(Chapter 9) Who cares? (invitation only)

[Zodiac]

The sound was unmistakable. Like a low harp string suddenly plucked followed by a soft sound of something rushing through the air. Next came the noise of something embedding itself into the layers of the waiting target across the room, only to be followed with a war cry of success from the would be archer.

“Very good!” Applauds was heard as the red haired woman approached her customer. The look on the man’s face was unmistakable. He was hooked and now all that was required was to reel him in. There was so much more she should inform her potential sale about this situation. First and foremost the idea that the intended target would stand still was a pipe dream, let alone said target could move in the blink of an eye or what the potential prey could do to the archer once it got its hands on them. Every disclaimer she had a customer sign before buying stated these facts and more and how the Pandora Project would not be held liable if any customer actually decided that hunting a would be vampire would be a pretty good thing to do after a few beers with a cross bow, so covering the company *** was imperative.

The wooden bolts carved from Ash, Hawthorn, and other woods that (supposedly) held natural blessings and powers against the undead were meant to be a novelty. Something to go along with the reproductions of Vampire Slayer’s ‘Kits’ they had mass produced for gag gifts. If anyone bought one of these and actually expected results only proved how in error their minds actually worked.

As the woman laid praise on the customer and began to discuss the details of purchasing the bolts, the owner of the establishment leaned against the far wall and watched. When the client looked in her direction, she gave a smile and thumbs up in reply before exiting the makeshift test range they had set up. Bolt sales were progressing nicely along with a resurgent interest in the slayer kits. “Always keep an eye on current events and make sure your stock will always cater to the current needs” was a rule that had yet to fail the girl.

Of course she was playing on the ignorance of her customers in the process. At least in the slayer kit came a discount coupon that gave the customer a break on purchasing the gun (and actual silver bullets) to complete it. The gun would actually be a practical item to have in these times. How effective the silver bullets would be was another matter for debate, but the bolts were an stroke of inspiration on her part. Let people feel like they were Van Helsing ready to defend their homes from the plague of vampires that were rampaging about or something like that.

And if, by the wildest chance, one of her fellow night feeders managed to find themselves with a cross bow bolt lodged in one of their *** cheeks, it might wake them up to how serious things have become now. People were afraid enough to quit being afraid and willing to take drastic actions to feel safe again. Within the space of just over 10-12 years things had gone from sleepy safe little town to potential apocalyptic war zone. People were afraid. They had a right to be afraid. Hell, she was one of those the living were afraid of and she was afraid.

So many kept taking about what should be done to solve this, but no one was coming up with any practical ideas. 'We all know there is a problem, so who is going to solve it' is basically what those meetings were coming to in decisions. As the gypsy saw it, there was no single magic answer to make it all be better. It would require multiple efforts on different fronts done in unison to begin and swing things backwards to a more sedate state of existence. It would require the cooperation of their kind and once the goal was reached, many of them would have to change their ways and attitudes to keep things in place. How many times had she warned others this could happen and how many times others laughed in her face in reply? She was tired of it all. Tired of trying and the laughter.

Cooperation? Attitude changes? Consistency? Vampires?

’And while I am at it, I’d like a Flaming Unicorn Zamboni for Christmas, Santa.’ she sighed. It may work for a time but anything long term was doomed to fall apart because of vampire nature. When the majority of your kind consider the living nothing more than livestock to feast upon, the idea of actually talking to the cows to get feedback is sheer madness, but the ‘cows’ were not as mindless as most thought. The girl wondered how outraged some of her fellow night feeders were at the idea that humanity was fighting back. The image of a cheeseburger jumping off the plate into a person’s face came to mind but it failed to amuse her. Zodiac wondered a lot about things like that. What if a nuclear strike came (thanks to the ‘cows’), would the authorities actually let the public know it was happening. She doubted it. Vampires could find a way to bolt from the town far faster than people could, so the purpose of the bomb would be null and void. Bottom line was the ‘animals’ could fight back in ways the night children could not. Could they be faulted for wishing to survive? And how would her own kind react if something bigger, more aggressive than vampires were, showed up and treated vamps like fast food?

What could she do?

There was really nothing else she could do for now unless some things changed, except what she was good at.

Turning a profit.

Let the ones who laughed at her warnings figure this out.

For a change.



[for_harmony][/for_harmony] [no_confidence][/no_confidence]

[Zodiac]

[no_confidence][/no_confidence]

Being what she was (before and after her turning) she had never stepped into any kind of voting facility. She was never in one place long enough to establish residency when alive and now she cared even less, but this did not stop her from following the clowns in power as they played their games. Always reading and watching. An exercise in critical thinking she had learned in the past that had yet to let her down in such matters.

“What they are telling you vs what they are NOT telling you. Is this really news or a distraction for the masses while the Gov types slip something into place no one will like?”

Vampirism had put Harper Rock on the political map in the world’s eye. Everyone had an opinion. Everyone had assholes as well, and they all just kept spewing excrement out by the gallon. As she continued to compose a text on her phone, she listened to the ‘talking heads’ on the TV go on and on about the ‘vampire problem’.

That part did not concern her much. Ideas, theories and idiocy all had their place in everything. Her focus was on who was talking more so that what they were talking about. Everyone from the Prime Minister down had something to say. She wondered for a moment what the Queen thought about all of this. (Probably not amused was her best guess) Nothing had come from the ‘Royal mouth’ on the matter, but oddly enough, there was another mouth that remained silent. What stuck out the most about that particular mouth was the fact it should have been the one mouth screaming the loudest of all of them.

Bancroft.

Their invisible mayor. Outside of a glimpse at one of his Christmas parties and the occasion picture in the papers (or a sound byte for television) she had never seen the man for any length of time adding up to more than a minute, but the rumors about him were almost legion. When the election that put him into office played out, she kept herself and her businesses politically neutral. Politics and Spirituality literally could not co-exist in the same room for very long and she had no desires to have people debating things that could lead to a extreme chaotic state in her establishments (save for the Teahouse and a couple times during the lead up to the vote police had to be called to clear the place. So much for a Zen atmosphere.). She never told any client how or who to vote for but advised them to learn the facts, meditate, and vote their heart and conscious. She honestly didn’t think Bancroft would get in and if she had voted he would not have been her choice because of the rumor that has never been resolved.

He was a thrall. A nasty rumor she picked up on. The idea of some vampire’s little ***** boy running the show may have sounded pleasing to her kind, but she wondered if anyone found an answer to the real question. Whose ***** was he? That kind of power strings being pulled by the wrong hands was indeed a matter for concern. If the current events said anything, it proved that Bancroft’s master/mistress didn’t give a damn about anything beyond personal gain. It took cries from citizens groups to get anything started when it came to law and order in this place and some of them were forced upon the local government by higher authorities..

Why would he not speak out on the subject?

It was a concern, to say the least. His basic silence on most things since taking office until now said volumes. His ‘owner’ had him on a short leash and forbid him to vocalize was the only conclusion she could assume in this game. Too busy making deals with ‘spider people’ and others she would guess (there were rumors of things of that nature as well). Even if he was not a thrall, he was doing nothing to defuse this bomb the town had become. What was he doing outside of getting BJ’s from his assistants?

She regretted now not trying to be more politically active. It would have allowed her to have more in roads into the system. Sometimes the least of their numbers could impart the best clues to follow in passing, but sadly she had none to talk with. Jennifer was having zero luck talking with others within Canada’s idea of a Chamber of Commerce. Either they knew nothing or was not talking at all.

She did a final edit and nodded in satisfaction as she hit send. It would go to all the living contacts on her list. Clients, customers, friends and people of interest.

The owner of Pandora’s Box
Would like to urge all voters to demand
A lack of confidence vote be taken against
Mayor Bancroft.

We need leadership-
Not cowardice!
He needs to be gone.
Now.

The safe, human friendly message went out. She’d compose the other message for later. One more for her own ‘kind’. A second after, her phone chimed.

Zo, I know it was your bright idea to sell arrows to people. You ever think how many paladins are buying them up?

She made a face at the text. Perhaps they had a point. If this was an actual war, she could be arrested as a war profiteer. Worse, she supplied arms to both sides. Silver bullets and other (supposed) anti vampire gear to the living while supplying items and ritual support to her own kind. Living or not so living-their money was the same color.

She stood up and stretched as it occurred to her how much of a cynic she had turned into over the last 10 years. Before becoming this she was cynical of a few things (such as fairness of the courts and other things of that nature) but now it was all consuming within her. Her smiles often felt forced nowadays and she was always biting her mental tongue in most conversations she had. Even in doing her charitable works, a bitter streak filled her mind how pointless it all was becoming. Everyone needing something but precious few actually trying to do anything about it beyond sticking their hand out. And by the slim chance someone does they will find themselves alone and when they fail, they would become the scapegoat for all their woes.

Scapegoat. Oh yes. Removing Bancroft would simply be an act of chasing off the goat after the garden was destroyed. Everything would be his fault but the one (or ones) behind his actions would float away scot free with their pockets stuffed and a new plot already in motion. He was only a small part of the problem in total. Attacking Bancroft was a skirmish compared to the all out nuclear exchange that would be involved with dealing with Theodosia and the mess those idiots started by letting her loose.

(TBC)

[Zodiac]

[no_confidence][/no_confidence]

She sat in the ruined house peeking out through a hole in the wall. The troops had made several sweeps of the area prior, so it was safe to rest here for a few moments. Traveling at night had become a dangerous game now. Precious few people were left Someone wised up outside of this town and began evacuating people who passed the tests to holding centers (to be sure) so anyone seen out at night had a 95% chance of being a vampire or other enhanced individual.

All of them were fair game now. In that, she took some satisfaction. Some of the others were trapped here by their own compulsions or needs. Paladins had to seek their prey while blood thieves needed that fix. The others? She couldn’t say. Ironic, she was back to feeding on rats and other animals to stay alive now. How proud she had been to rise up past such an indignity, but lack of food made for desperate measures.

An explosion in the distance caught her attention. Her eyes turned to the North and saw the rising cloud against the night sky. They were at it again in Oldtown. Systematically blowing up the crypts. It made sense in her mind. Begin to eliminate hiding places. Even the sewers were not a safe place anymore and she had already heard rumor of a large scale effort being planned to raid the larger buildings soon. Floor by floor, just flush them out.

Where do rats run when there is no place left to hide?

In the daylight hours she herself hid in the woods in her animal form. Even that was not fool proof depending on what someone could turn into. Deer, elk, moose, wolf and some birds were common to the area, so the vampire whose shape could turn into one of those would be marked only by their behavior. Others, with more elaborate forms would stand out like a big red flag. She was glad it was winter, personally. Her Snow Owl form had plenty of real ones to keep her company around here-for now.

Another explosion, and this time the excited shouts of troops. Someone was home and gotten flushed out. She closed her eyes and whispered a small prayer as the sounds of gunfire echoed in the night. In a way it was pointless. A week, tops, in the Nexus and they would return, but by then they would come back to a land with little prey to revive themselves upon. If any kind of ID was found on them, it was checked out. Resources, accounts and any thing of value and use would be impounded or destroyed. No cash to work with, no bolt holes to hide in, and few-if any-allies to help. It was a vamp eat vamp world now (not literally, yet) and help only showed its face if there was something to gain in the process.

She had searched for those she had feelings for with little results. It was a short, yet painful list to consider. They were either in the Nexus, deep hiding, or taken elsewhere. Capture was possible if done right. It depended if they thought the vampire was worth the effort. She had witnessed a few of those encounters and the outcomes were never pretty.

Lights flashed into building causing her to shrink back into the shadows. Either the one that was flushed out was in the area or a surprise patrol was on the move. The moment of peace was gone again.

****

Her eyes opened. A hand lifted from the water and touched the switch that send a soft light to show here the inside of the deprivation unit she owned. Dreams again. Normally she had nothing against dreaming, but apocalyptic visions of possible futures were never welcome. Once she exited the tank and dried off, she recorded her visions in her dream journal. She would need a new one soon. Dreams were happening more often. She slept at times in the tank to block out unwanted telepathic contacts but it was no protection against dreams.

’At least I didn’t have Theo drift in or pull me into hers again,’ she thought. It had happened a couple times in the past and the idea that her mind and the mystic’s crossed paths occasionally in the daytime was not a comforting one. Granted, they clarified and confirmed some bits of the mega vampire’s past and history but they offered no real insight into the entity or clues how they might be stopped. It frustrated her. What worried her was time she found Theo being a guest star in one of her own dreams. Outside of getting directly in the vampire’s face and demanding answers (’Good luck with that,’) everyone was just guessing.

She checked her phone. Several of the mortals she sent her message to had replied with the majority of them agreeing with her on the subject of Bancroft. That was something at least. She still had to finish her composition for others like her soon. Idly she flipped through news and messages as she sat in near darkness.

(tbc)