Lessons Learned in Blood

[Trahir Trahison]

Lessons Learned in Blood is a story detailing the evolution of the relationship between Dominique and Trahir Trahison and encompasses several different threads which all flow into the same timeline. This table of contents is an attempt to consolidate the RP into one cohesive timeline.

Table of Contents
Chapter 1 An interrupted feeding leads to a trip into hell and back for Dominique when she attracts the attention of the sociopath, Trahir.
Chapter 2 Trahir invades Dominique's territory to get a scarification/tattoo done. He ends up taking more from her in the form of her employee.
Chapter 3 Setting up the farmhouse for a visit from Dominique.
Chapter 3a - Trahir Journal
Chapter 4 - Nicolette Nicolette and another girl lured to America from France.
Chapter 4a Conflict.
Chapter 4b - Nicolette The arrival and enthrallment of Trahir's second thrall.
Chapter 5 The scarification complete, Dominique meets Nicolette, Doc is pissed off.
Chapter 6 (Begins with Gertrude's first post) Trahir and Dominique have dinner. She agrees to hunt.
Chapter 6a Trahir Journal
Chapter 7 (Bought and Paid For Chapter 1) Trahir and Mortll discuss Dominique and other matters of her employment.
Chapter 7a Dominique's first hunt, a definite shift in the dynamics of her and Trahir's relationship.
Chapter 8 (Bought and Paid For Chapter 2) Trahir enlists the aid of Mortll to clean up a potential Masquerade breech from the previous night.
Chapter 9 On the river at night and a change in sleeping habits.

--The following transcript was a live chat roleplay--

Dominique: The reclusive shadow was a creature of habit. First thing she did when she woke for the evening was to check in on her shop, the orders left for her to review by the day staff and then make her way out into the night. More often than not she was under the cover of shadows and virtually untraceable. Once inside the sewers she was on her way towards the south of town hopefully to check on Vita Bella and perhaps deal with some of the less than savory along the way. It was typically an uneventful route and that usually gave her time to wake up. Clearing a dark corner did the job for her much sooner than she anticipated.

There in the small shards of rare light she found a dark tall figure wrapped in the most concerning way around a writhing body. There was nothing that surprised her anymore or deterred her from voicing her objection. Dominique was not one to hold back her body, her mind or her voice.

“Oh hell no wtf is wrong with you?” The words came out of her mouth despite the fact her jaw dropped at what she was witnessing. The gall of the fearless fanged population never ceased to surprise her. Despite the shadows she was at one with HOPE reached out and shoved the back of the shoulder belonging to the aggressor. “Seriously…”

Trahir Trahison: Trahir looks up from the human he had been feeding on, letting her limp, but still living body drop from his grasp. The woman collapses as though her legs were made of rubber and the Killer narrows his eyes at the woman who interrupted him.“You that anti-beef when you were alive? Used to go around restaurants and bother people when they were eating a hamburger?”

He looks down at the woman on the ground and shakes his head. “Three second rule. Food on the ground too long now.” He considers shooting the human and then simply tunneling down to the sewers to leave the interfering woman along with the body and all the attention a gunshot would bring but instead he just stares at her balefully. “What do you want?”

Dominique: "Listen, Vlad, stretch your nutsack elsewhere. Get a power that self boosts and go plant some trees and chill." She heard it all by now and there was not a thing he could say to change her mind.

Trahir Trahison: "Vampire and vegan both start with V. Figure out which you are and get back to me."

Dominique: "Let me know the next time you are ready to cross the street." She meant it just as it sounded. He may be easy on the eyes but he needed some tread marks to add a little character to that pretty face of his. Especially if he thought she was going to suddenly jump over the fence to the dark side just because he said something that wasn’t new to her.

Trahir Trahison: "You're welcome for the blood bags. I help supply those" wink

Dominique: "I don't drink bags. I have the power to regenerate what I lose. I never drink." He wasn’t listening. Of course he wasn’t.

Trahir Trahison: "You don't deserve your fangs, Bella."

Dominique: "I don't have any." She really didn’t. She smiled to prove her point.

Trahir Trahison: "I suppose you drain spirits for their power too. At least what I kill lives on in the world until you leech it's energy away and actually finish the job for me. You're more a killer than you think."

Dominique: "I got my eyes on you. Watch the shadows. You start hunting and so do I." Again another statement she meant wholeheartedly.

Trahir Trahison: "You should have been hunting from the beginning."

Dominique: "Just found about you." She deadpanned."Now I have a target and a little more motivation."

Trahir Trahison: "You should be worried about the herd, not the rest of your pack".

Dominique: "My pack? I run alone." Which was the truth.

Trahir Trahison: "You are doing it wrong."

Dominique: "I am doing just fine and I am doing it right. You get that power and become civilized. You can put down your club and build a bridge and get the **** over it. Evolve."

Trahir Trahison: "Last batch like you that thought wolves and sheep could bed down together created paladins and blood thieves. You are not human. This is not HBO. The only true blood flows through the veins of the herd."

Dominique: "You watch more tv than I do. I bet you sparkle too? Can make yourself all irresistable and the cat's meow? Maybe you are a mind licker and get your kicks that way? Really is there nothing to strive for of purpose beyond slaughtering what is clearly weaker? That get you off? That is right up there with clubbing baby seals for the pelts. When you find the human population becomes extinct then what? Hmmm? What are you going to suck on then?"

Trahir Trahison: "A good shepherd tends his herd, he slaughters what he needs and looks after the rest. You speak of extinction yet you don't look at the population now compared to the past. Humans are like a virus, they spread through the world and they don't evolve, adapt, they change the world to what suits their needs, destroying it as they go. Like a virus. We are the anti-virus."

Dominique: Blinks. "Each is born with a right to live, be free and to choose their own way. Is there no sense of rights or personal choice? I am sure you can hit up a few concerts and find a plethora of depressed and lost souls who would be willing to accept your curse. Why hunt? Why not just ask and make it an extension of that general 'How ya doing' handshake greeting? Why resort to being a predator?"

Trahir Trahison: "Humans are the biggest thieves or the rights of others. They enslave one another, kill one another... You say these rights are applicable to all living things, from grass having the right to grow, cows having the right to birth their young, humans having the right to build. The reality is the grass is eaten by the cow, the cow by the human and the human by us. We are but links in the food chain girl. Fighting what you are doesn't make you less of it. It makes you a fool for fighting the inevitable. Hunt with me. You need not kill but by the way you talk you haven't fed as we were intended. Hunt with me and show me there is a gentler way."

Dominique: "I will show you but you may not like it. It would involve my sinking blade or bullet into you when you start acting like the streets are your urban jungle safari. Name it and I will be more than happy to teach you. I have no issue with you taking out the scum of the earth. It is the innocent are my concern."

Trahir Trahison: "There are no innocents. That was a religious concept designed by the old and weak clergy to keep themselves alive and breathing when their time is passed."

Dominique: Dominique was not finding any solid ground to stand on and she didn't like it. Who was this guy? "Ok..." So that part made some sense. Not like she truly believed in her grandmother's god. She knew that now. None of this would be happening if there was one. "Well ****..." Her mind spoke instead of her lips. "Why the hell did he have to be so damn smart?" Her jaw clenched in irritation as her lips stayed closed. There were moments when she swore that she could just deal with such issues far easier by sinking the end of her blade into a skull. But that sure wouldn't plead her case. It would only help his. "Who the hell are you?"

Trahir Trahison: "I am Trahir Trahison of the Trahison lineage, disenthralled from Quartermaine, adopted by Vedarian and Andras, sworn Owl of Tytonidae, adopted childe of Velveteen at your service." He gives a formal bow at the end, very well executed with a flourish of the hand.

Dominique: Dominique raised a brow and cocked her head subtly following the male with her chocolate orbs as he proceeded to bow after announcing who he was. Velveteen. Her top lip twitched upward and she interrupted the snarl that was building within. That explained a lot. "So you belong to Ms. Leather and Mr. Track and Field." She chuckled. "You are out of your tree. Surprised you are allowed out to wander alone. You are the one who runs in a pack. That whole strength in numbers thing. You truly believe in something you stand alone for it."

Trahir Trahison: "I agree. I believe in what I do and I am here alone standing for it miss..." He leaves the invitation for a name hanging, aware that his affiliation with Tytonidae and his chosen sire sometimes cause other vampires to shy away.

Dominique: ”Jane." She can't believe she said it but she did. There was no way she was going to make it easy for they guy by handing out her known name.

Trahir Trahison: "A pleasure to meet you miss Jane. Come by my farm in Walnut Grove, plot six. It is not as well maintained as it could be, but the land is fertile and there is more than enough room for a hunt."

Dominique: "I don't hunt animals or humans." She eyed him directly.

Trahir Trahison: "And now we circle back to the beginning. That is what needs to change. You don't have to kill to hunt."

Dominique: "What is there to hunt?" She imagined the poor people likely tending to the land. He probably loads up trucks and brings them in for his twisted enjoyment.

Trahir Trahison: "Depends on the circumstance. Animals around the city are where many start. Humans though, you need to take less from them for more effect. That is what we were designed for ‘Jane’. One single pint, of human blood sustains us for a night. Five pints of animal blood to do the same. There are many ways to hunt. Allurists may bedazzle their prey. Shadows may steal into their home in the night and drink while the mortal sleeps. It can be path dependent or personal choice. I prefer gangsters personally."

Dominique: "I don't need blood. I never have to drink or take from another. I bet they like you too." So he liked the doped up veins of the slums and streets. He didn't have to work hard to survive. " I care less about the ones weak enough to be a slave to a needle, pill or drink. They say you are what you eat. I am doing just fine without ever tasting a drop. I am proof it can be done."

Trahir Trahison: "Yes, and the Living Barbie Doll being a breatharian is entirely natural. Since you can fill your own stomach I am supposing you are a necromancer?"

Dominique: Blinks. Was he talking about dolls? She winced then shook her head. "I believe I have a bond to the shadows of some sort. I feel weak all I have to do is think about it and I am good as new."

Trahir Trahison: "Hunt with me."

Dominique: Her lips parted but for a brief moment no words came out. She wanted an answer just as much as he did. "Hunt what?"

Trahir Trahison: "Come find out later on. You might save a life, girl."

Dominique: Her brows raised. Well he just got himself an accept to his invitation. "Indeed I will. You can count on it. By the way the name is Jane, boy." She smirked as she turned and allowed the shadows to envelope her. She embraced all the powers they brought her and made her way straight towards her farm which just so happened to be incredibly close to his. She just found a worthy cause.

A few hours later at the farm mentioned there was a second meeting.

Trahir Trahison: "Welcome, we have a slight problem miss Jane."

Dominique: "Yes, we certainly do Mr.T." She couldn't agree with the man more than she did at that very moment.

Trahir Trahison: "There is a human, a female, maybe 25, 26. She was here a moment ago. She definitely knows too much about our kind. In fact the evidence she had found might actually be enough to convince a few people we actually exist. While I'm not sure of the names on her list I know that West Tower was the focus of her investigation.You don't have any innocent friends who live there do you?"

Dominique: "You let your lunch slap you in the face and walk out? Thought you were a skilled hunter?" She looked around as if she could afford to be so relaxed. Part of her was. "That evidence comes from being here on your property and obviously having dealings with you. Those I care about will be safe. I would think you should be concerned as should I about your recklessness." Her blade was within reach where she always kept it. He seemed bright enough to not take for granted she came unarmed.

Trahir Trahison: "Oh, no. You are under the impression that she got away. No. She is quite safe, headed southeast through the field. Shall we?" He motions outside. "Of course I suppose you could go ahead and waste time trying to kill me instead of us handling the larger threat."

[Dominique]

--The following transcript was a live chat roleplay--

Dominique: Dominique looked at him waiting for him to say something beyond what he just did. Surely he was not missing anything she had just spent minutes telling him. She was going outside. Yes she was. She was going to go outside and shoot him if he so much as thought she was going to go chase down some human he had been toying with and neglected to tie up the obvious loose ends. "After you Mr. T." She nodded to the door. "Lead the way. Just not sure why it is my responsibility to clean up after your mess." She followed him out and HOPE slid around to her lower back.

Trahir Trahison: He looks at her pointedly a moment. "Her life is in your hands Jane. How this hunt plays out determines what I do to her. It can be the easy way, or it can be real easy..." With that he turns and steps toward the door and out into the night air.

Dominique: HOPE slid down and felt the cool bar skin of her back as she pulled out Ultimi Riti. It was comfortable in her steady grip as she brought it forward and quickly took aim while stepping out behind him. If he was so messy he needed to chase his meal down then perhaps she could balance the odds a little more. Once he was set back with a wound she would hopefully leave the message that recklessness she was concerned about. He learned nothing if she chased after his unhappy meal and bagged it up for him. Everyone was affected by the choice he made bringing home his take out. The inked finger curled and pulled the trigger sending the hot lead just in the spot he disappeared instantly from. "Great..."That would mean she was about to take a really fast run.

Trahir Trahison: Waving from a ways into the fields Trahir lifts a figure, a human figure over his head, held by the throat in one hand. He is perhaps fifty yards away. "Jane! You were aiming the wrong way," he calls out as he drops the shape. The woman gets up and begins running toward the farmhouse, toward Dominique. Trahir laughs, watching.

Dominique: This guy had some huge issues. She was positive he had to be a monster before someone ever sank fangs into him. The shadow felt the pull of her speed match his own and the world around her became a blur of deadly accuracy as she came towards where he was. She breezed past the female who was clearly terrified. "Run! Don't look back." She slams into him hoping to knock him down.

Trahir Trahison: Trahir doesn't move, he takes the hit and using his martial arts training rolls with it, several times, coming up to his feet still skidding through crops. He looks around at the massacred plants and frowns. "I thought you liked plants, vegan." He walks calmly toward her now. His eyes on hers as he does. "You are doing it wrong still.” The woman runs screeching still toward the house as Dominique had instructed, fifty yards closing to forty. "She knows at least five names..."

Dominique: Dominique was a ball of limbs flipping and finally popping back up ready to take a swing. "Because who gave them?" She was seething. "You didn't help matters by playing with your food. As for your plants I suggest a few plant spikes. They look like they are in need." She stepped in and spun to the right taking her body into a rotation that had her foot cutting the air towards his face.

Trahir Trahison: The same ability that had told him she was drawing down on him again gives him notice... he almost has time to shake his head before stepping into the roundhouse kick and doing... nothing. Letting her slam the bullet wound in her right thigh into muscle tensed so hard it may as well have been steel. "The human, she's getting away..." 30 yards now from the 1925 Rolls Royce Phantom parked outside the farmhouse.

Dominique: Dominique rolled to the ground and felt the affects of kicking a wall vibrate through her. There was something to be said for training more often than she recently had. It was added to her 'to do' list as she stood up shaking out her throbbing and wounded leg. Her dark eyes shot to the direction the human was heading pausing long enough to check out the silver phantom that had to be a mirage. If it was real and in Harper Rock she would have known about it. "You are the one responsible not me." She stepped back.

Trahir Trahison: "Make it quick for her. She is injured. She'll suffer." As he talks the custom gun, that beautiful Andras special comes into view in his hand, a flare of raw vampiric power flows through him and three rounds leave the barrel as his arm raises, smacking into flesh 40 yards away with pinpoint accuracy. The woman falls screaming in agony as Trahir's emotionless eyes meet Dominiques. "The lamb bleats for you. Will you let it scream or silence it Clarice?" The action itself is heinous, but the deadpan look across the Killer's face is worse. It's indifferent to the action he just took, more interested in Jane's reaction than the woman's suffering.

Dominique: "We don't want to do what needs to be done, Janie. Not when it makes us uncomfortable, scares us or seems cruel to be kind." Her mind was filled with her grandfather's voice and it turned her insides into tight painful knots instantly. She felt his wise again eyes pinning her down for a moment of truth. "But we do it. Because if we don't things will never change and the suffering will only continue. Sometimes you need to step up even if you don't want to. Someone has to and it might as well be you." The sounds of pain squealed through her ears. She swallowed hard and took a fast upper right hook with HOPE balled up into the man's face. She didn't bother to see if it would even register with him. "You son of a *****."

Dominique burst again using her speed and was a blur moving around the human taking the warm wet head in her hands. Bright red fluid made her hands slick as she held the face tight. "I'm sorry." Her hands moved in the blink of the human's eyes and wrenched her neck until it snapped and the body went limp. She dropped the female on the ground and gave a middle finger to the man standing watching his problem be solved. Dominique inhaled deep and felt sick. What had the world come to?

Trahir Trahison: Trahir weathers the blow, he owes her that. He has done what her sire should have, forced her to be what she is. He doesn't feel the need to even look up, doesn't need to see the how of it. He spits a thin trail of already dead blood from split lips onto the ground at his feet. Casually he walks toward the body and the woman standing next to it. "Hit me at this point and I will kill every childe you sire for the rest of eternity. Learn. Hit me afterward if you need to." He bends down to the body and lifts it, in a fashion almost as if revering and starts walking to the farmhouse. "Come with me."

Dominique: Dominique was about to open her mouth but she remembered this guy was from the never ending flock of fury. Those that mattered most would be safe but to be sure her lips pressed together. Her eyes looked down and the peaceful looking bloody female was lifted upward by the questionable hunter. "I will not create more abominations. If that was the case I would not have given mercy instead to what was in my hands." Her brow lifted up thinking about the fact he was actually telling her she couldn't hit him. "Where? Because if you have more snacks running around that is your problem. I don't even know how I ended up here to be honest." What the hell was she doing there?

Trahir Trahison: Trahir continues walking toward the farmhouse, carrying the woman who, apart from blood and bile from the liver shot he had given her dripping in their wake, could have been sleeping peacefully. "Jane, this lesson, it will continue until you learn it. Every night if need be. Come with me and learn the first time. I told you you could save lives."

Dominique: The blood on her hands told a totally different story. It was still warm and plentiful as she felt the fluid dripping from her fingers. She shook each one quickly with a snap away from her body. Was this how they considered saving lives? It was a waste. She leaned down and brushed her hands over the overgrown plants that she passed by. She stopped briefly and tried to rid her fingers of the last of the blood brushing them over the vibrant petals of the blue heart flowers. "I have been saving lives. A lot of them in fact until I crossed your path. You have any clue what a waste that was?" Of course he didn't. He was carrying the body like he was the female's knight in shining armor.

Trahir Trahison: He doesn't glance back as he walks. He steps up onto the porch and knees the door open, heading into the kitchen and laying the body down atop the table there. The farmhouse looks ransacked inside, there are dishes sitting in the sink from years ago, unwashed, cobwebs mark every corner of the place. The last meal left on the stove has long since rotted on the dishes that never made it to the table. "That was a pointless death. I told you that you were in control. Had you simply went and caught her you could have saved her." A small knife appears in his hand from behind his back and he opens her throat filling the air with the scent of fresh blood. "Drink."

Dominique: Dominique shook her head watching him. Her face grimaced into a sour expression as she stepped back. It had nothing to do with the rotten decor that never had a proper cleaning, the scent of blood flooded her senses and she braced her hands at her hips. "What did you miss?" She growled as her jaws tightened up. She wasn't disgusted as much as she was feeling the burn of something else entirely filling her veins. She stepped back and turned around. "I am good. You go on ahead and enjoy." HOPE waved him off in the air as she went to look at the wall like it was suddenly worth her entire focus.

Trahir Trahison: "I told you that you had the chance to save lives. You squandered one. There is another and another and another out there. They can be saved by you bending over this table and draining this body. Or there can be more. Maybe on your fire escape. Maybe at your front door. Maybe in your car..." Trahir is relentless once he has an idea in his head. "Drink it while it still has the warmth of life in it. If I have to preserve the waste you will not enjoy what happens next..."

Dominique: "Let me get this straight. If I don't do as you say you are going to run around and drop dead bodies on my doorstep?" She shook her head. "I don't think so." Her eyes went to the female bleeding and wondered if that scent that was souring as the blood cooled was offensive to anyone with fangs. It was like fresh milk that was instantly spoiled."I don't drink blood." She came closer. "Did you miss that part?"

Trahir Trahison: A small smile appeared over the young vampire's lips. "Very well." With that he leans forward and buries his face into the throat of the woman, draining the blood as it seeps from the arterial wound on the throat. He straightens and looks at 'Jane" his face a blood painted visage from the nose down. "One life wasted. How many can your vegetarian conscience bear?" He shoves the body of the young woman unceremoniously from the table as he drops a piece of paper on it. Then he is gone, a whisper of movement, the paper dragging through a vacuum hard enough to slam the door behind him.

Dominique: Dominique watched the body land with a thud to the floor like it lost its value with the last drop of blood taken. With the door slamming she was about to chase him out as well until the paper floated and landed revealing some sort of writing. Her hand reached out and retrieved the paper from the top of the female. The lifeless eyes were frozen yet she waited to see if they may finally blink. She had more hope than in the ink on her fingers. It was deeper than skin and blood. It was in her bones.

Dominique looked at the writing and found a phone number. She felt a disgusted look wash over her face as she headed to the door and pulled it open. He made a huge mistake. Now she was hunting. He found himself a taker on his game. The car waiting outside was beautiful and a huge temptation but the car thief knew one thing. It was hotter than a virgin brides panties. She wouldn't even breathe on it despite how much she wanted to. There were more important things to do. Finding out who Trahir Trahison was climbed to the top of her list. He was sorely mistaken if he thought she would be bending to his demands or care tactics. Threats would get him the same place as the rest that handed them to her. Nowhere.

[Trahir Trahison]

--The following transcript was a live chat roleplay--

Trahir Trahison: As he pulls the silver Rolls Royce Phantom into the farmhouse driveway nearby to his own property Trahir spends some time surveying the layout of the land. His mind is already turning to the ways he is going to bring ‘Jane’ around to the correct line of thinking. Trahir knows his way is the best. If it wasn’t, he would be doing things a different way. He smiles noting the camera pointed at his car and then backs it out of the driveway and pulls out of Walnut Grove, heading north. He has a few stops to make this evening.

The second is all the way to the north side of the city. Not a place he is accustomed with outside of the empty field occasionally used by a certain faction for certain activities. Tonight though bloodshed is not on the agenda. Tonight the agenda instead includes simple surveillance.

He parks his car after the drive to the Honeymead Market and steps out of it. He, locks the doors by hand, no modern additions have been made to make the car more convenient. Nothing but original parts adorn his favorite vehicle. He can’t rightly claim to love the car. He does enjoy it but at the end of the day it is just a car to him. Still, he takes good care of it, meticulously cleaning it and keeping the engine in perfect running condition.

It’s not his baby, he is just very detail oriented. That detail oriented mind now turns its attention to his webphone. Yes, this is the place. Inside, and the shop should be across the marketplace. He had been considering a tattoo for quite some time, he knew what it was going to be and in his hand is a piece of paper with the intended design. He makes his way inside and heads toward Twisted Sister Custom & Design. The irony of the situation amused him slightly.

Dominique: If there was anything that annoyed her it would have to be the traps that she created for convenience. Instead the devices had become a source of irritation. First it was ghosts leading to vivid dreams and now it more recently was a particular blood drinker who felt it was his duty to have her see the errors in her ways.

The rare Rolls Royce Phantom was captured making a brief entry into her farm property then backing out. It wasn't earth shattering other than the fact that just across the road a murder took place. Her eyes glanced down to her hands and she went to the island sink in Vita Bella and washed her hands for the fifteenth time in the past twelve hours. The scent of the cucumber melon floated up but it did nothing to rid the constant aroma of the females blood that had long been washed away.

Grabbing a beige hand towel from the counter she rubbed the surface of HOPE and LESS dry. The towel was rough as she used more pressure and friction than usual. If her hands had blood of the innocent on them before then they were coated despite the lack of evidence now. She sighed at the pattern that was seeding it's presence within her. All she needed was a little more to try to forget. The sudden blinking of her cell phone caught her attention. Did she really dare even look?

Dom moved across the kitchen and stepped into the bedroom and retrieved the communication device from the dresser. Just as she suspected another camera alert and this time it was labeled from the shop. That was to be expected. She was ready to set the phone down when she second guessed the choice and swiped the message and opened the feed. Her petite body dropped slowly to sit on the bed as she watched Mr.T himself stroll into Twisted Sister. Her voice was lost but her lips formed the words.

"What the...?"

Trahir Trahison: Trahir spent some time looking over the shop. He had heard they did good work there and what he wanted would require both a steady, talented hand and likely years of experience. Scarification was not the same as tattooing. He didn’t want a simple branding either. Trahir wanted a hand carved job that would cover his entire back with the symbol of his lineage, his namesake, Trahison.



With the piece meant to cover his back nearly entirely there was plenty of canvas… and plenty room for error. Not that it would be too much of a problem if it was messed up. He would simply heal the wound like any other and go on with life. Still, he was prideful and had a tendency to lean toward perfectionism.

Finally after looking through some of the flash art for about a half hour he glances around to find an artist to speak with about the desired piece. Once the wound is sealed, he has unfinished business to attend with miss Jane. Ah, there. Making his way over to a heavily inked man who seems to have just finished off with a customer who is on their way out the door Trahir reaches into his pocket before stopping, something triggers the lizard-brain within the vampire, that primordial side in control of fight and flight, eat and ****. He lowers his hand and turns his head as she comes into view heading up the stairs.

Trahir doesn’t believe in coincidences. Never did that he can recall. He turns his body around to face her head one, large, imposing. “Ah, Jane. I was just coming in for some work.Is this your shop?” He asks the question in a voice that says he already knows the answer, though that would be a lie if he voiced it. He’s surprised to see her there. Very surprised. He had thought to get the work done, heal up, then hunt her down and continue their lessons. In Trahir’s mind that’s what these little encounters are. Lessons.

It seems class is in session.

Dominique: Dominique was moving along rather quickly. As quickly as she could while getting dressed hopping on one foot then the other to get the shoes on her feet. It was a quick route via fade portals to save time while she finished up getting ready. All she needed was that guy in her shop making dinner out of her customers or the two tattoo artists she had left to rely on to do the work upstairs.

“I swear…” She didn't even finish the statement as she came in the first floor of the shop. Her jacket was half on when she decided to tug it back off and clench it in her colorful hand while coming up the stairs.

The shadow spotted her employee and sighed in relief tossing her jacket over the chair next to the desk where customers can search through the artwork for what they want. Ben was alive and well. A beautiful sight for her tired eyes. While she walked towards the counter she sized him up slowly and nodded to him when their eyes met. Ink artists. Go figure. They were hard to come by.

As soon as Twisted Sister was born every tattooist with a great reputation she had heard of that was worth having already had their own shop. The one she was lucky to start out with was amazing. It was great having him on the staff and business was booming. Then he asked for a long weekend off to fly south and party. Of course she was accommodating. It sucked that he got lost in the sheets and tequila and was still months later stuck in Mexico. The newest talent with an ink gun in hand was not an option for being on the menu. That is when her focus snapped to attention and landed on Trahir Trahison.

“Mr. T...”

Dominique could hear the female screaming as soon as her eyes landed on him. She cleared her throat lightly and glanced back over at the taller than average dirty blonde inked up human watching her talking to the unfamiliar Trahir. Wonderful.

Ben’s fingers were moving along pulling out ink and getting the gun ready as if he expected he would be working on the guy. His hazel eyes were fixed on her with a rather protective focus. She forced a reassuring smile despite the current company she was in and nodded to the stairs. He knew the signal and set the items down on the rolling red cabinet in front of him

“I got this. Care to check on the order in the office and handle the phones?” It really wasn’t a question even if it sounded like one.
“No problem.” Ben paused in the midst of passing by and eyed them both. Trahir got more attention than likely was expected. “Call me if you need anything.”

Once the warmth of the air cooled with Ben’s exit Dominique stepped around the customer counter and placed her palms flat. Each fingertip pressed down and soon her hands lifted and the sounds of nails scraping on the red surface could be heard.

“Yes…” Wide eyes lifted and fixed on him. “It is my shop. Care to tell me what you are doing in here?”

Dominique could be a woman of many words or very few. It was all about inspiration as to what the other person in the conversation got out of her. In this case. The male she was currently staring at was getting asked what was on her mind. Just what in the hell was he doing standing in her shop? She was not about to have a repeat performance of the stunt he pulled a few nights prior. She wasn't about to join in the routine of dealing with the disposal of human bodies like empty drink pouches.

Trahir Trahison: Looking her over for a long moment, Trahir considers the situation and then gives Dominique a warm smile. He looks like a man who has just seen a dear old friend, or perhaps one who has been reunited with a lover who has been away for a while. “Why, Jane I am here for the same reason anyone else comes to a tattoo parlour. I need some work done.”

In truth Trahir is just as surprised to find Jane owns the business as she likely was he chose it to walk into. His muted emotions though pay dividends in the lack of reaction he gives and allow him to play it off, to make it seem as though he had been expecting nothing more or less than to find her here to begin with. “I had thought you would have been here when I arrived, I browsed a while looking things over, waiting but nothing seemed to work for me better than what I had already picked out.”

With that he holds out the paper he brought with him of what he wants done to her, the smile stays on his lips as he speaks. “”Whole back piece, scarification. Once it heals up a little, I want the coloration added in with ink. You didn’t think I was going to harm your employee did you? Surely you have enthralled him and he is no threat to the Masquerade, correct? Tattoo parlours can be rough places and if someone came in and caused trouble with say… a pistol, and you were hit, you wouldn’t have an unenthralled human as a potential witness lurking around would you?”

With that the smile fades from his lips. “Really, I just want you to carved that picture into me. You should enjoy it after all. I saw the violence within you when you snapped that girl’s neck the other night at the farm. Maybe I’ll send you a copy of the footage, it was beautiful. You should have seen the look on your face.”

He casually strolls over to a table pulling off his sweater and undershirt revealing a body that would be at home in a boxing or wrestling ring, heavily muscled, the definition so well defined it could be used for any Greek Adonis sculpture if the healthy skin complexion was more alabaster. The bronzed skin looks as though sun-kissed, the vampire even has a tan.

“I can’t wait to write you a shining review on your work,” he says as he slides onto the table.

Dominique: Those big warm eyes of hers blinked slowly while Trahir asked if she thought he would actually harm Ben. Of course she did. That is why she hopped like a pogo stick dressing on the way over. Her fingers pulled in so that both hands balled up to reveal HOPE on her right hand over the knuckles and LESS on the opposite hand in similar fashion. She hardly noticed the ROMANTIC that was split between the two hands beneath hopeless. Because that is what it had come down to. Hopeless and she was staring at a vampire that had a lot of nerve or several wires that never fully got connected.

"I watched you gun down a female for shits and giggles and you are surprised I am concerned about my employees in my shop when you step in?" The shadow hissed as she patted the counter and stepped away from it. "Not sure what I am missing with the whole idea you are offended by this. Surely you would expect such a response."

Dominique felt her jaw tighten as her steps took her back around the counter to see the paper he is extending to be viewed. She was taken by surprise that the guy actually walked into her shop seeking work done. The design had her staring at the paper then back up to him.

"You are right..." She kept the piece of paper and scratched the side of her head in a rather relaxed manner. "You do need some work."

Dominique heard the word carved and her eyes went to the red cabinet in the station where the branding and scarification were usually done. She had several ideas of what to use to cut him up. He had it coming. But she knew he was trouble and capable of a lot more. Her mind was working as she followed him to the station as if he knew which one was the particular one used for such work.

"You record that ****?"

Dominique was caught and Trahir was bringing it up? Blackmail anyone? Well he just raised the bar. She blinked. There were blades that would work. She just had to open the cabinet and catch him off guard. She set down the design and started slipping on a set of purple gloves. Why get her hands dirty twice?

"I don't enthrall or treat humans as my cattle or work horses. I have heard how some keep their minds under control or have them thinking they are all that and a bag of rippled Lay's. I don't and won't." She snapped the cuff of each glove loudly then opened the cabinet while he removed his shirt and sweater. "If I wore any look relating towards violence it would be inspired by the sight of you."

Dominique pushed her foot on the pedal beneath the black leather tattoo chair and had it lower due to her petite stature. She would soon pull out the knives. She could already feel them in her hand as she turned to see his rather impressive physique. He was still responsible for that whole mess the other night. She had not forgotten. The sounds of the female pleading for help and the sound of her neck receiving it was louder than Dominique cared to have in her head while she looked at him getting comfortable.

"You don't know me."

The first blade was in her hand and getting comfortable. The piece of paper was on the cabinet. What was she doing? HOPE curled up tight in a possessive hold as she felt the overwhelming desire to go unseen and invisible. No one should see what she was going to do. Her hand was visible as it moved. She paused. Why was she still visible? She stood there stunned. Her eyes now focused on her hands moving oddly about in front of her face. She narrowed her eyes looking at him. Was this another one of his sick tricks?

"You can start on that review anytime." She grabbed the piece of paper and made her way to the copier.

[Dominique]

--The following transcript was a live chat roleplay--

Trahir Trahison: Trahir smiles under a curtain of hair. The chooses to ignore the comment about needing work and instead answers her in reference to the woman. “Of course I recorded that. Wouldn’t you? That was artful. The way you twisted her head around. I put a couple rounds in her, sure but she was good for another half hour maybe. You just came in all vampiric and snapped her neck so neatly I almost thought you were going to pull her head off.”

He listens to her talk about enthrallment and nods, closing his eyes and growing more relaxed. “I’ve been known to inspire violent reactions in women before.” It may sound like a jest, but in all actuality it’s quite literal. He has been shot in the foot, stabbed in the chest, shot in the groin even by women within the few short months he has been a vampire. Granted all of them were due to Tytonidae activities and some even at his own behest, but he still managed to find himself on the receiving end of blade or bullet several times. “Enthralling humans is a thing of beauty. It brings them into our world but allows them to live. Something they see too much but you don’t want to kill them. Enthrallment is the better option.”

When she tells him he doesn’t know her he lifts a single brow and pushes himself up onto his elbows, “Sure I do. I know you liked murdering that chick a lot more than what you are making out you did.” He watches her a long moment, he watches her very carefully. “I’ll bet part of you wanted to do that before you ever decided to open your mouth about me feeding. I’ll bet that same part can’t wait to sink that blade into my flesh. Maybe it’s just the full moon. Does funny things to us sometimes.”

Dominique: Dominique felt the air drift over her shoulders. The sensation stirred her from pondering her current predicament. It could have been nothing. The air conditioner kicking on without a sound again or perhaps it was the company she was currently in. It offered no answers and left more questions. Just like the fact that she stood there while he explained to her how he knew her and gave her examples of why he felt he did. Planted to the floor with a blade in hand and still listening to what he had to say. What really held her there? A lot.
Dominique released the blade and surrendered it to the tray that was available for such a purpose.Ben was downstairs. Twisted Sister was open for business to the public. Customers could be coming and going at any point. Bloodshed other than the kind contracted under one of the offered services was not exactly great for business. Outside those points there just so happened to be an issue with the fact she was not able to become as visible as the miniscule particles in the air floating around them. What that was about she had no clue.

Perhaps it was that the shadow had neglected to take the few moments to restore her energy through self boosting as she called it. Perhaps that was it. Her inked feet made their way back to the station he was in holding down the leather covered table with his body. Bad things were happening with the dark one that had recently crossed her path. She had to do something. The woman may have been walking but she retreated deep within as her chocolate orbs disappeared beneath their respective lids briefly. Again she found a wall of sorts preventing her from achieving
the result she had become accustomed to gaining. Something was wrong. Seriously wrong.

Dom was feeling the increased awareness emphasizing the weakness from not having things go as she expected. That would not sit well with her at all. She liked control over a few aspects of the world around her. Her body was at the top of her personal list and high with expectation. Losing a little of that caught her off guard and in present company that was a dangerous factor.

With a squeeze of the sponge her gloved hand began to cleanse the surface of the skin beneath her. Dominique was in a few places at once. She was prepping the back that would be the canvas for extensive scarification. She was also with Ben who was downstairs at her desk expecting to be able to complete the order in front of him, maybe add a few more tattoos to the random bodies that would walk in and eventually leave the store altogether and go home to whoever or whatever waited for him and sleep worry free.

The responsibility she felt was increasing as HOPE moved over the tight muscle beneath the sponge. She pressed down as her petite hand continued to travel. He was right. She felt it through her fingers as they curled tighter around the sponge held in her palm. She wanted to use the scalpels more than any artist should on a customer. What would come from the first layer penetrated or the second? Her face was expressionless as the sponge arrived at the small divide of his lower back. It paused while she tried to pull herself from the sharp edge of the blade in her mind. She had already begun the process of cutting him deep.

“You are right.” Dominique breathed out what air she no longer needed. The sensation of the act itself offered only a small measure of relief. Perhaps her reserved admittance of the truths he mentioned did more for her than anything else. “You ready to get started? Depending on how you are with healing this could be a piece of work that will stay for a couple days, a month or permanently. Some never lose their scars.”

Dominique removed the sponge from the body beneath it and turned away tossing it into the waste basket closest to her. She would give him the time it took while she dried some of the moisture from his back. He could still change his mind after the outline ink from the paper was applied or the scalpel took its first path down into the layers of flesh beneath it. She really hoped he wouldn’t. She was about to get paid to get down deep into his skin and cut it apart.

Trahir Trahison: Trahir is admittedly a megalomaniac. When Jane admits he is right he gives a small grin, the gesture still covered by his hair laying across his face. He is oblivious to the issues she is having using the gifts of her path, perhaps that is for the best. Trahir isn’t one with a line of credit in the tolerance department. He closes his eyes and waits for her to finish washing his back.

Any other time this feels good to the Killer. He enjoys the feeling of being pampered. Part of his egotistical nature. Beyond simply enjoying it he almost feels he is entitled to it. That others should enjoy it as much as he does. “Tell me a little about yourself Jane. This doesn’t have to be a meeting leading to more animosity, violence, or even harsh words. I just want to help you to understand what you are. You have a lot of potential. I saw it with the girl.” He brings his hands lazily up in front of him and makes a snapping motion with them. “So clean a break, so natural. I bet you were a fighter before your sire ever sunk fang into flesh.”

He brings his arms back up and places his hands under his cheek, resting his head as she works. “We could be friends you know. I just want you to hunt with me.”

Dominique: Another chill shot up her spine. Doc never sank a fang into her flesh. The thought no more than moved through her mind when she felt the reminder of the opposite. It was at the back of her neck. How could she forget he had? It was in one of their many violent confrontations. It was not the final blow by any means but still it happened.

The coup de grâce was far more focused. The tool used was a scalpel. One likely similar what she currently had access to. She was not alert when it happened. A ton of frozen concrete speeding toward her face made sure she was out cold. It was the wound left open when she woke that left no question that he carried his tools of his trade with him. It was purposeful. The edges were neat, precise. Only one type of blade could do that and a whole lot of skill. Doc was well known to have an abundance of both ever ready.

“It takes more strength to leave a man standing that has done nothing to warrant action than it does to cut him down.” Dominique was not about to speak of Doc. She had never made it a habit and she certainly was not about to. Obviously if he was in Tytonidae he knew who she was linked to. What didn’t that group know about the city and it’s inhabitants? Was this part of a bigger plan? What was coming out of her mouth surely would be expected if he had any sort of conversation with Doc regarding his most stubborn and elusive spawn. “Especially one that is living under laws of a much different world than the one you do and is known to be weaker. It may not be your cup of tea but I was trained to be a fighter for the other side of the war. I lost my battle on grave errors. I trust few and I don’t take kindly to being put in positions that result as the one did the other night. There is blood between us now. I don’t take that lightly and I am sure you don’t either, Mr. Trahison.”

Dominique reached for the rolling chair and adjusted the height giving it a spin to find just the right spot she could plant her bottom down on. She leaned back while hooking her feet beneath the bars on the bottom of the chair and tugged the red industrial cabinet towards her for convenience. The sterile towels and supplies would be needed as well as the stock of scalpels that were going to be used heavily.

“I am not so sure what we have going on will ever fall under the category of friends, Trahir.” She pulled the protective plastic sheath from the business end of the fine surgical steel blade. Her dark eyes lifted from the action of her gloved hands. “I think it is safe to say there may be a few terms that would be far more appropriate in regards to us. There is a lot to learn before we can attach a label to it. What that will be remains to be seen.”

Dominique was confident as she brought the paper carefully over his back. With a steady gentle hand she made easy work of pressing down to transfer the ink to the vampire’s back. Satisfied that the outline would remain HOPE pulled up the paper then rolled it up quickly creating the expected noise that went with it. It was a ball in the air before finally disappearing into the waste basket. Now one last question remained.

“You sure about this?” The fact that her gloved hand readily took possession of a scalpel and raised it up more than would be expected said she sure as hell was. “I know I am ready.”

Trahir Trahison: He rolls over onto his side a moment facing her before swinging his legs off the table. “No, I’m not ready actually. Now that I think about it…” He hops off the table, stopping dead in front of her, the scalpel a hairsbreadth from his chest and reaches down. “I don’t want to get blood on my pants. It’s hard to wash out.”

He unsnaps the button on his jeans and kicks off his boots before pushing the jeans to the floor. Of course their is no underwear. Unhurried, unashamed and unperturbed he steps out of the jeans and kicks them over by his shirt before slipping back onto the table and reclaiming his prior position, back up toward her.

“”Now I’m ready. Still didn’t tell me much about yourself. Hobbies, cool people, friends, family… where you came from, where you’re going…” He pushes his hair out of his eyes and looks her over. “Never even told me your sign babe.”

He speaks casually now, as though the things she has told him and the byplay between them has been friendly, maybe neutral at worst. “You also haven’t told me why you don’t feed like we are meant to feed. Did someone break your fangs? Did they not grow? I’ve heard of that happening to some of us. No fangs… sad. I’d hate to have to bite hard enough to rip out a chunk. So much harder to lick the wound closed afterward… plus all the blood spilling…”

He closes his eyes and waits for her to begin cutting on him.

Dominique: Dominique sat there with scalpel in hand as the plan was appearing to change. He announced he wasn’t ready. She popped her hips back gently on the chair beneath her to send it rolling a foot or two away from the one sitting up since the tall and dark killer seemed to be ready to hop of the table he was currently on. A smirk started forming as her feet dropped to cease the movement of her slow travel backward. He was chickening out. Figures. A finger hooked under the ribbing of the glove covering HOPE and began to stretch the latex away so her hand could escape. She was disappointed. So much for getting paid to carve him up. Her hand began peeling the other free when both were given a reason to stop their movement.

The sound of a button popping in front of her unexpectedly had her eyes bounce up to discover the one that she expected to be backing out of the planned skinning was dropping pants in front of her. The snapping of latex against her wrist hardly distracted her from the show. The large boots were kicked away while the hiss of denim sliding down a set of long legs left no question that his statement was indeed fact. That and an eyeful of skin and dangling male bits. She placed the still gloved HOPE and LESS on her knees and pushed down while her body lifted from the seat beneath it. That clearly brought her a little closer as the now nude wall of muscle and eye candy took his original place stretching out back on the table.

Dominique felt the increase of cool air flow around her as he finally settled in. another bend and reach for the crisp white sheet in the bottom shelf of the cabinet didn’t take long. Nor did it require much effort for her to snap the full width of it open. Her hands allowed the material to float down over the top of him. Pulling it down to rest below the small of his back she was sure that would be enough covering for her as the business owner to avoid a citation in case some teeny boppers rolled in and lost their minds.

“I don’t need them.” Dominique was not in the habit of discussing her differences from the average vampire on the street. Perhaps it was left over denial that kept her from doing so. Maybe not. She never gave it much thought since she rarely discussed the vampire topic at all with anyone. “Thought we covered that?”

Looking over the ink pattern over the length of his back spent a few more seconds and once she was sure he wasn’t moving again she reached back for a handful of towels. They were going to be handy. The scalpel twirled between her fingers and she smiled down at him.

“No family. I come from New York. I am a Cancer. Element is water. I was on the run and this god forsaken place is what stopped me from getting farther. Hold still.” That was her only warning.

The edge of the scalpel went into the flesh beneath like a hot knife through soft butter. It was hardly what she had expected to happen. Dominique was not going to tell him that she had never done the work before. She observed it enough to feel comfortable leaving Ben downstairs and letting her handle it. No way would she leave her only artist capable of covering upstairs and down open for consuming. The path of red that surfaced was wiped away with a steady gloved hand. Gradually the blade did its work and soon there was the the first stages of the design oozing crimson over his back. all of that was rather easy. The next step would be the skinning. Her fingers finally shivered beneath the gloves when she took a break to change out the type of scalpel she would be using next.

A deep useless breath filled both of the shadows still lungs and with it came the full effects of the aroma of blood. It was so strong that she glanced over her shoulder oddly to see if anyone was currently on the second floor behind her. Why she did this she didn’t know.

“Peroxide. Soon as you get the blood on the material. Pulls it right out.” She glanced at him. “However, I doubt it is practical to carry around the amount of peroxide you would need to clean up your messes.” She brushed a towel across the large pool of blood forming over his back and feeding into the small river on the spine.

Trahir Trahison: “Creative, spontaneous, faithful, loving, emotional and protective… not a bad combination for a woman to be…” He winces as the blade bites in. The thought of her removing his skin doesn’t so much bother Trahir as he had decided to get this work done shortly after being disenthralled and creating his own lineage. Truth be told he was planning on doing the same to all who bore his blood. Pity his childe had be inept in this new life and had taken his own. Still, Corentine would be marked eventually. Trahir just hadn’t yet broken the news to her.

“Moody, pessimistic, over emotional, clingy, suspicious and nagging…” he says. “Also traits of Cancer… not quite so grand. Almost the polar opposite of my own sign. I saw you staring at my car. I’m assuming you…” he hissed as another chunk of flesh is removed. “I’m assuming you like cars? Have some appreciation for them?”

The blade parts his flesh easily enough and he is pleasantly surprised that she seems adept at her work. Trahir too has a pessimistic streak that runs through him deeply. He always expects other people to fail him, to disappoint. “”I’m entering her into the automotive show coming up. How do you think she will do?”

[Trahir Trahison]

--The following transcript was a live chat roleplay--

Dominique: The blade that will be responsible for essentially tunneling out the flesh between specific lines proves to be more to look at than the last one she had in her hand. HOPE sent another sweep of the towel in its grip across the carved skin and moved downward. Now she would begin the part she was increasingly looking forward to. Especially after recent events coupled with a list of negative traits pinned on Cancers. All of which she had been guilty of having at one point or another. Who had not?

Outside that Dominique felt like she was entitled to dig into Trahir’s flesh and take something away he couldn’t have back. The females cries for help did another tour of duty through her head. The need to get inside was growing stronger as he asked about that rare car on his farm. She could only assume some unsuspecting poor affluent ******** was behind the wheel before he pulled out his bag of dastardly tricks and had at them. Someone was always ready to take something just because it is there.

The sound of an engine turning over filtered through her brain and created a rush of exhilaration that she knew all too well. Who was she kidding. She was a thief as well. The only difference was she never left bodies behind or took the vehicles by force. Did it make her any better? Instead of answering her own mental question she continued to work.

Once the sound of the engine faded in her head she realized that he was asking about if she liked cars. Why did he want to know about her? Instead of asking she sent the new tool in her hand down and began a slow travel excising the flesh in its path. The loss of the tissue would mean that the healing to follow would form a nice deep crevice where it would be needed to create the raised definition desired on the over-all back piece.

“I doubt anyone around here will have set eyes on one before. So there is that and…” She paused and used the towel to soak up the blood. “It is rare. That will boost your chances. I won’t even ask where you found it.”

Taking a moment to roll back she tapped her elbow on a remote sitting on the tray. Dominique did better if music was playing when she had to focus. She wasn’t a talker. She had no issue communicating in general but she was carving up the guy who had her putting her hands around a chick’s dying neck not more than seventy-two hours prior. It was safe to say that she wanted to get some extra satisfaction out of this bloody mural she was digging into his back. The music fired up and the song couldn’t be more fitting leading the lengthy playlist.

“Music helps me focus.” The customer was always supposed to be right but in this case she was needing something besides the screaming in her head. She pulled out the long string of flesh from the center of the carved lines and dropped it in the waste basket next to her. “If you wanted that saved for anything like fang floss, a snack for later or to tie up your boots let me know and I will give you time to fish it back out.”

Trahir Trahison: The concentration required to allow someone to skin a large portion of your body in the name of art is beyond most people. Most humans have an instinctive reaction to pain, to flinch away, to remove oneself from the threat posed by slashing, cutting, stabbing. Blood is meant to be contained within arteries, veins, capillaries, not shed onto a table beneath a person. It is eerie and unnatural to see someone allow themselves to be mutilated to most. Trahir is an exception to this.

While his survival instinct is strong, his ego perhaps is stronger. While he doesn’t bear the same curse some others do which prevents them from backing down from a challenge, the young Killer does bear his own version of it. This woman, this vampire who can not bear to shed the blood of the innocent, she is going to show him she has the wherewithal to shed blood in at least one way. He knows the scent of his blood is stronger than that of a human, it’s effects much more insidious than the blood of one of the herd. Infused with the Darkness, the spiritual energy that supposedly animates the flesh born of spirit that makes up a vampire, the potency of the deep red liquid filling the air with it’s scent in comparison to human blood is like a fine scotch compared to a cheap beer. He knows it can be maddening and he knows in small quantities it is… almost addictive.

He lets her work quietly for a time, the strands of his flesh hitting the trashcan as she discards the dead and cast away tissue making wet slapping noises as they fall. Her choice in music in his opinion leaves much to be desired, but he has always detested music with lyrics sung by the sad and misguided people of the modern world. Give Trahir Bach, Mozart, or any number of classical composers and he will take it in, internalize the pain and love and hate hidden within the notes. Nowadays, music seems too on the nose. Like the artists are trying too hard to prove a point or slam their views into the heads of their audiences.

Once he heard at a concert a rant about the state of the union. A political dissertation revealing the opinion of the artists playing on the circular stage before thousands and thousands of gullible sheep. Trahir had been human then. He had walked out fifteen minutes into the concert. Trahir preferred to make up his own mind about the world around him. The opinions of others may be taken into account, but only if he had the opportunity to question their veracity. He had not had a microphone with which to debate the entertainers.

“That is newborn blood you are smelling. Intoxicating is it not?”

The statement and question out of the blue totally of topic, irrelevant to what they had been discussing was a careful calculation. He intended to inure her to horror, to shock, to fear maybe. None of those things will serve her well as a vampire. All of them are capable of getting her killed or caught. There is no lassitude for the damned. No chance to be slothful. They had to be ever aware. No room for error in the eternal dance of the immortals. He sees the Darkness in her, but so muted… a gloomy day when it should be as deep as the shadow cast by the unimpeded sun. The fact that it was true was nearly irrelevant to Trahir.

"Are we to have nothing tonight?" said one of them, with a low laugh, as she pointed to the bag which he had thrown upon the floor, and which moved as though there were some living thing within it. For answer he nodded his head. One of the women jumped forward and opened it. If my ears did not deceive me there was a gasp and a low wail, as of a half smothered child. The women closed round, whilst I was aghast with horror. But as I looked,they disappeared, and with them the dreadful bag.There was no door near them, and they could not have passed me without my noticing.They simply seemed to fade into the rays of the moonlight and pass out through the window, for I could see outside the dim, shadowy forms for a moment before they entirely faded away.

Then the horror overcame me,and I sank down unconscious.

Dominique: Dominique had been effectively pulling the pieces of flesh out and dropping them into the waste basket. As much as the guy was becoming questionable on every level she had set for evil there was something about him that was creeping through and registering with her. She tried to ignore it but it was increasingly hard to do so. A sweetness. It was unlike anything else. Beautiful really and yet it soured her deepest core to the point she strained to listen more intently to the music blasting overhead.

The music of TooL kept her motivated to press on through all the debriding of tissue. She rolled her shoulders alternately then leaned back into her canvas below. Whether Trahir appreciated it or not, and she wasn’t about to ask, she didn’t care all that much. It was working for her and so far that was all that truly mattered.

As soon as the music was getting to the best part and her foot began bouncing as if everything wrong up until that point had momentarily took some appropriate or inappropriate pause...his mouth opened and out rolled the last thing she ever expected to hear. Ever. In fact hearing the Pope was her father would have went over far better and with less surprise. That sweetness. He pinpointed it and she felt her hand stop in the layers of his skin as she absorbed the information.

Dominique watched as the blade sank deeper while her hand pressed down. HOPE plowed it forward taking double the amount of flesh that would be usually taken. Her jaw tightened while she exchanged air through her nostrils to block out more of that scent from rising within her.

Trahir Trahison: The reflexes of the Killer are as attuned as ever. The blade bites too deeply and he spins, hand catching her wrist in a vice-like grip. His eyes meet hers, cold and emotionless, the eyes of the dead. His face is a mask of indifference. “Careful girl. This is business. You don’t want to make is pleasure with too much bloodshed trust me.”

His hand does not relax as he sees this opportunity as a chance to see how much stronger than him the older vampire is. He is willing to lose a little footing now to gain more later by way of knowledge. The hand tightens on Jane’s wrist,Trahir puts everything into the grip and those dead eyes turn… reptilian. Blue lightens to green and settles on a golden hue as the pupil elongated and becomes a vertical slit. They actually gleam in the light. If Dominique is a fan of nature documentaries the effect is unmistakable. They are the eyes of a crocodile.

Crocodiles have been around in one form of another for tens of millions of years. They have not had to evolve, adapt, change to match their environment. They are opportunistic alpha predators where they swim, where the walk, where they tread. Whether it’s the muddy banks of the Nile, the mangrove swamps of Australia or the open seas as they island hop through Indo-Asia, the mammoth lizards are the dinosaurs of the modern age and anything and everything thinks twice about crossing their paths. Trahir is truly much like one of the reptiles. An ambush predator but with the attributes that lend toward open combat if need be. While he prefers subtlety and intrigue the Killer was born to his path for a reason.as several vampires throughout Harper Rock have discovered over the few short months he has borne this curse.

Jane is an older vampire and Trahir is aware she outmatches him overall. The differences though in this situation between them give him the edge. “Be careful Jane. This is not a battleground you want to engage on. Those sheep downstairs, your little friend Ben. Everyone in this mall… all of them are naught but meat to me. I used to be a fan of mince.” She’d made the mistake of thinking he had been bluffing before. It would be interesting to see if she thought he was now.

Surprisingly as she struggles against his grasp neither gain or lose ground. Trahir shows no outward sign of being shocked by this even though inside he is definitely perplexed. His eyes however do revert back to the cold blue human-like orbs as the aggression flees from him After a brief moment he releases her hand, casually dropping back to the table. “Do what you are being paid to do, we can hash out our personal differences later.”

Dominique: There was such a huge rush of power and need to move that blade farther down. Farther it went as she got into the moment and leaned closer in than ever before. Surely she had a larger blade. Part of her was feeling the pull to get her hands in there to dig deep and pull out whatever was at his core and feed it back to him. The scalpel was just about to drop in favor of being full hands on when the vice grip clenching of his much larger hand took hold of her wrist and interrupted the moment entirely.

Dominique was frozen. She could have moved. That was always a choice she reserved the right to act upon. Any other time she would have pulled him by the hand and neck and made a flesh rug out of his body. The only deterrent was that squeeze setting into the small bones that make up her wrist and something beyond that had her far more distracted.

Trahir’s eyes. She thought back to the sewers. She had seen something similar then as well. The shifters as she called them. Those that were able to turn into various animal forms. Jacob Regan was her first encounter with this power. She was still human and fighting the mounting odds for The Order. She went after him upon sight swinging and out of the darkness a wolf came forth with blinding speed attacking her.

It took her days to sort it out in her head. It would take less time to sink in that she was staring at a set of eyes that no one should be totally comfortable seeing in such close proximity. She didn’t blink. She certainly could bust a few moves and use her skills in martial arts but what would that get besides a naked bloody vampire on her *** fighting back and most likely Ben running up to find he was a unsuspecting happy meal.

Dominique used to be quick to trigger into violence. Many losses and failed attempts taught her what Doc had preached from day one before he finally took her down. Pick your battles wisely.

The shop owner's dark wide eyes slowly narrowed as she tried to pull her wrist from his grip. The eyes of depths and a darkness that she had never pondered before shifted back to the blue pools that likely found it easy work to beckon most. Her head inclined slightly then her wrist finally found itself free to snap back towards her after his warning to resume her work was delivered.

LESS massaged HOPE lightly then she rolled her shoulders back as if she could brush off the incident with such movement. Her lips lifted to a reserved smile as his body settled back to the previous position. She didn’t say a word as her scalpel found the layers of his flesh and went back to digging out more offerings to deposit into the wastebasket. His words were golden. They certainly would settle their differences later. She was glad he could see it coming just as much as she did.

[Dominique]

--The following transcript was a live chat roleplay--


Trahir Trahison: The incident showed Trahir a few things. He had been told he was strong for his age as a vampire, a fact he attributed to his workout regime prior to being turned, but he is surprised he was able to hold his own against an older vampire in that department. Physicality is all he knows true and when you put everything into one thing you tend to excel at it but he is still surprised.

“I don’t want to hurt you Jane. You are not on the menu. You are like me, you are meant for more than being another one of the mindless flock. I hope you can see it in time…”

He isn’t making the mistake of underestimating her. He knows her gifts in the blood run deeper and further than his own, he knows that while they may draw close to even in open combat, she has tricks up her sleeve beyond his own meager ken. At the same time he is determined to make her into the monster she is. To open the door to allow her to walk through it and down the path she is destined to.

“No doubt you think of me as an enemy, but I’m more of a friend than you know at this moment.”

The killer concentrates, committing to memory every cut the blade makes on his back while enjoying the scent of blood in the air, stole blood, so pure and innocent when he took it now laced with the Darkness within his own body.

“Call your tattoo artist up here a moment. I need him to look at the cut you made. The one you went too deep with.”

Dominique: There was something to be said for the guy. He either was used to calling the shots no matter where he was or he was not playing with a full deck. Dominique was willing to bet on both. The city was full of nut cases. She was one of them on some level. She was pretty sure Trahir Trahison was just a bit higher up on that totem pole so to speak. The roll of her chair sent the woman backward a few feet while he looked as if though he was expecting her to actually go fetch her employee. That was not going to happen. Whether or not her expression said it mattered little. She pulled the gloves off with the hooking of a finger to each opposite wrist and effectively removing the latex that covered her hands.

“I think at this stage the piece is needing to heal before we go to the next part which is tattooing the interior of the design, yes?” The gloves shot towards the wastebasket where countless strings of flesh were covering the empty Monster drink cans and the power bar wrappers. “And my artist has no reason to be critiquing my work. He works for me, not me for him. You don’t pay to tell me or my staff what to do, Mr. Trahison.” Her face bloomed lightly with what would typically be a customer pleasing smile. “I am confident you will find it was hardly a risk to your full back piece and if you are not completely satisfied at any point then you definitely know where to find me...don’t you?”

Dominique dropped the scalpels used in the industrial size sharps container and gloved back up reaching for another clean towel from the cabinet. If he was about to rise from the table he was going to be doing so while the residual blood was patted free from the compromised flesh. Turning she disposed of the towel and grabbed the massive jar of Vaseline that required her to use both hands to get it open. She used the clumps of petroleum jelly to smooth over the entire back using care to rub the product in the direction of the cut lines. Once that was completed she pulled out a large sheet of plastic wrap and gently pulled it over the length and width of his back allowing it to cling on its own to the skinned flesh beneath.

“Please remember to have someone do this again a total of three times in a twenty-four hour period. Do not go against the cut lines or rub back and forth. It will cause what is called blown out scarring and that is entirely up to you in how that turns out.” The gloves were again pulled off with a finger at each wrist, balled up and tossed to the top of the waste that she would take out as soon as she had the time.

“Depending on how quickly you heal we can plan on taking the next step to complete the work.” Her body sank back down to sit on the rolling chair she abandoned several minutes back. “Do you have any questions?”

The shadow watched him closely. If there was anything she didn’t cover she would be happy to address it if he asked. If he didn’t then she would be done with the work until it healed. Her petite shoulder inched back subtly and the small of her back stretched as she leaned back slightly. It went faster than she expected. Then again she was inspired. He had himself to thank for that.

Trahir Trahison: Persistence. There was a lot to be said for it. Jane had it is spades. Even now, missing a Rook and a Bishop about to be taken while sitting in check, she was slogging on determinedly in their battle of wills. Trahir almost smiles when she dismisses his demand to have the human downstairs come up. She is still protecting them. Some lessons should be learned once in life. Others, they should be relived. Trahir himself has erred the same way on several occasions but in general the harsher the lesson, the quicker it is learned. Dominique didn’t learn from the girl on the farm. He would teach her a different way how little she should care for her food.

He absentmindedly listens to the instructions. He knows what the scarring will look like and a meditative healing trance with ensure that the healing needed to be done is finished by tomorrow’s nightfall. Already his thoughts have turned to the next move in their game. He wants her other Rook. It is not time for the checkmate yet, and not time to take her Queen. No, Trahir is enjoying this game too much to let it end so quickly.

“Excellent,” he says, swinging off the table and pulling on his clothes, sans shirt. He gives Jane a long look and then nods, having apparently decided on something. “I’ll give you a couple nights to come around. When you see me next, we hunt.”

With that he heads toward the stairs, the scarification on his back visible for all to see. He walks with a resolute gait as he heads downstairs quickly, not even bothering to look back to see if she is following. As he passes by the office he detours, pulling out his wallet and thrusting a wad of cash at Jane’s assistant, the one she called Ben. As he does he makes eye contact with the young man, with his back to Jane, even were she following, wouldn’t see the eyes of the vampire flash reptilian as they had upstairs, she would only hear the amiably spoken, “Great job you two are doing here. Keep it up.”

The human reaching for the money would hesitate only an instant as his willpower was subsumed, enthralled for all time by the will of the monster before him. “Keep an eye on her, she’s a feisty one.” With a wink and nary another word, Trahir move toward the door and out into the market, his broad chest and scarred back drawing a seemingly equal amount of attention as his car no doubt in the parking lot he heads to.

Off into the night roars the 1925 Rolls leaving Jane and his new thrall Ben in his wake.

[Dominique]

Dominique: In a couple nights she was supposed to come around. No question as to if she was free or not or even interested? And come around for what? Dominique gets her answer as Trahir informs her that they would be hunting. Dark eyes track him walking in all his bare assed glory towards the small pile of what covered him before he nonchalantly peeled it off. As one long leg switched the task of balancing his weight to the opposite one she neglected to blink while those two statements sink in. What a piece of work this one was. He reminded her of another she knew quite well. That reflection inspired her black thin brow to lift slowly.

Trahir Trahison just proved he was higher up that crazy totem pole than Dominique first thought. Part of her ponders on informing him of as much while he leads the way towards the stairs that would deliver him closer to the entry door of her Honeymead shop. Her feet fall softly while the much taller killer moves along ahead of her clearing the route with less steps in his long stride than she takes in her own. She stays quiet. Anything she says will only prolong his presence and increase the possibility that more blood and flesh could be left to the open air of her business than she could currently afford.

Over the span of the last couple hours and even prior to this particular night they had discussed the topic of his idea of hunting enough that she was sure he had not missed her stand on it. No. The look in his eyes and the tone in his voice said he had not missed a single word she said. The dark head disappeared down the stairs and she followed the sounds of boots on the industrial steel flooring. She couldn’t believe he was serious but all the reasons to not doubt it were there. It was conveyed with as much confidence as she would expect him to say the boots he had recently slid his feet into were in fact his. They were as far as she was concerned. He wore them inside the shop to begin with.

Dominique’s jaw tightened as her body did a surprising detour turn to keep up with him heading towards Ben. What was he up to now? Her hand brushed the cabinet of the parts and vendor station when she passed it. Inside the metal drawer was a master blade that was nothing compared to her preferred blade but it was within reach and the sensation of her fingertips making contact with the furniture was a calming reassurance. A few more steps and she found herself right behind him and stopping quickly.

The shadow sized up his feet and current position. Her focus worked it’s way upward over the six feet plus wall in front of her. The tall ones were always a challenge yet fun to take down. She was going over the scenarios while his hands pulled money out of his wallet. Her head cocked, inclined and her body leaned to the side so that she could confirm it. The customer was paying her employee who sat at her desk while she carved him up with her own hands? Was this supposed to be another one of those moments where he was ignoring the point on purpose?

Dominique’s teeth lined up tighter as she watched Ben take the money as if he earned it. Her chocolate orbs narrowed considerably. Ben was going to find his windfall short and brief. As for Trahir, he could make up lots of things in his pretty head but there were limits and one of them was toying or worse than that with her employee. She knew how vampires worked. Or did she?

“Can you believe that guy?” Dominique barely turned around to catch a mile wide smile spreading quickly across Ben’s face. A smile was never on the guys face. He was on medication for his usually flat and at times sour mood the last time she talked to him during one of his frequent call-in’s at four a.m. “What the hell are you smiling for? That guy is bad news. Worse than that he is trouble on levels we can’t afford.” Maybe his meds were finally kicking in but part of her got the impression he didn’t see what she saw with the one that recently exited the shop. She leaned over the desk and HOPE seized the cash being counted in his hands. “And thank you very much.”

Ben lost his rare grin and soon sported the expressionless mug he was known for. Dominique would have felt like a ***** for putting it there any other time but Trahir was a monster of the darkest kind. He claimed he used newborns as juice pouches. Her face soured at the thought and seemed to inspire Ben to blink then grin again. Was he high? He wasn’t hearing her either? The human that was responsible for the warm cash curled up tight in her hands was clueless as to what she was as far as she knew. She stared him down for a few silent seconds then folded the money up and slid it into her right hip pocket.

“Do you know him?” Her voice sort of surprised her as she heard it ask. She was betting he didn’t but was getting some weird vibe that had her asking anyhow.
“Nope.” The grin was not disappearing on his face. “Never saw him before tonight. Cool guy if you ask me.”

Dominique felt her mouth go dry while her jaw stayed in the dropped position. Ben wouldn’t have reason to see things as she did. She could make allowances for that information missing to come to the same conclusion she had. It was that uncharacteristic smile that had her feeling increasingly uneasy. He was acting odd and she was becoming concerned. Ben was a guy who had enough on his plate to deal with. She overlooked his outside issues and hoped for the best. He made things easier around the shop and was a valued employee. She hoped to keep it that way for several reasons.

“So, what are you doing later tonight?” Dominique looked up and found he had moved in front of her slowly settling to sit his *** on her Han Solo carbonite desk. His heavily tattooed hands curled at the edge of the desk and slowly tapped the underside surface of where he was sitting. “You want to do something? Movie or something? It is on me.”

“Are you asking your boss out on a date, Ben?” Dominique didn’t even blink. He was hard to get out of bed let alone to work. Now the guy suddenly wanted to hang out? “You feeling okay?”
“Sounds like it.” The smile grew wider just when she was willing to bet it couldn’t. “What do you say?”
“Sit down, Ben.” She sighed and made her way around the desk to sit in her chair. “We really need to talk."

[Trahir Trahison]

Trahir Trahison: Later that night…

Having concluded his immediate business with Dominique it was time to give Ben time to work on her, to find out everything he can about her. To see if she will confide in the human things she should not. He’d met a vampire once who had...

In the mausoleum beneath one of the many headstones in the Old Town Graveyard, it's like a scene from any number of shock horror movies complete with digital camera's at each of the corners of the room, filming the action as it occurs.

THUNK

A thin trail of blood flies off the blade of the meat cleaver that glints in darkness broken only by candlelight.

THUNK

The blade drops again, severing the leg of what appears to be a body, removing it at the knee. The blade pushes the smaller portion aside to land in a bucket sitting beside the butcher's block. Blood flows out from the wound and down onto the floor, surrounding a pair of black rubber boots as it lazily crawls it's way toward a floor drain. A pair of severed forearms and fingerless hands lie steaming in another pail next to the drain. The temperature in the crypt is still uncomfortably cold from the winter, it helps with the smell. Not freezing cold, that would make washing it down difficult, cold enough to preserve a body a little longer, cold enough to be uncomfortable for humans. It matters little to it's owner how it feels.

CHUNK

The other leg of the body is severed, separated from the rest at the knee and again the blade pushes it aside and off the table into the bucket below. Trahir leans forward, face cast in a red hellish glow as he looks at his handiwork. The man is beyond screaming at this point. Passed out... again. Pity. Trahir enjoys the screams when no one else is around to hear them. He tightens the tourniquets on both legs and arms, those cut away at the elbow and reaches under the remaining torso of the human, lifting it up and walking over to a blood splattered corner of the room, setting the man down in a pool of dried blood. He pulls up a chair and sits down, leaning forward and waiting patiently. The chair straddles the drain, the buckets on either side of him showing the disembodied feet and hands peeking out from the top.

The man comes to slowly, agony flooding his features and Trahir, decked out in a butcher's apron made from what is obviously human skin leans forward toward him. Blood mats his hair and speckles his face, in his hands, the butcher's knife still caked in thick viscous and hardening blood.

"Tell me more about this little cult you are in Paul." Trahir licks the blood from the gleaming blade as he leans forward more, closer, his fangs showing in the dim light. "Tell me of this... Pratt."

The screams begin again.

The memory brings a small smile to the killer’s lips as he works the blade over the flesh of the young blonde woman he had brought up to his apartment in Veil Tower earlier that week. She had expected a night of passion and he had instead been passionate in a different way. Trahir enjoyed herpetology, it was one thing he had retained from his mortal life, a fascination with reptiles. He enjoyed them so much so that it seeped into him by way of the Shifter path and his selection of pets. Two Nile crocodiles, Gustave and Lolong, both of with were happily eating chunks of the blonde at that moment while Trahir relived his meeting with Robert Pratt months ago.

The body vanished as he was working on the man, Obviously Pratt had noticed his little beloved Paul missing...

Trahir stood from the chair, rage filling him at the interference even as the emotion fought with the satisfaction that he had gained the attention of the boy's master. Except from what the human had said 'master' wasn't right. Friend. Trahir composes himself slowly, breathing in deeply the scent of death and decay within the tomb. The blood, it makes the Darkness roil within him but it makes him feel so... tranquil. Reptilian eyes, those of a crocodilian glance around. The buckets are still full. That's interesting. Something to note in his journal. He had expected as much really of people summoned would appear in a slough of dead skin cells shed throughout their lives.

He continues breathing deeply and slowly, those golden eyes with their alien and predatory vertical slits lighten, taking on the more natural and familiar blue hues Trahir was born with. He had gotten some of what he had wanted, the location he had gleaned by reading one of the texts he found in a subway station. A vampire teaching a pseudo-religion to humans… all the while letting them know what he was. The entire idea was anathema to Trahir, he couldn’t wrap his head around befriending one’s food so he had taken matters into his own hands. Well, under his own knives really. Stripping down and out of his blood sodden clothing he walks to another section of the tomb and turns on the garden hose tied into the graveyard’s sprinkler system. He lets the cold water blast over him washing away the telltale traces of his work before making his way to the living area,

The living area is a stark contrast to the rest of the abode. Within it are all the comforts of an avid reader and spartan socialite. The furniture is rich and comfortable, not opulent, but tastefully refined. He dressed in his leathers in case the man, Pratt has discovered his location and then exits the tomb in case he hasn’t. Plan for the worst and hope for the best is one of Trahir’s mottos. He prefers the leather for combat since it helps absorb some of the blow from being hit and more importantly, if it gets scarred it adds character. Out into the stillness of the graveyard he goes, glancing around to see if anyone is nearby.

He sees a man approaching, the sense is vampire. Yes. The shadows are fleeing from him… Angry vampire. That purposeful stride… well then… perhaps this is the meeting Trahir had been wanting come right to one of his doorsteps. Wouldn’t that be sublime? Of course the odds are that this is just another resident coming home, but… we shall see.

Thrusting his hands into his pockets Trahir walks toward the entrance of the graveyard casually, as fortune would have it… toward the newcomer.

Trahir watched the figure standing, inhaling. The guy was definitely looking for something and Trahir can pretty much guess what it is. He makes his way over, sauntering toward him with a nonchalant grace attained through years of sports and physical training, there is an inherent arrogance to his motions. He looks for all the world as if he is simply going to meet with a man to talk about the weather. Trahir looks completely at ease. He knows the other vampire is older than him. Hell, the book Trahir found pre-dated his embrace by a long shot. He does however bank on the knowledge that he himself is an unknown quantity.

When he gets within earshot he says in a dull voice. “Most people have to read the headstones. Few can find them by scent. I haven’t seen you around here before stranger. What are you searching for?”

As Lolong gags down a well shaped leg and Gustave does the same with a slender arm, Trahir breaks from his revery and walks out of the croc’s room. He pushes the heavy door closed behind him and walks nude through the apartment across the hall, bloody footprints left on the hardwood as he goes. He replays their conversation in the graveyard in his head. The other vampire had prattled on much as Dominique had but Trahir hadn’t had the confidence then in his abilities. He was still fairly ‘fresh’ when he had met Pratt. This time was different. Dominique was different. Pratt, he had been more than a little insane. Dominique, she wasn’t crazy, she simply needed her eyes opened to the Darkness within her. Trahir intended to provide her with the help that required.

He had failed with Pratt and had written the man off as a delusional zealot beyond aid. Still, his attitude made him dangerous to the Masquerade. Trahir figures he and the rest of Tytonidae will eventually run into him. It wouldn’t be, Trahir knows, Robert’s first encounter with the Owls. That was fine, Pratt had thrown away his potential. He would make sure Dominique did not do the same.

Privately he was rooting for her in this little game of spy vs. spy. He hoped she gave Ben nothing. Trahir would much prefer to kill the human than the vampiress.

[Dominique]

Dominique: Each time the sound of the engine fired up it was like a monster was born and let let loose all over again. Dominique’s prized rat rod was a creation of her hands alone beneath Vita Bella in the underground garage. It was a beast of mechanical creation for good reason. It was a combination of everything that should for practical purpose never be found in a single vehicle.

The Twisted Sister custom black coupe came to life thanks to the heart of a 1952 Diamond-Reo tractor that was dropped into the body of a 1931 Ford. A straight six produces 1600 ft/lbs of torque and the finishing visual touches happen to be the flames that the demon of an engine blows out as she commands it to perform down the highway. There was no angle spared in the masterpiece of the car she was entering in the upcoming car show. The airbrushed roof had her image represented and the back end sported a set of bleeding lips.

This time the shadow was pushing her treasured car faster than ever before. The deafening roar of power beneath her stimulated every sense left to experience. It wouldn’t matter that when she arrived that she would be covered in a black fine exhaust thanks to the open windows. She would wipe it all off without a care. Once inside and after completing the registration process she would make sure that whoever was intending to take the keys knew that there was a state of the art alarm and security system on it. The keyholder would be informed that if someone so much as adjusted the rearview mirror she would be on site.

Dominique stood in the underground parking where Ben was due to pick her up. She pulled out her cell phone to check if something came up that would delay him. The screen was clear and slowly HOPE tucked it back in safely in her denim front pocket of her jeans. A familiar sound came slowly behind her and she turned where she was standing. The mile wide white grin was behind the windshield of a 2015 black and white standard smart car. It was dark but not dark enough to miss the fact that soon she would be sliding her *** into what was basically a roller skate with front and rear bumpers.

“What the ****…” Dominique mumbled as she went around to the passenger side of the car.
“Sure you don’t want to drive her?” His long sun-kissed fingers wiggled on the steering wheel as he appeared ready to hop out and turn over the reins.
“Jesus, Ben. Why didn’t you tell me I wasn’t paying you enough?” HOPE closed the door once she was inside and as petite as she was her body sank a little deeper down.
“Awww…” Ben chuckled as the car took off through the underground parking. “C’mon it isn’t that bad is it?”
“The car or that I agreed to ride in it?” Her index finger hooked the seat belt and stretched across her chest to fasten at the opposite hip. “Don’t take it personal. Seriously...let’s take it to Vita Bella. will trade you straight up for the rally sport that the dumbass didn’t come pick up two weeks ago and surrendered. I will have it running by morning and you can take it.”
“You know what?” Ben looked both ways while signaling left to exit onto the street. “I like this car even more now. I am only interested if you throw in your babygirl.”

Dominique was fiddling with her phone until Ben proved he was not in his right mind. If he was then he was not half as funny as he thought he was. the cell disappeared back into her pocket and she nudged him with LESS in the shoulder.

“Not happening...ever.” The click of her releasing the seatbelt was the only signal the driver would get that she was on the move while the car was in route out of town. “How much space do these things really have? I swear there has to be a rip cord or pulleys for the ejection seat in case someone spots you driving or riding in one.”

Dominique was small enough that she wiggled between the two seats and was digging around for hidden compartments. As much as she knew about cars this was actually one yet to be discovered. Curious she was by nature and now it was the car that was being subjected to her scrutinizing eyes.

“You can say what you want but the more you do the longer the ride will be back home.” His eyes drifted over his shoulder to catch her backside that was hard not to miss while the rest of her was pulling at various possible release hooks behind his seat. “Nice view, Dom.”

As soon as she heard the sounds of skin and material she quickly set her *** back down in the passenger's seat and glared. He was not fast enough and she was less than amused that his cell came to view.

“You really have been acting weird lately. I need to get this out and hopefully we can figure out what to do about it.” Dominique hated that they had to have this talk again but it was needed. The man was way off from his norm and she didn’t like it one bit. “You..”
“I know what you are going to say…”Ben was already jumping in and interrupting. “And I know it was a little over the top to use Vader’s entry door…”
“Hold up, Ben.” LESS was already front and center less than five inches from tapping him on the side of his head. “It is a ******* doggie door! My pets go in and out of it. It is not some error on your part such as I dunno...coming in the back gate. You were there sleeping on the floor when I was getting ready to go to bed.”
“I was stuck! I couldn’t move.” Ben finished the full stop and took a right. “Damn good thing you came in when you did. And where do you go that you are all tired and go to bed as soon as the sun comes up? It doesn’t make sense.”
“None of your business, Ben.”Her voice was sharp and quick to respond. “I don’t want you using my doggie doors, okay? You need to be invited to come over. I catch you sleeping in my tent I may set it on fire. You get the picture? This **** is really weird, Ben. It kind of comes under the description of stalking. I am not cool with it at all. Some might find it sexy or whatever but it is just as creepy as all hell. Also, you need to quit reading my mail. I know you been doing that too. Steaming the envelopes open then using Elmer’s glue to reseal them is not a slick trick.”
“****!” Ben sighed.”How the hell…” The car nearly hiccuped to another stop. “Nevermind you could tell it was Elmer’s glue so I am not going to even try explaining the **** to you.”
“Yeah.” Her index finger stroked the line of her lower jaw. “So, if it is those meds or whatever can we agree the creepy antics are going to stop?”
“Fine.” the black and white rollerskate big enough to fit the two of them inside picked up speed. “Can you answer a simple question though?”
“If the topic ends afterward, yes.” Dominique lifted her hips to fish out her cell phone from her pocket.
“Wasn’t that Traheem guy the **** or what?” Ben sounded like a dimwit fresh off the beach in southern Cali with at least a day and a half of hard core smoking under his hemp belt.
“Stop the car, Ben.” Dominique was already pivoting her body while HOPE pulled the door handle. The car abruptly stopped and she hopped out. “See you later Ben.”

HOPE shut the door and the shadow disappeared before he could search the nearest shadows for a trace of her.

[Trahir Trahison]

Washing the blood and gore from his body in the shower Trahir thinks back to his conversations with Dominique. The scarification on his back healed with stolen blood has left him thirsty, it's a struggle to keep his eyes from shifting as the sticky blood, already coagulating on his skin sloughs off and spirals into the drain pipes. He wouldn't be surprised to walk past the sewer outlet under the streets and see the red tint of blood flowing fairly steadily from Veil Tower. Enough vampires live here to turn an ocean red when the rinse the remainders of the night away.

That is... if these vampires actually were like vampires. Most of them weren't. Most that here had seen were the equivalent of superheroes with fangs talking about saving the world one human at a time. That was how he had met Jane. She hadn't been wearing spandex with underwear on the outside of her pants like Supergirl, but she had been one of the 'heroes' all the same. Trahir hated that. Superheroes and wannabe Lotharios and Aphrodites. Pathetic creatures. Trahir had embraced his new-found place as a monster with zeal and vigor. He crept through the night taking that which flowed the the veins of the human cattle wandering through their lives aimlessly and using it to quicken his walking carcass of a body.

"Vegan vampires...," he mumbles under his breath as he cuts off the shower, steam filling the air of the large and immaculate bathroom. "Useless." He steps out and grabs a towel, patting himself dry and checking every so often to make sure the towel remained white. It wouldn't do to walk outside having missed a spot of blood on himself. That type of mistake attracts attention.

After dressing in a pristine white suit with a blue shirt under it he heads out quickly, making his way down to the garage. This car show is coming up quickly and he means to enter the 1925 Rolls-Royce Phantom 1 Jonckheere Coupe in it.

His dress shoes echo off the pavement of the parking garage as he makes his way to the machine and opens the door by key. There are no modern additions to the car to offend the sense of originality. Everything about the car looks as though it just came of the lot 90 years ago when it was released in may. The car is a thing of beauty with its round doors, stylized body and powerful straight six engine. Trahir saw it and had to had it. He had enthralled the previous owner and had the man sign the title over to him for a true bargain on Trahir's part. The car had literally been a steal. Of course a month later the poor man met with an accident and Trahir, the guy’s best friend had inherited the man's estate including the family farm and an apartment in West Tower.

Trahir loved shopping for real estate that way.

The engine comes to life with the turn of the key and the big car rumbles out from it's hiding place and out into Harper Rock's streets, inevitably attracting stares from auto aficionados as it rolls onward toward Groom Center, it's temporary home while the car show is underway.

As he drives down the road he sees a familiar shape exiting a simply horrid vehicle that looks similar to a shoe box with wheels. Jane, interesting. Trahir keeps running into the woman at every turn it seems. He watches as she disappears into the shadows, literally and laughs softly to himself. Good to know she can do that. Might save his life if she decided to grow claws on him during their little game. Trahir has claws too though. Still, the display is a reminder that Jane is not a prey animal, she too is a predator and the only thing giving Trahir an edge is his level of comfort with what he is. A lesson learned in blood and death and pain.

He resists the urge to honk at her as he passes, confident that she will have seen the rare car without trying to draw her direct attention.

A few more street flow by outside the window of the Rolls before he arrives at his destination.

He hands the keys over to the valet and fills out the necessary paperwork before walking away from Groom Center, leaving the beauty to be placed where it will.

Hunger by now is gnawing at his belly, he is near frantic on the inside, climbing the walls of his own dead body as the Darkness reigns within. His concentration is intense though, enough for the moment to match the thirst and keep his eyes from changing into those cold predatory orbs of the vampire's favorite animal. He needs to hunt. Exhilaration at the thought rises in tandem with the thirst pounding through his head. His throat feels parched even though he knows in is in his mind only. If his heart yet beat it would be accelerating in tempo at the thought of slaking his thirst on a warm neck.

Tonight he wants something more challenging than a gangster... he has a thirst for Paladin blood.

The Oracle. That is where he needs to head. The mall where the woman seems to reside is mere blocks away from Groom Center and the well-dressed vampire makes his way quietly down the street. Humans move away from him, sensing something from him that reaches their lizard brains, some primordial instinct to avoid a predator. For his part, he battles his own instincts to gorge himself on the herd in the middle of the street. Finally he reaches the mall and looks around seeing her, a middle aged homeless woman dressed in old fashioned clothing, well worn caked in dirt. Trahir approaches her and stand before her wordlessly.

She looks up at him with her thin, grubby face and stretches out a filthy open palm. "Mr. Trahison, once again a pleasure. Do you have something for me?" If you wish to know where something important is about to happen in the city, she can tell you, and asks for $1000 in return. It is a good deal by Trahir's reckoning and he hands the money over wordlessly, after extracting it from his wallet.

"Ah, good, good. Such a helpful boy..." Her eyes meet his deadpan expression and she smiles. "Always so serious. I think that you will find something by the junkyard that will make you smile..."

Trahir nods to the filthy woman and turns, heading west across the street toward a nearby alley between two commercial buildings. As soon as he is out of sight of the human flock he pushes the vampiric energy within his cold, dead blood and propels forward, moving so quickly he is not even a blur as he runs. The wind whips by almost feeling solid the rate of travel so quick and an instant later he is across the street from the junkyard.

Sure enough, his prey stands there. Almost as if waiting. Perhaps he was, Trahir wouldn't put it past the Oracle to set such an encounter in motion, profiting from them both and knowing only one would survive. At this time of night the area is dead. No homes within sight and all the plant and industrial workers gone home for the night. The air is still while the Paladin and vampire eye each other. There is no words exchanged, much like two predatory animals engaging, there is a snarl from the vampire and a roar from the tattooed human as the rush forward, the Paladin drawing a large sword as he dashes forth.

Trahir draws no weapon, eyes locked on the prey ahead of him he runs full tilt, sharpening his perception to supernatural levels and waiting to see which way the Paladin with swing.

The sword arcs out from the side, intended to be a sweeping blow, likely an attempt to decapitate Trahir in one swing. The vampire dashes forward, fingernails turning into claws as he leaps forward into a roll, his hands coming up together into the flesh of the legs, high up on the man's thighs below his balls. The man's clothing, flesh and muscle part, but most important, the femoral artery on both legs split under the razor sharp talons of Trahir. His weight collides with the Paladin, driving him off his feet and Trahir lands heavily atop the man as his sword clatters uselessly to the ground where he had been swinging it.

The vampire lands two powerful blows and then rises, looking down to his stunned foe before stepping back and shifting into his animal form. A huge crocodile, a Nile croc, 15 feet in length. He high walks over to the man, leaning his head to the side and catching his head in his powerful jaws before turning and lumbering northwards toward the river. Fresh blood erupts out from the Paladin's punctured face and head and over the croc's tongue, the man starts to struggle once more and Trahir shakes him viciously side to side, bones cracking and popping in the man's neck as he is manhandled by the huge reptile. The croc then drags its prey to the water’s edge without further struggle and slips into the river, disappearing under the tide with it's catch. In the depths of the night, the near pitch black water being turned murky red is nearly impossible to see.

Trahir feeds.