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A farewell to Rex and Verity, then Nolan was out the door and on his way to one of the oddest places for him to be. The local Gas station for something that would probably seem dumb or foolish to anyone else, but for him it was a worthwhile trip. Steps slow, with no hurry to them; he strolled through the city and took in the nightlife that one could only find here in Harper Rock. Certainly, there were places like New York City, or Vegas that would claim to have the best night activity around, but did they have vampires?

Did they have the undead out amongst the people? Most of them blended in so well that other vampires did not spot one another as they passed, not right off. Harper was like a large zoo, or a nature reserve, with the predator and prey animals intermingling with one another. Dark clouds overhead looked nasty and were the main reason why he had persuaded Verity to remain home while he made the trek alone to the Gas Station. Certainly, the company would have been welcomed, but if whatever was brewing overhead turned out to be as nasty as he thought, it was best that she stayed somewhere safe. At least, he hoped that was the case, as of yet they had been unable to completely keep her safe. Even in their own apartment, someone always managed to get into the place and even with Rex being there; it was more often than not her ending up being fed upon. More than once he would have to come find her in some part of the city, dazed and confused.

The ground beneath his feet trembled, which made him frown and the wind picked up even more, the thought to turn back was there, but the Gas Station was so close and if he turned back now he would have wasted time and effort for nothing. Gritting his teeth and leaning against the wind, he managed to reach the Gas Station just as some others had managed to get there too. From within the “safety” of the station Nolan watched as the city erupted into chaos and the world seemed to try and destroy Harper with a natural disaster the likes of which was more along the lines of an apocalypse than just a standard storm.

The lights overhead flickered and just managed to stay on, but the ground had begun to shake more and by some odd string of luck the station withstood the event, while he watched other buildings fall to pieces and cave in. The Rain poured down from the sky in buckets and it was literal chaos in the streets beyond the walls of the Gas Station. A try at his phone gifted him with only a standard automated recording about there being trouble on the lines. The sun would be up soon and with the city in such a state he wanted nothing more than to get back to Verity and make sure she was all right. Yet, with how things were outside he was likely to get severely injured or worst if he tried to hurry home. The stations were probably down which meant a long walk home.

He couldn't remember the last time there had been a storm in Harper Rock. Yeah, it always snowed once winter rolled into town. And yeah, he was used to below zero weather come winter time. But to his knowledge, he couldn't remember the last time there had been a snowstorm. The weather channel was having a field day talking about it. He couldn't help but to assume they were just blowing things out of proportion. Why? Because it was the news and it was the news' job to blow things out of proportion. To get everyone all riled up and out into the stores to spend money they didn't have on stuff they didn't need. Still, a storm was a storm no matter how mild or how severe it could end up being.

Which was why he was in the gas station. His head was cocked to side, using his right shoulder to keep his cell phone close to his ear. His arms cradled the multiple snacks as he paced through the aisles.

"Milo," he groaned, "What do you want? What the **** do -you- want?"

Since the news was calling it a storm, businesses were going to be close the next day. Luckily, that meant he could spend the night at Milo's place. Though even if there wasn't a storm, he'd probably go crash at the Spanish man's place anyway. He would have chilled out there until Milo had returned home from work. But this storm was a gift. They could **** like rabbits without the worry of having to stop long enough for the other to get rest before the work day. Because Ishaq was a nice guy, he decided to be the one to get the snacks. It gave Milo plenty of time to get the place in order. They were "camping" out in the living room.

"I fuckin' swear, Milo, yo- No, they don't have the fuckin' candy you want. No...No!" He shouted into the phone, clearly not giving a **** who was around him. "No, I'm not going to the grocery store! Clearly, you've forgotten there's a storm coming."

The vampire rolled his eyes. Why did humans have to be so complicated?

He made his way toward the beverages, looking at them. "Do you want beer?"

He stood there, looking at the different beers and other alcoholic beverages. He saw them tremble. He blinked for a moment then squinted. Did they really just move? The lights flickered above him; he chalked it up to a shitty lighting system.

He heard Milo make a sound of surprise, followed by a "What the **** was that?"

But before he could respond back to the other man on the phone, he felt the floor below him erupt violently. His body was caught off guard and he found himself on the floor. The snacks were ejected from his grasp immediately upon impact. The shelves shook and he could hear various items falling onto the grungy tile floor.

Splats.

Thuds.

Clunks.

All the while, it sounded like gun shots were being fired down onto the roof. He heard various cars colliding into each other and into buildings in the distance.

Ishaq covered his head with his arms, squeezing his eyes closed.

He prayed to Jesus. He prayed to Allah. He prayed just to pray.

Finally, it stopped. It just stopped.

The vampire lifted his head and glanced around his immediate area. **** was trashed. Much to his surprise, the lights were still on. But the minute he acknowledge that simple miracle, the gas station went dark.

"****...."

He slowly pushed himself to his knees.

Holy ****. Milo.

Ishaq frantically searched for his phone, scrambling to his feet. It had slid north of him. He swiped it up and shouted into it.

"Milo? Milo? Milo!" He pulled the phone away from him. The call had ended. He tried to call. Instead he got some stupid message about the lines being down. He kept trying to call Milo. Then he tried Jesse. Then Kaelyn.

Nothing though. Absolutely nothing.

He rubbed his face, turning to look outside. Apocalypse.

It looked like the Apocalypse had happened.

This was a typical night for the tall Russian man. The heavy leather drape of his trench coat fell to his calves in an impeccable wave of professionally kept material. His rifle, the trusty Dragunov that he had smuggled into Canada when he had arrived on the pursuit of the woman, now his wife, rested easily across his back. The weapon was carried openly, and, if he was ever asked about the firearm, it was his weapon of choice when he used the wilds North of town to hunt for bear.

In reality, it was his own brand of defense. He never fired the weapon without cause, and he rarely missed. To say he never missed would have been a lie. It would have been a lie of anyone, and that was the bald face of it. This portion of his evening, however, the weapon was almost forgotten, and the least of his legal problems as his hand reached into the breast of his coat, his head ducked low as he muttered in natural, honest Russian to the man he met every night in this exact spot.

The light above the entrance to the back of the gas station, into the stockroom and the manager’s office, door usually locked, was out. It had been out for years, the attendant had told him, and there was no plan to replace the burned out bulb. That worked fine for his purposes. When his hand returned to the thin, grungy attendant’s sight, several inexpensive flash drives rested in his open palm.

A gas station attendant on the surface, the man in front of him was a much more important figure than that. An information broker, a man that dealt in secrets for millions while this grungy little store he used as a front for his operation pocketed mere hundreds for gallons of diluted petrol and ho-ho’s. The plan was genius, if you thought about it. The scrawny, scraggly man in front of him was vastly more powerful than the Prime Minister of this backwards country with the information that he wielded, and he hid himself here, in the grit and grim of Harper Rock. It was a pit of crime, where authorities were stretched thin, more interested in homicide and theft of physical evidence rather than pilfered secrets.

They didn’t care, because they didn’t know.

The man pressed a stack of bills into the tall Russian’s palm before he dropped the drives into the man’s hand. With a nod of thanks, he vanished, leaving the man standing alone with the cash in hand as the other locked himself in the office. The Russian frowned. Perhaps it wasn’t as locked as the store manager would like to think. He grunted, amused, and turned to leave the store. The blizzard outside was getting bad. His wife would worry that her alarms hadn’t gone off upon his return.

The thought had just finished when the lights in the station went out.

The earth beneath his boots moved, making him uneasy on his feet. He remained upright, even as a display of candy bars toppled nearby, his hand reaching out to take hold of the corner of the narrow space he stood in, hand tucking the cash neatly into the same pocket that his goods had recently vacated. No need to let his day’s work go to waste. He tried to take a step into the store, the building trembling with the shake of the earth, and the display nearest him tipped, the wire frame of steel piping fell into him, connecting with his side with a loud crack. He knew then that the iPad in his coat was crushed, could feel the glass screen cutting into his side. He pushed the display to the floor with a crash, and pulled the device from its pocket.

Splintered glass rained from the shattered screen, a fine, glittering dust fell like an artificial snow across his boots. He frowned, and narrowed a glare at the device. It didn’t respond. He glanced at the glass storefront, looking out into the chaotic streets. Fire seemed to dot the landscape, twisted metal was a recurring décor amidst the debris and collapsed buildings. It was a nightmare outside. People rushed from place to place, trying to free themselves from the hellstorm that had seemed to descend upon them. He watched as a woman fought to climb from the crushed door of her Miata, blood dripping from her chin as she finally purchased a seat on the empty window sill, only to be severed at the chest when a heavy transport truck skated across the ice, slamming into the tiny car.

Her mortal body offered little resistance as the roof of her tiny sports car sliced her in two.

If he wanted to see both himself and his wife to safety through this cataclysmic moment, they would both need to stay inside, no matter the cost. He pressed his back to the wall, and closed his eyes, his mind reaching through the invisible network of electronic signals and brainwaves that crossed one another in a chaotic nonsense that he had learned, slowly, to navigate. Wherever she was, her phone was on. He had found its signal, reaching out, searching for any kind of service. The towers appeared to be down. That made the maze of signals that much easier to find his way through.

Her device received a text, the format easy enough to figure out.

Коварная снаружи.
Оставайтесь в безопасности. Оставайтесь внутри, где вы находитесь.
Нет питания. Сохранить батареи, когда вы нуждаетесь во мне. Я знаю, как найти свой телефон.
Я люблю тебя.

Text Message reads:
Treacherous outside.
Stay safe. Stay inside, wherever you are.
No power. Save battery for when you need me. I know how to find your phone.
I love you.

He had noticed a handful of others in the store. It would be smart to ascertain their identities, before he gave himself away. He remained there, still as stone and hidden in the shadow of the small alcove between the manager’s office and the back room. Silently, he slipped further into the darkness, listening for the others, and what conclusions they may come to about their particular predicament. If he was lucky, they would decide to leave, to find their own ways home.

Isolated, he had a better chance of making his way through the incident unscathed. In a group, like he feared with the people in the Station, he would have to worry about others, and the factors that they presented in this sort of situation. He had to worry that one of them might hold some grudge against him, or his sire, or his bloodline, or their faction, or, perhaps the most difficult and the greatest nuisance of all, that one of them might be mortal, and ran the risk of discovering who and what it was that he had become. It would be far from the first body on the streets, he was sure.

That thought in mind, he checked his weapon. It was going to be a stressful night.

There were at least two other vampires in there with him, that much he could smell and there was that familiar pull of someone who shared blood with him. Probably a member of his line, one of the many he has not met yet, because the line was so large to begin with. As with any moment, the darkness helped for those who wished to hide and Nolan was just fine with that. Darkness, the shadows were his…friends, a comfort to him in most situations.

Before he could start a line of communication with those already within, another appeared; a human and she was hurt.

“Yeah there is someone here,” he called out to her and used his phone to illuminate the area as he walked up to her. “You ok?” he asked as he knelt carefully beside her, his desire to not startle or scare her in anyway. “Here…” he removed his jacket that though wet, was still rather warm and might be a comfort to her in this moment of insanity, if she wanted to take it. The blood he could smell clear as day and he wondered about the feeding situation with the others in the building. He himself had fed from Verity before he left to go to the gas station for her favorite candy. Regardless, he would defend her if it came down to it, as he still did not like the idea of feeding on unwilling humans.

“The name's Nolan, by the way,” he introduced himself with his best smile and hoped for the best.

Apocalypse. Apocalypse. Apocalypse. Apocalypse.

His mind kept repeating the word over and over again. It was starting to burn into the walls of his skull. It didn't look real to him; outside looked like nothing more than a bad b-rated horror movie. The dark smoke of car fires stood out completely in the ever present whiteness of the snow. So did the blood. This couldn't be real. There was no way this could be ******* real. Ishaq closed his eyes and rubbed at his face vigorously, almost expecting for the scene to disappear. But when he opened his eyes, it was all still there. Every bit of it was still there. He glanced down at his phone, which he was squeezing tightly in his hand. The fire outside was enough to illuminate the gas station only a tad bit.

Ishaq rubbed at his temples. God, he couldn't think straight. He worried about Milo. He worried about Jesse. He worried about Kaelyn. ****, he hoped his Squirt was safe. He hoped she hadn't been out in this. He was mildly comforted by the fact Milo had been at home. He didn't know about Jesse though.

At this moment, he didn't care there were others in the gas station. Even as he heard a female's voice calling out and another answering him, he didn't care. Though the scent of her blood filled the air, he didn't care. Hell, the whole gas station could be full of people right now but he didn't care. He didn't care. He needed to get out of there. He couldn't stay in there, but his feet wouldn't move toward the door of the establishment. Emotionally, he desired to rush into the chaos and go find his...man, even at this moment he couldn't call them his love ones. What was wrong with him? Logically, he knew it would be incredibly foolish of him to even consider venturing out into the chaos. People were dying out there. And sure, he was a vampire; he could probably endure a helluvalot more than all the humans out there.

But what if something happened to him?

He mumbled to himself, weighing over his options.

The vampire tucked his cell phone into the pocket of his hoodie before he began to pat his pockets. He knew he had a little something on him. It would make the whole situation a whole lot more bearable. Finally finding his little vial, he unscrewed the top. It dropped some where in the darkness. "Well, ****," he muttered, shaking his head. He'll get himself another vial if he makes it out of the gas station. He brought the opening up to his right nostril and closed his eyes, plugging his left nostril before snorting a few times.

Then he just dropped the vial and brought his foot down over it to crush it. His hand swiped at his nose as he sniffed a few times before he cleared his throat.

"Is..uh...everyone alright in here?" Ishaq called out.

Quietly pushing his back to the wall, he listened to the voices in the Station.

He counted three.

Two male, one female.

One of them was injured. Very human. The scent of blood washed through the small convenience store as he closed his eyes. The smell didn’t bother him to the extent that it would have, say, a year ago. At that time, he would have felt starved, a sharp pang of hunger in his stomach as it rolled and raged, demanding to be filled. Now, he could just barely feel his mouth watering at the tantalizing scent. He had no trouble controlling his impulse to hunt and feed. It had helped that he had put away the Packs and started drinking fresh again, starting every night with a round of hacks before he left the apartment for food. It was almost always a short venture, usually just to the lobby of the Veiled Tower apartment building where he and his wife shared a place. Sometimes it was a longer trek, but never very far. It was only on nights like tonight, when he had to sell the stash of information he had collected that he really strayed from his domain.

His cravings subdued, he shifted quietly from his secluded alcove and cleared his throat. [1]“Ya ne dumayu, schto lyuboy iz vas govorit’ po-russki?” his Russian was crystal clear, voice a gravelly baritone as he shifted his rifle’s weight on his shoulder. Piercing grey eyes flicked from one face to the next, seeking understanding. He had only found a very small handful of people that could correspond with him since he had landed in Canada. He was on the wrong side of the country for hoping to find people with an inkling of Russian in their linguistic repertoire. He frowned, his features hard with typical pessimism. He was almost sure that none of them would understand, though left some room for at least one person in his bleak view of the situation. It was almost absurd to assume that two of the trio would know what he said. Impossible almost, that all three would speak the language.

He shook his head, letting his hand pass through his short, dark hair as he took a slow breath to gather his patience. His hand pat at the shattered tablet in his coat. Had the glass not been so beyond repair, he could have likely fixed it. As it was, he could make it operational, but with a human among the small knot of individuals so tightly packed together, he thought that telepathic communication with the device was probably a poor judgment call. The masquerade was important to many of their kind, but was not held so highly by most as it was within his own lineage. That left a bitter taste in his mouth.

He lived to please his dark kin, would do anything that any one of them ever asked of him. His entire reason for being, however, was the implementation, the distribution, to be the very source of chaos. Erratic, unpredictable, beautiful. Chaos was what he craved even more, he might say, than the very blood that kept him strong. It had been a driving force in his behavior as a man, and that impetus had only intensified a hundred fold since meeting Every. He was a font of unpredictability, entirely feral in the way he handled most social dynamics, throwing entire groups into turmoil amidst one another. It had been his job for years. It was the core of what had pulled him to hacking. He craved the thrill of using technology to turn man against man. Human kind depended on it so deeply, so implicitly, that it was so easy to manipulate the average person with a few lines of code. Following even the single law of keeping their secret proved difficult and bothersome for the man. However, no matter how troublesome it may be for his craving for chaotic nature, he had, to date, avoided causing too much issue with the situation. He only hoped that it remained that way, trapped in such close proximity with the mortal woman, his eyes now falling on her.

[2]”Skoreye ozhidal etogo. Tret’ya po velichine strana v’mire i tak malo iz vas na Zapade fakticheski ispol’zovat’ yazyk. Vysokomernyy ublyudki, vy vse.” he muttered, the Russian quick and clipped. Annoyed. He reached into another pocket of his coat and removed a crumpled pack of cigarettes, lighter tucked into the foil carton as he held them up, tapping the lighter from the opening. [3]”Ya ne dumayu, schto lyuboy iz vas budet protiv?” he asked, before pulling a cigarette from the pack and placing it between his lips. He flicked the lighter, a gout of flame roaring from its mouth as the butane sprayed its misty-fine font into the spark and ignited. The cigarette caught in an instant and he flicked out the lighter, tucking it into his palm alongside the carton and taking a slow, soothing drag.

Instantly, he felt the soothing effects of the cigarette as the smoke filled his lungs and he sighed, smoke rolling from his lips as he held out the pack. [4]”Vy mozhete k odnomu, yesli vy khoteli by. Oni… sil’nyy.”

Translations:

[1] I do not suppose any of you speak Russian?

[2] Rather expected this. Third largest country in the world and so few of you in the West actually use the language. Arrogant bastards, all of you.

[3] I do not suppose any of you would mind?

[4] You are welcome to one, if you would like. They are... strong.

Note: The cigarettes he carries are laced. They are a very strong, Russian tobacco with an extra substance for stimulation. More information on this substance can be provided if necessary via PM.

First phrase: I speak Russian.
Second phrase: The only arrogant ******** here is you. You could at least try to speak our language before insulting us.

“Nice to meet you, Rain,” Nolan said with the smile still on his lips as he fished out his phone and turned on the light so that he could get a better look at her arm and gauge her general state. The others spoke up from the darkness, one in a language he could only guess at, but Rain seemed to know it and replied in kind. The fact that the man felt the need to insult them in a situation like this only made Nolan sigh and shake his head.

“Yeah, we are over here by the candy,” he called out to the first man. “I’m fine, but she’s hurt…not too bad though,” he said in somewhat of a lie. “Here,” he offered his phone to Rain to hold, he could see just fine in the dark and right now he did not mind letting her have it for the bit of light it offered. If she took it he would stand, “I’m going to try and find a first aid kit and some kind of light or heat for us, ok?” If she didn’t take it he would merely set it somewhere near her and stand to go and do as he planned. Straight to the cashier’s counter, he would hop over with ease and rummage about in the back. There should have been at least a first aid kit and some kind of light source.

“Jackpot!” he exclaimed as he grabbed hold of a first aid kit and a flash light. These he put into the metal trash can he found back there, after he emptied it of course, and brought all of it over to where Rain still sat. “Ok, I found a first aid kit, so I can try and patch you up a bit, if you want. I would need to look at the wound closer and need you to know that I’m no doctor or anything, but I think I can help a bit,” he offered with the best intentions at heart.

“Hey, do can you guys gather up some stuff that is flammable?” he called out to the others. “We can get a small fire going in this trashcan that would give us both light and heat for the time being.”

Nolan did not fancy himself a leader by any means, but there was stuff to be done and he saw no point in him being the only one to try and do it. With three vampires, this situation should be fairly easy to get through so there really were no worries save for the lack of communication with the ones out there in the store that they may have cared about. The more he stayed busy and focus on something else, the more he could keep his panic at Verity’s safety in check.

With the newly found flash light, he reclaimed his phone, shut off the light and returned it to his pocket. The flash light was turned on instead and left to sit in a place that shed light with blinding people too. This would be one of the longest nights of his life and he just wanted to get through it as smoothly as possible.