Soccer and Skateboards [Invite]

[Rhett Keyes]

After Retrokade being open for a few weeks and it being the talk of the teens on the street, Rhett decided to make his 'move' so to speak with wrapping in his thing, with a shelter. His hope was to have a place for teens and young adults to go to after his place closed down for the night. Ideally, Rhett would have liked to expand Retrokade out and probably would, but right now he couldn't afford it.

His hope had been that anyone who came to his place during the day would be guaranteed a bed at night, but hopes and realities were two very different things. Apparently the homeless population was far bigger than Rhett anticipated, and so no one wanted to play the game of, 'I need ten beds tonight, but twenty tomorrow.' And no one wanted to promise a bed to Rhett and the teens and not have them show up, when other people were waiting at the door. He understood it on their side, but it didn't make Rhett feel any better. So now he was stuck with a problem. He could offer them a place during the hours of nine until 10 at night, but Rhett couldn't get them off the streets when the real problems went down.

After having to close up Retrokade without any input on where the kids should go, other than a few name drops or 'try here,' Rhett locked up for the night, stuffed his hands in his pockets and headed for home. It wasn't a long walk, not that Rhett minded a walk, even in the crisp, autumn air that started to loom over the city. The sound of wheels on the concrete street drew Rhett's attention inwards, a small grin etched on his face. Everywhere he turned or went, something reminded him of Retrokade and how tied his hands were on genuinely helping the youth in the city. He watched a guy in his early twenties zip by on the board, before Rhett took an unexpected detour from his set location. His goal was to head to the northern parts of the city limits and check out a different avenue. A rehabilitation center, that might have some space and beds, even if for a small fee. No avenue was out of the question, Rhett decided, as he headed towards the Gullsborough district.

[Diego Santos (DELETED 7309)]

Giving something back to the community was one of those necessary evils when you became even half-way close to local celebrity status. Diego didn’t mind charity work, that wasn’t the problem. His home town of Sao Paulo presented a million different opportunities to dig deep and lend someone a helping hand, and he’d always enjoyed doing it. When his brother was still around, they used to do it together. All the Santos brothers ever really knew was sport – having no real interest in traditional education or any kind of business sense – so travelling down to the local community centre to devote some time to teaching kids how to play football, learn how to swim, or even how to run track, just became one of those recreational pass-times. Diego had only really been a kid himself at the time too, so he could connect with these kids on a more personal level and hadn’t given any thought to it being charity work. It was only as Diego got older, when his time and choices became limited, that the Brazilian’s perspective changed. He still didn’t mind the idea of helping people out in whatever way he could, but there was something about this corporate obligation that turned him right off.

Call him sentimental, but Diego believed that companies and individuals should do the right thing because they actually wanted to do so, not because it looked good to do so. He actually kind of hated those people, figured they were vapid and fake and totally self-centred. Not that he was any better; he was just vapid, fake, and totally self-centred in different ways. So the Brazilian was in two minds about what to do when his manager, Frank Granger, had informed the team about an upcoming charity event. They were obliged to attend because Frank had already had the fees paid for by the company that was putting on this big shindig, but at least they could invite up to two guests of their choice. Many of Diego’s teammates were excited at the idea of going to some fancy dinner, they’d even boasted about dragging along a hot date because, of course, the media would be there. Harper Rock’s Soccer Club was actually gaining a bit of attention recently after a string of victories had rocketed them out of the bottom set and into prime positions. They had a ways to go yet if they were going to be stealing victories out of the teeth of international clubs, but it was a living dream beyond their expectations at the start of the year.

With the pressure of his manager and team mates combining with the suffocating presence of the media, Diego felt deeply conflicted about attending the event. He didn’t want to go for several reasons, but if it was for a good cause, and if they were actually going to raise enough funds to get kids off the streets and into positive activities, then he should go. Probably the biggest thing that was worrying Diego about the event was the question of whether inviting Azraeth would be a good idea or not. The Brazilian’s first instinct was to ask his boyfriend to attend, obviously, but then he remembered that said boyfriend was a Vampire, that his team knew Azraeth as his cousin William, and that no one in Harper Rock was actually aware that Diego was that way inclined. Not that he was that way inclined, exactly. It was more that Azraeth had totally ruined him with that princely smile and that sense of humour, his magnanimous intellect and experiences, and quite probably all that magic stuff too. Diego didn’t want to claim that Azraeth had put him under an actual spell, but, it would go some way to explaining how Diego felt about the other man...

The conflictions had been swirling in the Brazilian’s head for a couple of days already, but he was no closer to coming up with an answer. To distract him from thinking, and because he had to attend the gym on a daily basis anyhow, Diego decided that he would run a few miles on the treadmill tonight. The sun had just touched down beyond the horizon by the time the Brazilian had arrived at the public gym. The rush-hour was teetering away, where the hour a day to keep the fat away types left the dedicated and the vain to work away in relative peace. Either way, Diego had his music player on to detach him from the world around him. A little bit of Calvin Harris would stop those uncomfortable thoughts from plaguing his mind…

[Rhett Keyes]

Rhett figured out too little too late that he should have called first. Something like this probably required a meeting, and was actually implied when he showed up at the Rehabilitation center after hours. Well past after hours. It couldn't be helped, the whole vampire thing, but that didn't mean that the rest of the world understood, cared of catered to his kind. A hard reality that Rhett was finding truer and truer every day. It felt like the world was blockading him and his attempts to do something useful and beneficial for the world. If Rhett were the superstitious sort, he would believe it to have been a sign. First the shelter and now a basic line of 'if you wish to talk to the guy in charge, you need to schedule an appointment during office hours,' speech from some low level paid worker. Rhett could and did understand, but that didn't mean he didn't feel a form of frustration growing inside of him as he was once again screwed with his plans.

As Rhett walked away from the rehab center, and crossed it off his mental list of things to do, he sighed and shook his head. How could it be so difficult to do something nice and beneficial for the city? It was almost as if the city was destined for failure and destruction when Rhett thought about it. The city was going to hell, and was taking everyone along for the ride it seemed. Rhett pulled out his phone and scrolled through google maps to see if there was any other place nearby that he could check out, or utilize to his benefit; or the benefit of his business and found a couple places. Some gym and then some sports shop that was closed by now, he imagined. Or would be by the time he got there. Just to double check, Rhett clicked on the link to take to the home page and while he waited for it to load, he glanced at the time on his watch. Almost nine p.m. When the page loaded, sure enough, as Rhett suspected, the store was about to close at nine.

The gym it was. Rhett backed out of the website to the sport store that he might contact tomorrow to see if he could get some supplies at a slightly discounted price, if he bought a decent amount of whatever he needed and looked back at the city street map he was standing on. He needed to head west, but as to not waste his time, Rhett looked to see what time the gym closed-if it even did. When he got to the main page of the gym, it seemed the place was open for a few hours, and maybe, just maybe, someone was looking for some quick cash under the table for some weekend daytime work. Nothing crazy, just someone who could take the teens to a field to bat, the local park to play some basketball because Rhett just couldn't. Neither could Dhara. So, he headed west to the gym, hopeful to get some sort of lead or anything from the place.

[Diego Santos (DELETED 7309)]

When Diego had first come over to Harper Rock from the sun-bleached city of Sao Paulo, Brazil, he had spent most days outfitted as though he were a visiting Eskimo surrounded by pasty-skinned seals. Fur linings and a multitude of layers had made getting dressed – and undressed – something of a chore, however, which occasionally turned from spectator sport to group participation effort when those thermal layers just refused to peel from his skin before a training session. Nobody had liked the idea of helping the Brazilian undress, but if they wanted him on the field to make them look good, it was one of those necessary evils they just had to grin and bear – not unlike a prostate exam, which was ironic for several reasons. Just one year later and a lot of things had changed. Diego’s relationship with his team had moved forward in a positive manner – one might even suggest they were working like a family unit – and it seemed like his body was finally acclimatising to the severe temperature difference too – allowing him to wear just a single layer even in the Fall. It wasn’t perfect by any stretch of the imagination, but it was comfortable, it was liveable, and it was often very happy. Of course, the problem remained about how Diego was going to let his two worlds gel in a way that wasn't going to be a complete drama fest for the media, but that problem was effortlessly being put aside again when he had run for roughly two hours on the treadmill and was now on his way to the showers to cool off.

The scent of chlorine was thicker near the showers, washing up his nostrils and sitting heavy on his lungs, and not merely because the swimming pools were off from the changing rooms. Well, at least the smell masked the stench of body odour. Mostly. Diego might have clung to a hope that, seeing as how it was fairly late in the evening for most people to be hitting the gym, that he could take his shower in peace. Unfortunately, this was proving to be one of those days where the Brazilian was expected to compromise. Beyond the hiss of water, the box-like changing room was invaded by the lyrical timbre of a male voice singing away to Make it Rain by Fat Joe and Little Wayne – not the Brazilian’s favourite song, but maybe it was appropriate given the location? Showers. Rain. Ok, maybe not. Diego sighed, this exasperated noise whining out of his mouth like it too had an attitude problem. The Brazilian slung his sports bag on the bench and began the natural routine of disrobing. With 'being easily distracted' just one more of his problems, Diego took at least three minutes to peel himself out of his training gear, wrap a towel around his waist, toss his sports bag in a locker, and with soap in hand, headed for the shower. In the back of his mind, Diego had been hoping that someone had just left a faucet on and maybe a stereo, but at least he wasn’t too bummed out when he realised that there was only one other dude there and they were quickly finishing up. The Brazilian wouldn’t be able to testify in a court of law just what exactly had prompted it, but when the guy passed him on the way out, Diego nodded his head and smiled at him…

At least now that he was alone, he could be alone with his thoughts. Perhaps it was best to make this shower a quick one then. Skin warm, flushed from effort, and heavily inked found the pulsing spray of water to be an absolute delight as he stepped in under the faucet. Facing the torrent, eyes closed and head up to let the scalding water stream over his face and body, the Brazilian took a few moments to just stop and let his mind go blank. It was strangely satisfying, numbing, but that was before he remembered – again – that this was a public shower and not his own personal suite to doze away in for hours. The key was to get in, get washed, and get the **** out of there. Maybe he could make something of his evening after he was done here, maybe he could stop being such a coward and actually talk to Az about these things that had been torturing him for days. It made sense, didn’t it? To talk **** through with that person you loved. Communication was the essential part of any relationship, next came understanding, and after that was compromise. Diego convinced himself that he could do these things, if he tried, if he wasn’t being such a coward. Maybe he would text the man when he stepped out of the showers, arrange to swing by and have that potentially awkward conversation. Hopefully, that would be the only awkward thing to deal with tonight.

[Rhett Keyes]

When Rhett got to to the gym, what he saw was pretty much what he expected at his time of the night. A couple night 'owls' so to speak, and the staff. No more than six people total in the gym. There was a guy in the way back, lost in his own world, watching the news while running his heart out on the treadmill. The sound of someone splashing around in the pool off in a side area caught his attention and then there was the sound of showers being turned off. So, three people, maybe four.

But where was the staff member? Rhett realized once his eyes landed on the desk and stopped bouncing around the width and length of the room. "Hello?" Rhett grumbled out as both his hands came to the desk and pressed down on it. He looked around for a bell to ring, but couldn't see any sign of one. Probably because typically, the place wasn't left abandoned. Why add an extra expense when you have people 'standing guard' more or less? Paying them to make sure only members came in.

There was a gurgling sound that Rhett heard as he turned to his side, the desk not brushing against his hip as Rhett searched for the person who either wore the name of the gym on a shirt, or looked like they knew what was going on. No one fit that bill still. The noise drew Rhett in again, so much that Rhett went past the forbidden entry point of those who were not members and those who were. What was making that sound? Rhett knew he had heard it before, but he just couldn't remember where.

That was, until he stepped around the bend of the counter and almost slipped in a slick substance on the floor. His arms shot out in an attempt to keep his balance in check, as his eyes cast down to see what the slippery stuff on the floor was. There, on the linoleum, tiled flooring was a small tributary of blood flowing from a woman who was on the floor, holding her neck with both hands. Rhett didn't need to be a rocket scientist to put two and two together and figure out that she was trying to keep anymore blood from coming out of the injury in her neck. "Hey!" Rhett shouted as he scrambled around the counter and then behind it to help the woman as best as he could. He needed to apply some serious pressure, but Rhett was almost worried that if he did that, he might crush her wind pipe and suffocate and kill her anyways. "HEY!" Rhett bellowed out again, hoping to grab someone's attention before it was too late.

[Diego Santos (DELETED 7309)]

It was when he was walking back into the changing rooms that he heard the commotion. At first Diego didn’t think anything about it; people were sometimes loud in the gym. For some, it was just how they got their groove on. For others, the competition between friends and rivals just got heated to the point they let that excitement spill over with thunderous triumph – not entirely unlike an erupting volcano. The Brazilian was pretty much accustomed to loud noises, rambunctious males, and not always understanding the general culture of the people around him. Thus, he decided to concentrate on drying himself off and getting dressed. It was when he’d pulled on a pair of stone chinos and white socks that he heard the next call for aid. This time, however, Diego stopped what he was doing and paid attention. The harrowing coarseness of that voice, the way it climbed over the sound of heavy music and thumping machines like it was desperate for escape or acknowledgement, made the Brazilian finally begin to fret. He rejected the idea of ignoring it, of wasting any more time, and hurried over to where he’d heard that voice.

By now the gym seemed all but deserted. He’d run past a young man on a treadmill set up in the far corner; his headphones blocked the world of sounds, and the TV he had his eyes set to blocked the rest so he certainly hadn’t been the one to call for help. There had been someone in the swimming pool; he’d heard their splashing as he’d passed from the showers to the changing area, so Diego suspected that the swimmer either hadn’t heard the call for help, or just didn’t care and didn’t want to be involved. He also vaguely remembered there being a number of staff on call tonight; the large, sun-worshipping bald man and the petite blonde with the enlarged chest. But there was also that brunette on reception. She was the sporty sort, but a little plain looking, so was easy to forget. Of course Diego didn’t know their shifts – he wasn’t remotely perceptive enough to remember their names even despite his almost daily visits – but it did seem suspicious to him that he couldn’t see a single one of them as he’d sprinted to the main area of the gym.

Perhaps it was his heightened sense of the physical, the biological, that made him aware of the heavy scent of iron in the air, or maybe it was all that time spent with Azraeth that made the Brazilian Sorcerer just that much more connected with blood – Diego wasn’t sure. He did know that there was a substantial dose of it though, and he sniffed out the source effortlessly enough. All it took was for him to realise that it was coming from his immediate right, and when he turned his head, he saw it; a crimson carpet spreading across the linoleum. Shock turned the fluids in his body to ice, but he was determined to see what had happened, to see if there was anything he should do. Of course, there was that voice in the back of his head telling him that the first thing he should do was get the **** out of there. He shouldn’t be getting involved in this kind of thing. The last thing his reputation needed right now was some hint that he could be involved in a murder. But what if he’d run away, was caught, and got branded a coward instead? That wouldn’t help matters either and since a gym like this must have had CCTV, someone would get their hands on that evidence eventually.

Ultimately, Diego made the decision to investigate and as he sprinted forward to help and/or incriminate himself in a God awful mess, he realised that he wasn’t a first responder or lone killer. Green eyes made contact with an unlikely pair; the brunette receptionist and a man he had never seen here before. The man was knelt, huddled over the woman. There were two pairs of hands wrapped around her neck, but it didn’t halt the blood. In it all, Diego couldn’t help but notice that the unknown male could have been his doppelganger; both men had that bronzed skin tone, fashionable stubble, and ample amounts of tattoos. The only difference seemed to be their apparent age where the footballer still had that doe-eyed, glossy youthfulness about him, and the stranger had a more rugged and mature appeal. Despite the awkwardness, Diego made his way over, skidding in the slick blood as he knelt in next to the other man. The Brazilian didn’t have a plan, though, just a question which came punching out of him.

“What happened?!”

It was the obvious question in the situation, but not necessarily the most helpful one. It was obvious what had happened just by glancing at the scene; she was bleeding out from a wound on her throat. Did it really matter how it got there? Did it matter who was to blame? **** no. But the Brazilian wasn’t thinking clearly in that moment. His heart was pounding in his own ears, rising up his throat like a hot liquid. He had to gulp hard to get it to trundle back into the centre of his chest. His hands were shaking, so full of nervous energy that each vibrating atom could be felt dancing, but he reached out anyway and touched the woman’s arm. Green eyes held a look of grave concern before he broke her gaze and looked to the male.

“Never mind. Did you call a doctor?”

He noticed his voice was shaking too, but worst of all he remembered that he’d left his phone in a locker. Surely the reception desk had a phone, and he would use that if the stranger hadn’t already called for an ambulance. But maybe it was too late already? You couldn’t survive losing that much blood unless they stitched you up quick and pumped you full of it in the next minute or so. Diego wasn’t a doctor, had an Elementary Grade understanding of the Human body, but that didn’t mean he was completely oblivious. The Brazilian didn’t know what to do save to sit by the woman’s side and try to keep her calm. Her eyes were like discs, these big black stains against the white of her eyes. She was going to die. Everyone knew it and even the hard-nosed footballer realised that it was an awful thing. Ordinarily he didn’t think much beyond his own self, didn’t really care what happened to other people as long as it didn’t affect him. Diego didn’t know this girl, maybe waved to her from time to time as he came and went just like any other client, but, now that she was lying there choking on her own blood, he felt something stirring in his chest.

He didn’t know what that feeling was – guilt for not being able to do anything; grief at seeing a young girl being taken away too soon just like his own brother; or maybe it was just discomfort. Discomfort because his trousers were damp with the slickness of her blood, discomfort because the smell was making him grimace, and discomfort because the sounds she made were excruciating – nails on a chalkboard bad. He couldn’t define the feeling that was stirring in his chest, but he knew what he wanted. Most of all Diego wanted for this scene to magic away, for her wound to heal all on its own, for the sounds to stop, for the blood to quit pouring out of her. He wanted her to feel better. He wished to exchange that nervous energy he felt thrumming through him for the gift of her wellbeing. In fact, Diego must have been wishing for it so hard that God took pity on him just this once and decided to make that wish come true – that or there was a stray Genie hanging around and had overheard the Brazilian’s thoughts.

Those were his irrational justifications and he needed them because Diego couldn’t understand what was happening even as he was experiencing it. He saw the blood cease its pumping from between their hands, and he listened to her heart beat slow into a comfortable rhythm so he had to justify it someway. Of course he knew he had talents and gifts unlike those of normal people, but he had no idea that his rapid healing abilities and an overwhelming self-preservation instinct could be passed on. No one in that boxy room could see it, but the wound on her throat had sealed shut inexplicably, and all because the Sorcerer had managed to tap into a power of regeneration he didn't know he had. He might not have recognised the way her wound sealed shut, but he immediately felt his own body sag as if the energy had be suctioned right out of him. Diego's hand peeled away from the brunette and he slumped onto his heels, breathing long, slow breaths.

[Rhett Keyes]

There was a voice from behind him and Rhett didn't need to look at it to know the guy was asking him what happened. Rhet exhaled loudly and shrugged his shoulders before he said the first thing that came to mind. "I don't really know." Rhett said truthfully, before he tried to imagine what might have happened. "Looks like a pretty good sized laceration, from what I saw as I came around the counter. I don't want to look at it again." He said with a shake of his head. If he looked at it, then that meant he would have to release some pressure from the woman's neck, and she would bleed out at a lot faster rate. What the guy behind him might have put together was how calm, Rhett appeared to be, even though there was a decent amount of blood and the woman might possibly die.

"And no. Kind of busy here. And the other guy seems to be in his own world." Rhett replied, a tone of bitterness in his words. "I've got a phone." Rhett said quickly, as the woman started gargling on her own saliva and blood. "Back pocket. Right side." Rhett said as he shifted his weight to try and apply pressure on the woman's neck at a different angle. "9013." Rhett blurted out before he went on. "The code to unlock the phone. Hurry, man." This whole time Rhett hadn't looked at Diego, until he was done talking about the only things that needed to be talked about right now. "Miss? Hang in there. I want you to try and focus on," Rhett looked around the gym quickly, with a turn of his head; angling both to the left and right side. "This guy." Rhett suddenly decided, since posters were too far away and everything else around them were basic, bland colors. "Figure if you're going to stare at something, best stare at something worth staring at." No, Rhett wasn't gay, but he wasn't so wrapped up in his heterosexual ways that he couldn't compliment some guy. Besides, if it got her focusing and staying alive, all the better.

"What the **** is taking everyone so long?" Rhett spit out suddenly as an eerie feeling started to loom over the area; one that felt...familiar, to the necromancer. It reeked of a death himself, galloping in on a tan colored American Quarter Horse, it's skeletal arms outstretched and reaching for those close to the brink of death. These thoughts reminded Rhett that he could do more than just sit here and try to stop her from dying right here on the spot in the next minute or two. Rhett stared at his hands over her neck, pressed down tighter and silently called upon the powers of his natural vampire 'born' path, and replenished what she had been losing up until this point. "Did they give an ETA? Estimated time of Arrival?" Finally, Diego got Rhett's full attention as he stared at the guy, wondering if he had made the call, and what had been said by the operator on the other side of the line.