, pressed his back into the wall, and quickly returned his hand to the rifle. While his position was good enough to be a safe distance from the corpse and the window, it was still difficult to get a good view of where his target actually was. The light of the moon was all they really had, and as clouds passed over intermittently – sometimes in great swathes and sometimes in flittering pieces – it was difficult to determine a shadow from a physical form, especially as the Zombie waddled back and forth. Diego’s eyes were only now adjusting to the darkness, and since this wasn’t his natural environment, it was probably quite understandable that Diego was flapping like a chicken set down on a lake to play a duck. His rifle was aimed and ready, but, was it wise to shoot through the window? A better question: was he even able to pull that **** off in the first place? He was sure he’d heard something about guns having a ‘safety’ so maybe it was better if he walked over and chopped the Zombie’s head off instead.

“Should we be worried about that?” Diego asked, in a whisper, as he looked over for Azraeth. He’d seen far too many conflicting Zombie movies and television programmes to be sure what the reality was. “I mean, is it going to break in or will it get bored and just kinda… walk off?”

Apparently Diego had been quiet enough for the Zombie not to hear him, but its interest in the building hadn’t been lost entirely. After slamming its body into the window the first time, it had staggered back and began snarling to itself as if bewildered by the encounter. Now it hobbled left and right, inspecting the building like a dog would look for a place to **** its leg against. Diego was still stuck on the idea of quietly beheading it with the katana that Azraeth had loaned him, even if it meant getting up close and personal with a shuffling, chomping corpse. But if he didn’t have to bother with it, it was probably better to ignore the Zombie outside and focus on whatever was inside. The Brazilian had his doubts that playing truant in such a risky place was going to do him any good as far as his health and relationship with Azraeth was concerned, so he stayed put. Weirdly, the Brazilian was far more concerned by whatever Azraeth thought of him than the fact that he was surrounded by real-life Zombies, but, perhaps it wasn’t all that weird. If you face the fact that Vampires exist, you might as well leave the door open to any and all possibilities. Diego might not have been terrified for his life, but that didn’t mean he didn’t jump the second time when the Zombie decided to slam its whole weight at the side of the building again. This time, however, they heard the faintest sound of creaking glass.