Path of the Vampire forum

He should have checked the bags before leaving. But Stag didn’t expect anything to happen to them. It was just Kaelyn and him having access to them after all. And she seemed to have accepted his urgent request to cut down on unnecessary luggage. He had a duffel bag with his clothes – as always the practical, reliable outdoor type – and a case with equipment that he deemed useful for an expedition like this one – weapons, night vision goggles, machetes, and a small tent for a possible jungle trip and so on. The biggest piece of equipment was a small gsm station to fit on the boat. Just in case it didn’t have one. They had a search a huge area. Searching for the lost plane without any help would be like searching for a needle in a haystack – a haystack about as big as California. If they didn’t want to leave things to rather desperate odds, they’d have to be able to access all data traffic available in the area. Civilian as well as military. Stag would to what he could. Fortunately he had his laptop with him. He had installed a few rather useful scripts just before he packed the small computer into his bag. And even if they ended up without any satellite access at all, he had last had some high quality nautical maps of the search area. The most precise ones he was able to get.

Stagger Lee felt well prepared as they walked towards the docks, a grin of excitement on his face as he looked at his girlfriend. “Let me help you with your backpack”, he remarked, realizing that Kaelyn must have been absentminded and didn’t properly close the zipper. Quickly zipping up his girlfriend’s backpack, he already spotted a familiar figure waiting at the docks. Dominique! Was she joining them in the expedition? Recently he hadn’t talked to her as much as he used to, so he wasn’t sure. But the big black canvas bag she was carrying at least indicated she was going somewhere. “Howdy Mini!” he saluted her, tipping his Stetson hat. “On your way to a boating trip?” They had gone fishing together once, but that was almost two years ago.

Kenlie had stalled as long as she could. Several days restricted to a fishing boat on a choppy body of water -- with her estranged childe in law, mind you -- did not seem like her idea of fun. It had to be done, though. Doc and his Chain could be anywhere, lost in a ditch, or close to dead. Despite her many disagreements with her sire, she still cared about him. He was still Dad.

Staring at her open duffel bag, Ken sighed through her nose. Two streams of smoke escaped, billowing up into her face before she waved it away and put the cigarette out in an empty beer bottle. Maybe if she brought enough tequila, they could make something of it. As a secondary thought, she crossed the small hotel room to grab her Cards Against Humanity deck from the nightstand so it could join the clothes she had placed neatly in military rolls.

The place she'd been staying the past few months held a mysteriously rotten odor (of which she couldn't place an origin), and there were many a questionable stain in the faded art deco carpet - but it was the best her money could do. Without spending the club's money, anyway. It certainly helped that the location was promising in regards to the number of blood thieves she had interacted with. Maybe it was also its proximity to the slums, what with the cheap thrills that came with banking on a rivaling gang's stash. Or, just maybe, because it was unfamiliar. The stench, stains, and mold in this place didn't bring back the haunting and depressing memories of--

BANG

Ken had already forgotten that she didn't need to breathe before it occurred to her that the sound had likely come from someone's muffler. A pair of shaky, inked hands lowered from over her head to adjust the knife in her steel-toed boot, just in case.

She knew that she could always stay with Dom, but she wasn't ready for that just yet. There was a lot of **** to be worked out in her head; a lot of demons to face. Perhaps when they returned from this 'vacation'.

Maybe this is what you need, she thought.

Who the **** was she kidding? This **** was gonna drive her more mad. Without any luck, Kaelyn would land her in Doc's institution.

Hands still trembling, she zipped her bag shut, turned off the lights, and checked out. It took her a good minute to make it from one end of town to the other by transit after parking her motorcycle at Vita. There was no way in Hell she'd be leaving her baby in a hotel parking lot for some random thug to cart it away. As she walked up along the dock with her duffel bag on one shoulder, she realized she was just in time to appear fashionably (or annoyingly) late. Or was she? Upon taking one more glance around the group that had forned, she noticed something was amiss.

"Where's Boner?"

After getting under cover from sun, via digging a makeshift burrow under a falling tree in the dense undergrowth of the jungle, the man fell into a comatose like state. He didn’t dream, he didn’t even move. Waking many hours later, to find the sun’s last rays fading away, he expected to feel queasy or sore all over after the fight with the crazy *****. But remarkably, many of the wounds he had received from the broken glass were at an advanced state of healing. The neck wound was still there, but as he palpated it, he could tell it too had healed dramatically, compared to what it had been. He had no way of knowing for sure, but he guessed he had been out cold for several days.

The reality of his situation was lost on him. His amnesia was still present due to the blow to the head from the accident. He had no idea it was only a few hours later. Going by what he deemed to be realistic, it had to be several days later for that rate of healing to have taken place. He looked at his watch, the lens cracked and the hands were frozen in place. He gave the watch a baleful look as he undid the clasp and tossed it into the jungle. The small act alleviated some of the frustration he felt. Systematically he started checking his pockets for anything that might give him a hint of who he was.

The man found nothing of noteworthiness. Laying all the items he found in a line, he studied them all intently, hoping for a hint of recognition from them. But in the end, the only comfort he found from the small line of items was that he could name them. A handkerchief, a pen, a barely legible receipt for coffee and a token. He piled the items back into his jacket pocket; and as he did so, He had a thought. Removing the jacket he, he began to study it. The jacket had several rips and tears, mostly likely from the fight he has with the Psycho Chick, but apart from that he could tell the fabric was fine and high quality.

The man’s gaze fell to his hands. Turning his hands over, this way and that, he wore several rings. All of them old. They were not what he would consider fashionable, so they would have to have another meaning if he wore them. The gaze moved from his hands to his wrist, a bracelet. This too was old. It didn’t make sense. Why would he have and wear old jewelry? He could tell they were not made of gold or silver, so they weren’t of much monetary value. Was it a symbolic gesture? To remind him of his history? If so, it was not ******* working. Raking a hand through his hair, broken pieces of fiberglass and other material came away with his hand.

Studying the bits of debris only told the man, that he may have been near a construction zone possibly. He glanced at the suit jacket. Expensive, nice material, well made.. That is, until that psycho ***** went off on him.. But maybe he was an architect? That would put him in construction areas right? He ran his hand through his hair again. This time there were tiny bits of insulation in his hand. He had a memory flash of sterile room, heavily taped with plastic sheeting to keep the blown insulation from damaging the equipment while repairs were being made. It was a brief flash, But the man grinned. Blown insulation. He was a ******* architect.

The man felt rejuvenated, except for the headache and the sliced throat. That fact, the rejuvenation feeling, troubled him. He was in the midst of a thick tropical jungle. He remembered the heat of the day from days before. But he wasn’t even sweating. He didn’t have the first bug bite. It was like he was special. He even felt cold to the touch. That actually made him concerned. Was this not a precursor to heat stroke? The feelling cold when you should be warm?

As the man made his way through the jungle, more and more microsecond flashes of memories bombarded him. The face of the female left in a bloody mess, played a prominent role in the flashes. It didn’t make sense. She attacked him. He was defending himself. If she knew him, why would she ******* attack him? As the hours of darkness passed, and he continued to trek toward and for civilization, the more he tried to remember, the more his head ached. Finally, he gave up trying to remember. He read the stars heading for the city he knew was there. How he knew it, he didn’t know. And didn’t care. He only knew he needed to get to the city.

In reality the man was only a few scant miles from the city. He was trekking in a parallel manner from the city. If he continued his current course, he would head into the deeper aspects of the jungle. But moving through a jungle wasn’t an fast moving experience; especially when the person was wounded. And as the night sky gave way to the faint rays of the sun, the man, once more felt the intense urge to burrow into the earth for rest. Again, he didn’t know why he knew to do this. He just did it.

----

As the daylight hours passed, once more the man fell into a catatonic state. No movement, no dreaming, nothing. The only stirring began to occur as the sun once more set. Opening his mouth to yawn, he was startled by the dirt that was inhaled. Abruptly sent into full awake mode, Doc burst out into the opening. “What the ****?!”

Getting his feet, he immediately took a defensive yet aggressive stance for whoever or whatever was ready to attack him. His hand instinctively moving for the automatic weapon he typically wore in a shoulder holster. It wasn’t there. Carefully looking around him, doing a full three sixty degree turn, Doc found himself in the middle of a jungle.

There was no one there to attack him. No one shooting at him. Nothing lurking in the darkness. Still highly wary, Doc started absently brushing the dirt out of his hair, and off his clothes. The last thing he remembered was… the plane went down. He looking for Cytherea. He stopped.

His movements froze in place. Cytherea.

The second he thought of her, the memory of him staking her, came back to him. The full memory of their fight was foremost in his mind. He moved to feel his throat, the almost healed wound was there. It hadn’t been a dream. He had tried to kill her. ****! Raking both hands through his hair, then linking his fingers together behind his head, Doc began to recall the events of the last few days. There was a plane crash, he tried to kill Cytherea.. And then he left her to die, but she hadn’t been dead.

He was wracked with indecision. Go back? Go call the spawns, have them send the plane? No. There was no question. He had to go back. She would be furious with him, and he deserved it… but this time.. He has a legitimate excuse, that perhaps.. In fifty years or so .. she might understand. Knowing that he probably should reserve his energy, he ignored it. He needed to get to Cytherea before anyone else did, or.. He grimaced, she died. Burning celerity, he was back on the beach, in no time. There was a row of huts just off the coast.

“****..” Doc didn’t remember which hut had been the one that they had used. Wading out into the water, he swam to the closest one. Methodically, hut by hut, he used uninvited guest to search them. It was when he reached the fourth hut, he knew he had found it. This one still showed the signs of their fight. The overturned furnishings and the broken glass. But most ominous of all, was the pile of ash in the floor where his memories said was the last point he remembered seeing Cytherea.

Sinking to his knees, Doc stared at the ash. How long had she lain there before she died? Did she wait for him to came back for her? Did she try to call him? Did she realize he didn’t know who she was? That he was acting in defense? That he wouldn’t have attacked her, if she had just left him alone? Why did she have to fight him all the ******* time?! Why couldn't she wait, watch, and learn, before reacting like a banshee?! Recriminations aside the fact remained, Cytherea had died alone, in a foreign country, away from everyone who cared about her and it was his fault.

----

It was several hours later that Doc got out of the taxi at the hotel by the airport. Doc had liberated a few wallets and a change of clothes while he was checking out the huts for Cytherea. After booking into a room for the next few days, he used a stolen cell phone to call the travel agency and arrange to have a charter flight come get him. Forty-eight hours later, the charter flight touched down in Harper Rock.

Doc tried to make a few calls, but no one was picking up. They are were all going to voicemail. **** my life. He ended up texting.

*text* Where the **** is everyone?

Cytherea hadn't moved, not an inch, not even a peep had passed her lips from the second Doc had drove the stake into her chest. Minutes morphed into hours, and the tears of pain had switched to that of anguish; he'd tried to kill her, legitimately kill her. Sobbing made the pain in her chest flare, but she could not be deterred from letting her sorrow be known. How could he have done that? Even her actions hadn't be that.. savage. Fear had never been an emotion she associated with her husband, not even when she had learned of his true nature, nor what he had done to Dominque. But here she lay, and the only thing that pulsed through her veins beside the blood, was the fear; what if he came back? What if he wanted to end her, once he realised he hadn't done it initially.

Think, her brain demanded. She could not lay here, vulnerable, and already half dead. One more blow like that, and he could truly end her, and at this moment, she had no stamina or strength to properly defend herself. The bleeding had ceased, but the pain only intensified as he body naturally tried to close the wound, it would be present for at least a week, perhaps longer. Cythera's head tilted to the side, her golden irises locking on the fire place that had miraculously gone unharmed, and then they spotted something else; ashes. The maids clearly hadn't cleaned up properly, for there lay a pile of charred ashes, and a serious of scenarios played before her mind.

If Doc came back and seen the ashes, a few things could occur; 1, he would think he had killed her, and if that was his true intention, he would be sated and no longer look for her. 2, he's insane, lost his memory, and won't know what the **** a pile of ashes is doing there. 3, he would think he killed her, and feel slightly bad, considering he has the emotional range of a lettuce.

And that was how an injured female faked her own death; the ashes lay in the place where her bloody had been seeping into the floor, mimicking what should be a body. And with that she left, taking her time as her body ached and pleaded to lay in a bed and rest for the next week, but this would not be allowed until she was far away, and safe from Doc. It took some time, and a lot of effort before Cytherea stumbled upon a hut that was much further way; she was cranky, in pain, and emotionally ready to explode, if the person within didn't respond to her in the right manner, well, things wouldn't be ending well for someone else this night.

A delicate knock roused the occupant from within, a male, tall, handsome, what you would expect from a tycoon who was visiting these islands for a brief get away from the tortures of work. It was instantaneous, the look in his eyes as he noticed the gaping hole in her chest, but he wouldn't make a sound as her hand pressed into his bare chest, and she performed the trick she'd used many times now, enthralling the poor male. ''I need to stay here for a while,'' she breathed out, not bothering to wait if he agreed, for she knew he had little choice. Waltzing into the bigger, and much more fashionably decorated room, Cytherea ordered the male to leave, find her some clothes, and food.

Once he was gone, she went to the bed, and she fell forward, finally let the band on her emotions break as she sobbed into the sheets, her heart feeling as if it was about to burst forth from her chest. How could he have done that to her? Anger quickly followed the heart ache, her fists clenching the sheets so tightly that they tore, and then it wasn't long before self loathing settled in; had it been something she'd done? Had he finally tired of her? And not wanting a messy divorce, figured killing her was better? Round and round they went, repeating the process, until she was drained, physically and emotionally. Doc would be sorry, right? Of course he would, I mean, he cared about her.. with those final thoughts, she drifted off to sleep.
'Where are you?' It roused her from sleep, the voice making her panic and reach for the weapon she normally slept with, that was probably 10,000 leagues under the sea. Doc. Was he here? After a moment of pure unadulterated fear coursing through her body, Cyth summarized that he had sent her the message telepathically. Which meant that he was returned to normal. Had he returned to the hut though? Had he seen the result of his anger?

Silence.

There would be no reply, not until she was fully healed, and not until she felt like he had suffered enough. It was only fair, after all, here she lay in bed, practically crippled and relying on the help of someone else, whom she had to control. What a great husband she had.

Hours kept passing, and the message kept coming. 'Cytherea, stop ******* around.' 'Not ******* funny, where are you?' '**** it all Chain .. ANSWER ME.' That last one had almost made her reply, the desperation was evident in his voice, he'd seen the ashes, and didn't want it to be true, that he'd killed his own wife. Was that because he felt remorse? Or because he was worried what the others would say? Would he even miss her if it was true? An undignified snort came from the female as she stubbornly settled back into the cushions. Let him have to face the music, let them all see that she was not the crazy one, that he was.

'Listen wench.. I have chartered a plane.. I am not waiting anymore..' It took willpower that she didn't even know she possessed not to reply, not to scream into his head that he was an asshole, and how dare he call her wench after what he had just done. But she remained quiet. He wouldn't get a response. Not yet anyways.
The week was drawing to a close, the wound at her chest was almost completely healed. And in that time, the betrayal that she felt hadn't lessened, no, it had intensified. The one person whom she was meant to trust her life with, had tried to snub it out. If he thought he was gonna smooth this one over easily, he was in for a ******* shock. Cytherea had used her new thrall to book a flight, one of his private jets, which meant she would be able to get on board virtually undetected. The time in his hut had been spent resting, healing, enjoying the parts of the day that she could. Ignoring the searing need to throttle her husband into next week. And when it had been time to leave, she had put on her old clothes, ignoring the hole in the top, and the torn parts of the dresses skirt Maybe it would make him feel worse, seeing the blood that stained the clothes, and add to the believable factor that she'd just returned from wherever like this.

Much time later, she was home again, the familiar breeze of Harper Rock greeting her face, and the usual stares of the humans. They probably knew, it was all over the news anyways. But she paid no mind as she walked through the streets, trying to avoid as many people as possible, for now, she was going to where she could feel Doc. It was time they had a talk.

Cathy Dawn: Cathy had been worried about her dad since she learned he was missing then to get a missed call and a text from him she about jumped out of her seat at work. She had been working to keep her mind from going crazy with worry because Doc was the only one she knew of as dad. She sent a text back to him fast * I am in town Dom, Ken, Ric, Kay, and two others went to look for you and Not the Dad. Where the Hell are you? You had me worried sick.*

Doc: Doc finally got a reply to his text. Finally. He read it. He grimaced. Then he frowned. ****. He texted her back, *text* I am back in town at the lab. It's been a rough few days. *He hit send and told himself he could not drop the bombshell about the Chain over a text. No way. That was not going to happen.

Cathy Dawn: Cathy got the text and was out of her office and out the door "Zeek take care of the place I will be gone for the rest of the night." Her waiter nodded his head as she was out the front door of the Diner and then out of the mall. She shot a text to her dad *text* Will be there in a few. She hit send before hopping in her car she drove to the lab to find her dad and give him a hug. She made sure to keep to the lights as she drove.

Doc: Doc dreaded what was coming. He was going to have to admit the Chain was dead. It still didn't feel real. But feeling of finality seemed to sink as the plane had gotten closer to Harper Rock. Not only was she dead.. but dead by his hand. Doc stood up from his desk, and moved to the sideboard where a decanter stood. He never drank to forget, but he needed to do something, and the act of drinking and forcing himself to keep it down, would hopefully take his mind off what was coming.

Cathy Dawn: Cathy parked the car in the lot and got out locking the door. She walked in and looked around then walked towards her dads office. As soon as she was into the room she saw him and tears were in her eyes. He was safe and he was home. She did not know how he got back but he was home. She did not see the bottle at first but ran to him and jumped on him giving him a great big hug. She would not let go and also did not know her own strength.

Doc: Doc was grabbed in a tight choking hug, causing him to set the glass down. He returned her hug, and just held her for a few minutes, before he finally, thought gently pried her off him. He didn't need to breathe, but the choking feeling was a bit much. He tried to smile at her, as if to assuage her worries about him. "I'm fine.." The smile was clearly forced and going to fool anyone. "No vacations for a while.. I promise."

Cathy Dawn: Cathy shook her head "No no more vacation for you or for Not the Dad if she makes it back. I have not heard from Dom since they left so they must not have found you. They left when they found out your plan went down." She then slapped his arm hard "You do that again I will Freak worse than I did this time." She had freaked and that was not good for one with her curses and he should know that.

Doc: Doc paused at her comment about the Chain. She already know the Chain wasn't back. Alright. Good. That was a conversation he didn't have to tell her. Especially since Cytherea was dead because of him. Or Rather.. he killed her. He didn't know how she knew.. or she knew... but he didn't care. "Yes.. you can rest easy.. I am not going anywhere any time remotely soon." He picked up his drink and tossed back the contents and refilled it. He had to change subject. "So tell me.. how the **** did the masquerade fall?"

Cathy Dawn: Cathy looked at the glass and then at her dad before raising her hands at the question. "That is something I am not sure about because I stayed busy in the Diner to keep my mind from going crazy worrying over you being lost out there. I think the Government found out about us and then everyone else found out as well. My customers do not know I am one though so that is good. I keep what I am secret so no one can harm me."